The lazy voice, devoid of energy, echoed across the Plaza of Justice, lingering in the air like a haze.
Everyone was stunned by Luoyu's sudden, offhand remark.
Even Kizaru wasn't spared.
They had imagined that, faced with the temptation of promotion and a pay raise, Luoyu might do anything.
Maybe he'd activate his War God Susanoo and crash the party, turning it into a three-way brawl.
After a brutal clash, the entire Marine Headquarters would lie in ruins, and a new Fleet Admiral would emerge from the rubble.
After all, this was the "bonus-in-hand, Emperor-slaying, pay-raise-obsessed Admiral."
No one doubted that Luoyu would leap at the chance.
Not Sengoku. Not Akainu.
Not even Warcury, who had orchestrated this whole setup.
From the start, Warcury had blocked Sengoku from nominating Luoyu, precisely to pit Akainu and Aokiji against each other.
By shifting the battlefield, he hoped Luoyu would be drawn in, escalating the conflict over the Fleet Admiral seat.
If it had been a three-way split from the beginning, the fight might never have started.
So Warcury had deliberately kept Luoyu out—waiting for this exact moment to spring his trap.
But then Luoyu dropped that line.
"Fleet Admiral? I wouldn't take that job even if you gave it to a dog."
The tense, battle-ready atmosphere evaporated in an instant.
Was he saying… they weren't even worth being dogs?
If they kept fighting now, wouldn't that make them the real dogs?
Everyone's expressions twitched.
Even Akainu and Aokiji, locked in combat just moments ago, felt their fury doused like a bucket of cold water.
"Luoyu, you little bastard! What the hell are you saying?" Sengoku exploded. "If that seat's not even good enough for a dog, then what are we? Chickens pecking at each other? One chicken sitting on the sidelines?"
"If you don't explain yourself right now, I'll beat the crap out of you!"
Everyone exchanged awkward glances.
If Akainu and Aokiji were still fighting over who got to be the ignored dog…
Then Sengoku had been the ignored dog for years.
If Luoyu didn't explain himself, Sengoku might really lose it.
"Admiral Luoyu… wasn't that a bit much?" Ain asked with a pained smile.
"Too much?"
Luoyu took a sip of his earthy liquor and rolled his eyes.
"You people just don't get it."
He reached into his coat and pulled out a crumpled piece of paper, tossing it to Sengoku.
"Old man Sengoku, before the war, you owed me 120 million in bonuses. After the war, you promised me 100 million for repelling Kaido, and another 100 million for killing Whitebeard. That's 320 million berries total."
"So… are you paying up now?"
"Oh, and don't forget the miscellaneous performance bonuses. We can tally those up later."
Sengoku stood frozen.
He stared at the wrinkled invoice in his hand, unable to process it.
Finally, he rubbed his nose and coughed awkwardly.
"Ahem… Luoyu, look at the state of HQ. We need funds for reconstruction. How about we delay this a bit? Once I get my pension next month, I'll pay you back with interest. You know I've already poured my whole salary into your bonuses…"
Everyone was dumbfounded.
In that moment, they finally understood why Luoyu had said the Fleet Admiral's seat wasn't even worth a dog's time.
The current Fleet Admiral couldn't even cover his own salary and pension—let alone pay Luoyu what he was owed.
To someone like Luoyu, who only worked for bonuses, this job really was beneath a dog.
Sengoku, still stunned, finally understood.
He clenched the invoice and glared at Luoyu.
"You little brat! Can't you cut me some slack after all I've paid you? With you saying that, who the hell is going to want this job?"
"Not my problem." Luoyu raised his gourd. "I'm not about to take a job where I have to work overtime for free and pay out of pocket."
"Let someone else deal with that mess. I'm just here for the money."
"If there's nothing else, I'm leaving."
With that, Luoyu turned and walked away, gourd in hand.
The position everyone else was fighting tooth and nail for—he dismissed with a single sentence.
Everyone stared, dumbstruck.
"Oh, right. Old man Sengoku, don't forget to pay me this month's salary. If I don't see it tomorrow, I'm not coming in."
Luoyu paused, then added:
"If I'd known the Navy was this broke, I wouldn't have taken the Admiral job either."
"You little bastard! I'll borrow money if I have to, but I'll pay you! If I don't see you tomorrow, I'll throw out all your booze!" Sengoku roared.
But as he watched Luoyu's retreating back, the weight in his chest finally eased.
He had feared that Warcury's last-minute gambit would push Luoyu into the fray, turning the situation into a disaster.
He never imagined that being broke would actually save the Navy from imploding.
But before Sengoku could say anything else—
Warcury, face dark as thunder, stepped forward.
In a flash, he crossed hundreds of meters and blocked Luoyu's path.
"Warcury! What are you doing?" Sengoku shouted, his face twisting.
"You've done enough today. I know exactly what you're trying to pull. But if you keep pushing, don't blame me for what happens next!"
His voice boomed like thunder.
Anyone could see—Sengoku was truly furious.
As Fleet Admiral, he had been undermined again and again. Even a saint would lose their temper.
But Warcury remained unfazed. He glanced coldly at Luoyu and said:
"Calm down, Sengoku. He's still an Admiral. He performed exceptionally in the Summit War."
"Since he's not interested in the position, fine. But surely everyone here would like to know—who would he choose as Fleet Admiral?"
"And you—are you his adjutant?" Warcury turned to Ain. "As a Marine yourself, I'd like to hear your opinion too."
The room froze.
Tsuru and Sengoku's faces changed dramatically.
No one expected Warcury to shift his focus from Luoyu to Ain.
Under the weight of every gaze, Ain's face flushed red.
For the first time in such a high-stakes setting, she stammered:
"C-could we… maybe crowdfund his salary? If so, I vote for Admiral Luoyu!"