Chapter Eighty: Mihawk?

"The host and organizer of the auction are probably this so-called 'Vladimir Family,' aren't they?" Although the true organizer of the auction had always remained shrouded in mystery, this was an idea that had occurred to Qiu Bai from the very beginning. And as the day of the auction finally arrived, his conviction grew stronger.

On this day, the grand estate—rivaling a royal palace—was permeated with a sense of urgency and bustling activity... What else could it be for, if not the auction? The nobility here was the undisputed authority, and a large-scale underground auction could only be orchestrated by them. Even if they weren't the hosts, at the very least, the real organizers would have needed their permission to hold such an event.

So, if they were truly interested in the Childlike Fruit, they would undoubtedly secure it for themselves. At that point, the price was irrelevant—it was simply a matter of moving something from one hand to the other within the family. The amount called out was just a number; in reality, they might not have to pay a single coin.

Allowing this fruit—and other rare items they had no intention of selling—to make a public appearance was not without purpose. At the very least, it could elevate the auction's reputation and draw in more "buyers." The Navy itself might even welcome such a spectacle, or perhaps there was some agreement between the aristocrats and the Navy; once the auction ended, the Navy could have opportunities to round up pirates stranded on the island.

Therefore... the fruit would inevitably return to their hands.

As Qiu Bai pondered this, his hands moved deftly—he tied one end of a rope to the ankle of an unconscious male steward, and the other end to a hefty stone. Before him yawned the deep well he had noticed earlier.

And then—

A splash.

Qiu Bai exhaled softly, feigning relief, and with a casual motion as if to wipe nonexistent sweat from his brow, he scanned his surroundings.

No one was around; his actions remained unnoticed.

Qiu Bai's method of hiding people was hardly sophisticated, and he was sure the family would notice this person's disappearance soon enough. But that didn't matter—he only needed a little more time, for he planned to leave tonight. After days of lurking in the estate, the time for the auction had finally arrived.

Why, when one of his guiding principles was to avoid dirtying his own hands, had he still chosen to sink someone into a well? Simply put, the other party had given him ample reasons to do so. Any further detail would be an invasion of privacy.

Having completed his task, Qiu Bai walked away as if nothing had happened.

He found the sensation of air swirling between his legs—thanks to the skirt—rather disconcerting, but there was no helping it. It wasn't as if he could wear trousers underneath; that would only draw attention to himself. Then again... tights might have worked? No, that would be even more perverse. He would simply endure the shame.

The estate was vast. Once he located a suitably hidden spot, Qiu Bai produced a Den Den Mushi from his chest, still warm from his body heat, and began contacting Ain.

This was his second time reaching out to her since arriving.

"The operation... is about to begin. Any questions on your end?"

"All good. Proceed according to plan."

"Me? Nothing's happened here... I've already confirmed the location of the vault, and judging by the comings and goings over the last couple of days, there shouldn't be any mistake. As long as the fruit arrives, I’ll know where it'll be."

"Right. We'll meet at the rendezvous point."

"Understood."

The conversation was brief and to the point, entirely lacking in idle chatter—Qiu Bai was, after all, a cautious operative these days. Even if someone had just witnessed his seemingly deranged "soliloquy," they'd probably assume they'd stumbled upon a lovesick girl's episode of emotional turmoil.

Ever more careful, Qiu Bai also refrained from uttering do-or-die phrases like "Don't leave until we meet." For now, he needed to remain hidden and await further contact from Ain.

—

Elsewhere, several hours later, Ain and Bepo were preparing to enter the auction house as representatives of the "Cat-Eyed Trio."

The so-called underground auction was not held literally below ground, but catered to the denizens of the underworld—pirates, terrorists, wanted criminals, and the like, whose presence could not bear the light of day.

In fact, the auction venue was surprisingly grand and imposing.

After a thorough check of their entry passes, Ain and Bepo were allowed in. Once they found their seats, Ain tossed her auction paddle aside; it would serve no purpose, as she was not there to buy anything.

Thus, the preliminary festivities and buildup left her unmoved—she simply rested with her eyes closed, waiting until the auction neared its end.

Her behavior was not unusual; many had come for a particular item. The event truly stirred for the first time only when Ain finally opened her eyes.

"Our next item is one that many may have heard of, but few have seen in person. Presenting... the weapon wielded by 'Hawk-Eye' Mihawk, the world's greatest swordsman—a Supreme Grade Sword, one of only twelve in existence, known as the 'strongest black blade': Yoru!"

As the blade was revealed, excitement rippled through the hall.

Yet the real cause of the stir was Mihawk's fame, not the sword itself. For non-swordsmen, the blade was little more than a trophy—an expensive ornament. It held no practical use to them.

Truth be told, many in attendance probably considered swords obsolete, some even subscribing to the philosophy of "If you draw your sword, I'll draw my gun"—asymmetric warfare.

The stir was caused simply because it was the "world's number one" weapon.

So despite the auctioneer's best efforts to hype up the blade's authenticity, its history, and Mihawk's prowess as a swordsman, the excitement was all for show. In reality, few attendees genuinely intended to bid on it.

A voice from behind Ain gave voice to what many were thinking: "Even if the sword is real, who’s to say Mihawk won’t come hunting you down if you take it?"

After all, there were few arrogant or confident enough to challenge the world's greatest swordsman. Most had the good sense to refrain; just a glare from Mihawk might be enough to make them kneel.

So it was enough to watch the spectacle—why risk your life for a deadly prize?

In the end, the black blade Yoru fetched a price that was surely disappointing to the organizers: from a starting bid of 200 million, it sold for only 280 million.

Of course, aside from a few nouveau riche, the truly wealthy among the audience were seasoned enough to know how to make their money count. They reserved their competition for the next item, which was also why the black blade failed to impress:

The Childlike Fruit.

To the true players, everyone knew that this fruit was the real treasure compared to the sword.

It was at this moment that Ain finally took action. She rolled up her wide sleeves and quietly pressed her palm, radiating a strange energy, against the floor.

As the bidding for the Childlike Fruit grew ever fiercer and the price soared, the question hung in the air: Who would ultimately claim this rare prize?

Vladimir.

When the auctioneer finally brought down the hammer and declared, "The Childlike Fruit, sold to Vladimir for 1.1 billion Berries," chaos erupted.

Almost everyone in the hall was suddenly struck by a violent sense of weightlessness—the solid foundation and floor of the auction house instantly turned to sand, and in the next moment, the entire structure collapsed.

"Who did that?"

"What’s happening? What’s going on?"

"Mihawk? Is it Mihawk?!"

"Mihawk!"

"Hawk-Eye Mihawk is here!"

There was a note of resentment in those voices, as if blaming the others: "It's all your fault for daring to auction everything!"

In the confusion and sudden darkness, panic needed no encouragement—there were even those fanning the flames. Amid the chaos, Bepo's bear-like growl rang out distinct and clear.

Some, more cunning than the rest, made a beeline for the high-value auction items they couldn't afford the moment the mayhem began.

If they couldn’t buy it, they'd steal it—that was the way of their world. No, in truth, theft always took precedence over purchase in their eyes.

They longed for chaos—and they helped to create it.