Ron walked up to him, looking up at the "worlds strongest creature".
"Seriously injured," Ron assessed, his tone like someone examining a broken luxury car. "Residual rules, ordinary medicine won't work."
Kaido raised his huge, bloodshot dragon eyes. "Ugororororo… Kid, do you think I need your pity?"
"Not pity," Ron corrected. "It's a transaction."
He pulled out another silver box, one size larger than the one he gave Yamato: "'Rule Neutralizer,' a system experimental product. It can temporarily suppress the rule erosion on your wounds, allowing you to regain some self-healing ability. But it only lasts for 48 hours—after that, you either find a real cure, or your injuries rebound, or even worsen."
Kaido stared at the box, hot breath snorting from his dragon nose. "The price?"
"Two conditions." Ron held up two fingers. "First, within the next three years, the Beasts Pirates shall not actively attack areas covered by my system—including, but not limited to, islands where TikTok, honor of kings, or Tomato Novel are installed."
Kaido narrowed his eyes. "You're restricting my freedom?"
"No," Ron shook his head. "I'm protecting my 'users.' After all, if you go on a rampage on an island, and the residents of that island happen to be my paying members… it would affect user experience."
An absurd reason.
But Kaido understood the deeper meaning: this man was using "commercial rules" to define spheres of influence. Not pirate territory, not Marine jurisdiction, but "system-covered areas"—a new, invisible domain.
"What about the second?" Kaido asked.
Ron smiled. "Second, I want you to register an account in honor of kings, with the ID 'Strongest Creature Kaido,' and play at least three ranked matches online each week—and you have to livestream it."
Kaido's dragon whiskers shot up. "You want me… to play games?!"
"To be precise, it's 'endorsement'." Ron patiently explained, "Four Emperors Kaido addicted to honor of kings—you can imagine how much traffic that gimmick will bring. In return, I'll give you 'all heroes, all skins' privilege, plus a fixed percentage of livestream tips monthly."
He watched Kaido's face darken and added, "Of course, you can refuse. But without the neutralizer, the rule erosion in your chest will spread to your heart within 12 hours. By then…"
Ron didn't finish.
Kaido was silent. Under the Moonlight, his wound gushed blood, and black energy wriggled like a living thing. After a long time, he let out a sigh that was almost a roar from deep in his throat:
"Hand over the box."
Ron tossed the silver box over. Kaido caught it with his dragon claw, roughly tearing open the packaging. Inside was a syringe, its needle as thick as a nail.
Without a glance, he plunged the needle directly into the edge of the wound on his chest and pushed the plunger.
The moment the silver liquid injected, the black energy let out a sharp hiss, shrinking back like a scalded snake. The dragon scales at the edge of the wound began to regenerate at a visible rate; though slow, it was indeed healing.
Kaido let out a long breath, tinged with the smell of blood.
"The account," he growled, "how do I register?"
Ron handed over a specially made phone—much larger than a regular phone, with a sturdier screen, clearly designed for Kaido's size and strength.
"It's pre-installed, the tutorial is inside. By the way," Ron turned to leave, waving his hand at Kaido's back, "I've already arranged your first opponent—ID 'Red Hair,' rank Grandmaster 23 stars. Good luck."
Kaido stared at the pulsating game icon on the phone screen, a complex emotion flashing in his dragon eyes.
Anger.
Humiliation.
And a hint of… indescribable curiosity.
The Red Hair Pirates were cleaning up the aftermath.
Beckman directed the crew to move the injured, Yasopp checked the damage to the Red Force, and Lucky Roux was cooking a pot of hot soup—despite the crude environment, his chef's instinct kept him busy.
Shanks stood at the bow, watching the Marine fleet gradually receding on the distant sea. gryphon hung at his waist, the hilt still stained with Satan Saint's black blood.
Footsteps approached.
Shanks didn't turn around. "Ron."
"Captain Shanks." Ron walked up beside him, also looking out at the sea. "How are your injuries?"
"I'm fine." Shanks pressed his left arm—the arm he lost saving Luffy years ago. A faint sting now came from the severed limb, not physical, but a deeper, rule-level resonance.
"Satan Saint's rule-based injury will leave an 'imprint'," Ron said softly. "You severed his immortality, and his rules also inversely eroded your sword—or rather, your 'Reality-Defining' power. This erosion is harmless in the short term, but in the long term, it might affect your precision in controlling Haki."
Shanks finally turned to look at Ron. Under the Moonlight, the Four Emperors' eyes were sharp as blades. "You know a lot."
"The system has a database." Ron didn't avoid his gaze. "About the national treasure, about Rule Grafting, about Imu… though incomplete, it's enough to piece together a rough outline."
He paused. "Do you want to know?"
"What's the price?" Shanks asked.
"No price." Ron shook his head. "This information should not be monopolized. But I will send it to you as an 'encrypted file'—only you can open it, and if you attempt to copy or spread it, the file will automatically self-destruct."
He took a silver chip the size of a fingernail from his pocket. "Insert it into your Den Den Mushi, or any device that can read data."
Shanks took the chip, toying with it between his fingers. The chip gleamed coldly in the Moonlight, inscribed with intricate patterns—not any known script.
"Why?" Shanks asked. "Why do all this? Negotiating with the Gorosei, saving Uta, helping Kaido… even giving me this intelligence. What is your purpose?"
Ron was silent for a moment.
The sea breeze blew, carrying the smell of burning wood from afar.
"Captain Shanks," Ron finally spoke, his voice very soft, "have you ever seen 'emptiness'?"
Shanks frowned.
"Not loneliness, not boredom, but true 'emptiness'," Ron looked up at the starry sky. "A world, eight hundred years, with only one voice, one order, one 'correctness.' Everyone lives on a predetermined track—pirates chase treasure, Marines uphold justice, Celestial Dragons enjoy privileges, the Gorosei maintain balance… It seems lively, but in reality, it's dead silent."
He turned his head to look at Shanks:
"Don't you think such a world… is very boring?"
Shanks was stunned.
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