This time, he stopped holding back.
Sham's entire body turned into a gray whirlwind, circling Ronan in frantic leaps and twists.
The cat claws blurred into an airtight web of blades, slashing from above, below, left, and right—every angle vicious and lethal—as he unleashed a storm-like assault!
"Die! Die! Die!"
Sham roared, every strike aimed straight at a vital point.
"Just die already!!"
Yet at the center of that violent tempest, Ronan moved as if strolling through a garden.
His feet traced the footwork of Xingyi Quan, his body swaying like a willow in the wind.
A slight turn of the torso.
A lowered head.
A gliding step.
A subtle rotation.
Every dodge was precise—no excess, no waste.
It was an elegance so perfect it inspired despair.
No matter how ferocious or devious Sham's attacks became, Ronan always seemed to know in advance, shifting his body away before the claws ever fell.
He even had the leisure to observe his surroundings.
The light reflecting off the rock walls.
The shadow of a seagull skimming the sea in the distance.
Even the beads of sweat sliding down Sham's face—
All of it was vividly clear within his perception.
Ten minutes passed.
The relentless high-speed bursts left Sham gasping for air, his body soaked through with cold sweat.
He finally stopped, hands braced on his knees, staring at the man whose clothes hadn't even been ruffled. For the first time, fear surfaced in his eyes.
"Bastard…"
Sham's voice trembled.
"All you do is dodge?! Why won't you fight back?! Are you humiliating me?!"
He had realized it at last.
The man before him was toying with him.
That gaze—one that saw straight through everything—made him feel like a clown dancing in the palm of a giant's hand.
Ronan slowly exhaled, savoring the warm current flowing through his body under the triple cultivation multiplier.
The microscopic tearing and rebuilding of muscle fibers, the sharpening of neural reactions—he was completely intoxicated by the sensation.
Hearing Sham's accusation, Ronan put on an innocent expression and spread his hands.
"I'd love to counterattack," he said helplessly.
"But your speed is just too fast. I'm already doing my best just to dodge—I really don't have the spare capacity to strike back."
"You—!!"
Sham's face instantly turned as black as a pot bottom.
"Damn it! You think I'd believe that kind of bullshit?! You're clearly completely at ease!"
The humiliation of being treated like an idiot finally shattered what little reason he had left.
With a shrill scream, eyes bloodshot, Sham lunged forward again without hesitation!
"I refuse to believe I can't catch you!!"
At the top of the slope—
Watching this, Luffy scratched his head, completely puzzled.
"Why isn't Ronan hitting back yet?"
"One punch would send that cat guy flying."
Zoro crossed his arms, eyes deep and serious, a hint of admiration in his voice.
"Luffy, can't you tell? Ronan isn't not attacking—he's training."
"Training?" Luffy blinked.
"Yeah."
Zoro nodded toward the battlefield.
"Look at his eyes. He's already seen through every single one of that guy's attack patterns."
"He's using the enemy's attacks to hone that technique he called 'Observation Haki.'"
Zoro's fingers tapped lightly against his sword hilt, a fire igniting in his eyes.
"He's forcing himself into danger, using his body to memorize that sensory state. That kind of nerve… he's a madman."
Luffy's eyes widened in realization, then began to shine.
"So you're saying Ronan is practicing Observation Haki using that guy?!"
Zoro nodded heavily.
"Yeah. And we need to learn it from him as soon as possible."
"On this sea, the ability to predict attacks is decisive in battle."
"If I master it…"
Zoro's gaze sharpened.
"My swordsmanship will reach an entirely new level."
Down on the battlefield, Ronan was unaware of his companions' discussion.
All of his focus was immersed in the changes on the system panel.
With every near-miss, with every brush against death, he could clearly feel the shackles on his body loosening bit by bit.
Then, after narrowly dodging yet another fatal strike from Sham, a pleasant notification chimed in his mind:
[Ding! Under Combat Mode, host's Speed attribute has increased!]
[Speed: 12 → 13]
At the same time, the number in his skill panel jumped:
[Observation Haki: Beginner (10/100)]
"Hah…"
Ronan felt a surge of delight.
His Speed stat had finally broken through to 13!
And Observation Haki had gained three full points of proficiency in just over ten minutes—equivalent to hours of normal training.
However, as time went on, Ronan began to notice something else.
That familiar "heat" started to fade.
No matter how frantically Sham attacked, the sense of danger grew weaker and weaker.
His body had fully adapted to this level of assault, like a game stage that had been cleared too many times—no longer stimulating.
The Observation Haki progress bar stalled at 10/100, creeping forward at a snail's pace.
"So that's how it is…"
Ronan sighed inwardly, glancing at Sham—now wheezing, foaming at the mouth, his movements completely distorted.
"This sparring partner has been squeezed dry. Further training will probably require time… or stronger opponents."
With that thought, the playful glint in Ronan's eyes vanished, replaced by a cold, razor-sharp edge.
The battle on the slope had fallen into a strange stalemate due to Ronan's machine-like evasions.
Sham stood there, hands on his knees, gulping air.
Sweat dripped from his sharp, rat-like chin onto gravel slick with oil and blood.
The cunning and murderous intent in his eyes had been replaced entirely by exhaustion and fear.
No matter how much he increased his speed, no matter how tricky the angle of his claws—
That man always moved first.
Just one small step.
But that step made all the difference.
The helplessness of striking nothing but air was more crushing than being beaten outright.
Ronan picked up his spear again, the tip angled toward the ground, his breathing still terrifyingly steady.
He looked at Sham and frowned slightly, his tone carrying a hint of dissatisfaction.
"What? Giving up already?"
"My warm-up's only just finished."
That casually condescending remark hit Sham like a slap to the face—but he no longer had the strength to retort.
"Useless trash!!"
A furious shout suddenly echoed from the bottom of the slope.
Jango, who had been watching all this time, finally couldn't hold back anymore.
He shoved up his heart-shaped glasses, a strange metal ring appearing in his hand.
Turning to the one Cat Brother who still hadn't made a move—the bulky Buchi—he barked:
"Buchi! Stop standing around watching! If we don't take this brat down, Captain Kuro will skin us alive!"
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