Gazing at that conspicuously marked, mysterious country on the map, countless thoughts surged through Darren's mind in an instant.
The timeline he had crossed into was rather vague. Even with his deep knowledge of the original storyline, he couldn't quite grasp the current situation within Wano.
But one thing was certain: the fact that Kaido had captured him and taken him to some unknown island instead of Wano was proof enough that Kaido's influence hadn't yet extended there.
"So... I wonder if that so-called 'invincible' Kozuki Oden has already set out to sea..."
The image of a samurai surfaced in Darren's mind, and a sneer tugged at the corner of his lips.
He didn't harbor any fond feelings for the Kozuki family from the original story.
Oden's father, Kozuki Sukiyaki, was weak and foolish, his throne usurped through the cunning schemes of Kurozumi Orochi.
After escaping from prison, he dared neither resist nor take his own life—merely watched as Wano fell into Orochi and Kaido's hands, plunging the nation into blood and suffering.
They called it enduring for twenty years, but truthfully, it was cowardice and fear of death.
If he truly had the loyalty and honor of a samurai, then even if it meant standing alone against the tide, he should have shed his blood on the streets—or at the very least, taken his life with pride. That would have preserved the dignity of a shogun.
As a youth, he was wild and lawless—arson, gambling, womanizing. He kidnapped women in his own country to build a harem, inciting public outrage.
As an adult, he abandoned his nation and family in pursuit of so-called freedom and dreams, turning his back on the very land that raised him.
A muscle-bound fool, so naïve he bordered on idiocy. Despite possessing overwhelming strength and being backed by the Whitebeard Pirates and the Roger Pirates—an all-star lineup of legends—he allowed himself to be easily manipulated, humiliating himself by dancing naked at the city gates.
No plans. No contingencies. Just a reckless gamble with his Nine Red Scabbards—only to lose everything.
As for Kozuki Momonosuke, he was pure deadweight.
Crumbled at the first sign of resistance, arrogant when things went his way—lustful and incompetent. Throughout Wano's storyline, he contributed nothing, yet inherited the title of Shogun through his father's legacy and a puff of floating flame.
And in the end, he even rewrote history to paint himself as Wano's "savior."
Three generations of the Kozuki line—impossible to feel anything but disdain.
To think Wano's people had these three as their rulers... what misfortune.
Darren shook his head.
But just as he was deep in thought, a conversation from a corner table in the tavern caught his attention.
"Damn, I'm so jealous. Never thought the Hall brothers would get their hands on such a high-grade prize first."
"With that kind of quality, she could fetch a fortune."
At a table in the tavern's corner, a few middle-aged men dressed like pirates were drinking with a swagger.
Their fingers were adorned with gaudy gem-studded rings, expensive cigars clenched between their teeth, and they carried the air of nouveau riche thugs.
"But seriously, that woman was unbelievably stupid. Actually believed whatever crap the Hall brothers fed her. Hahaha! Send her to Wano? How naïve. Even Marine warships don't dare enter Wano's waters..."
"So what's the deal with that country? There's no word about it outside..."
"Who knows? All I know is, you don't mess with them. I heard the Dark Emperor once sent a whole ship of men to investigate—over a hundred crew members—and the entire vessel vanished without a trace. The Dark Emperor didn't even dare say a word afterward."
"Damn... But that woman... she's clearly dressed in Wano-style garb..."
"Well, the Hall brothers sure as hell won't take her to Wano. They probably snatched her up on some nearby deserted island, locked her away, and plan to sell her to traffickers for a fat profit..."
"No doubt. I've never seen a woman that beautiful before, especially with that naturally pale green hair... damn..."
"Yeah, yeah, and that flawless, porcelain-like face... hehehe..."
The men couldn't help but indulge their filthy fantasies, their faces twisting into lecherous grins.
Suddenly, a bottle of high-proof whiskey slammed onto their table with a loud bang.
"Gentlemen, may I ask—where exactly did you say that woman was taken?"
Startled, the men instinctively looked up along the arm gripping the bottle.
What they saw was the defiant, striking face of a young man.
A black-haired youth in a white shirt was smiling at them with cheerful ease.
"Allow me to buy you a drink. Let's be friends."
For a moment, the men fell silent.
Then burst out laughing.
"Friends!? Hahahahahahaha!!"
They howled with laughter, as if they'd just heard the most ridiculous joke, their shoulders shaking.
"Drinks!? Who the hell do you think you are!?"
One bald man suddenly sneered, sprang to his feet, and without warning drew a dagger from his belt, slashing viciously toward Darren's throat.
The sharp blade struck Darren's skin, but it was like hitting steel—sparks flew.
With a crack, the dagger snapped in half.
The bald man's words were cut short, his twisted grin frozen on his face.
All around the tavern, the onlookers gasped in unison.
Some even rubbed their eyes in disbelief.
A dagger breaking... from striking human skin!?
The bald man and his companions turned ghostly pale, staring at Darren in shock.
Darren let out a weary sigh.
"If you won't be my friend... then you'll have to be my enemies, won't you?"
The moment he finished speaking, the group saw only a blur—and then their bodies were sent flying with a thunderous crash.
The sound of shattering ribs echoed through the room. Save for the bald man, all his companions lay sprawled on the ground, vomiting blood, motionless.
The tavern fell into a deathly silence.
Everyone stood frozen, too afraid to move.
"P-Please don't kill me... I'll tell you everything... just don't kill me..."
With a thud, the bald man fell to his knees, trembling uncontrollably.
Darren casually took a seat at the table, leisurely unscrewed the whiskey bottle, and smiled at the ashen-faced man.
"Now... do you feel like sharing a drink?"
The bald man blinked, then nodded frantically like a chicken pecking grain. He crawled forward on his knees, snatched the bottle from Darren's hand, and chugged it down.
His pale face quickly flushed red, amber liquor dripping from his nostrils, tears welling in his eyes.
But still, he kept drinking—afraid to stop.