Chapter 25: The Concealed Master

Lagren was killed by a bullet from an unknown source.

After that incident, Wolf Rat, though on high alert, racked his brains and still couldn’t figure out why that weapon shop had decided to eliminate the navigator of the Sharp Bull pirate ship, thereby triggering a series of ensuing problems.

From what he understood, there was no real connection between the two parties.

If anything, one of the victims lived near the weapon shop.

But of course, none of that mattered anymore.

Because the most important person had come knocking.

Wolf Rat watched Kazt, who prided himself on his straightforwardness, with an air of effortless calm.

His expression was as steady as an old dog, and the casual way he fiddled with his wine glass—yet subtly hinted at murderous intent—revealed a master’s demeanor.

It was as if, before him, the thirty-odd figures led by Kazt were nothing more than mere chickens and dogs.

Listening to Wolf Rat’s understated replies, feeling the turbulent force beneath his placid surface, Kazt’s eyes narrowed, his mind conjuring up all sorts of scenarios. Cautious, his fighting spirit began to stir.

For a moment, the atmosphere grew tense and deadly.

“Captain of the Sharp Bull Pirates, Kazt, is it?” Wolf Rat, seeing Kazt fall silent, felt both composed and helpless, thinking: If you don’t respond, how am I supposed to smoothly reveal the identity of the perpetrator?

“Seems like—”

Kazt’s gaze was cold as he slowly activated the power of his Devil Fruit.

The black moustache on his lips grew wildly, spreading across his cheeks and forehead like rampaging vines.

In an instant, thick black hair covered his entire face, and a pair of yellow beast-like eyes shone through the fur like lanterns in the night, burning with palpable murderous intent.

But Wolf Rat suddenly spoke rapidly: “Anything you wish to know, Captain Kazt, I’ll answer without reservation, without charging you a single coin.”

“…?”

The tone shifted abruptly; the murderous aura Kazt had been building stalled.

Ten minutes later, Kazt and his crew, armed with “complete” information, left the bar.

After they departed, Wolf Rat slowly let his smile fade, his expression turning sinister as he looked coldly toward the door. “I only offer free services to the dead.”

Tatam glanced at Wolf Rat, calmly remarking, “That was dangerous just now.”

“It wasn’t too bad. I’m not some useless riffraff, and besides, wasn’t it you who was here with me?”

“…”

Tatam wanted to say that if a fight broke out, his first thought would be to run.

Wolf Rat, unaware, continued, “With our combined strength, escape isn’t possible, but taking down most of them is barely within reach. Kazt may look like a bull, but he knows how to act with restraint—he’s not reckless like one.”

“So as long as I cooperate, with the auction about to start, I’m certain he won’t make a move.”

He turned the glass upside down, watching the last drops of wine trickle down the sides, a cold smile curling at his lips.

“As for what comes after, I just hope they don’t die too miserably.”

Tatam, ever silent, made Wolf Rat seem as though he were speaking to himself.

Wolf Rat was long used to Tatam’s way—aware that, because of his voice, he rarely spoke unless necessary.

“Tatam, tonight will be lively. Are you not the slightest bit interested?”

Wolf Rat turned the glass upright, gesturing for a refill.

Tatam shook his head, indicating his lack of interest, and promptly poured Wolf Rat another drink.

“I, on the other hand, am dying to go.”

Wolf Rat tipped his head back.

“But damn it, I don’t dare!”

…

The Sharp Bull Pirates exited the alley, heading for the Mad Hat Auction Hall on Corner Street.

One of the officers, Wells, walked alongside Kazt, speaking in a deep voice: “Information wrung out by torture is weighty; that rat cooperated too easily. Should we trust the intel he gave us?”

He was an officer on par with Lagren, but unlike Lagren, who was skilled with blades, Wells specialized in firearms.

Kazt stared ahead, indifferent. “With the auction imminent, I don’t want trouble. These messy affairs can wait until it’s over.”

“Understood.”

Wells said no more.

Their group returned to Mad Hat Town just in time.

Upon arrival, they learned Lagren had been sniped inside a tavern, and immediately realized a formidable enemy had set sights on them.

Otherwise, why kill their navigator first, then finish off Lagren, who stayed to handle the fallout?

Kazt was all for steady growth and avoiding trouble, but that didn’t mean he feared it.

The truth was, there were several items in the auction he coveted. Among them was a fishman slave—one of the keys to successfully crossing the Reverse Mountain sea current.

To compete for his desired goods, he’d used the sale of information as a bridge for cooperation, joining forces with two other equally strong pirate crews to swallow up Bolkin’s fleet and thus amass enough funds for the auction.

After so much effort, how could he let other matters derail his plans?

Moreover, tracking down Wolf Rat had already cost precious time. Any further delay might mean missing the auction altogether.

The Sharp Bull Pirates pressed on swiftly, soon arriving at the door of Mad Hat Auction Hall.

There was still about half an hour before the auction began, but most potential buyers had already entered early.

Even so, the entrance was a sea of people.

Restricted by the auction hall’s rules, Kazt brought only two officers with him.

He chose not to entrust his money to the auction’s partnered “stashing master,” but instead carried it directly inside.

The so-called stashing master could be understood as a professional custodian, serving mainly pirate clientele.

In this world, there were tens of millions of islands, many uninhabited.

These deserted isles were often used by pirates to hide treasures, fine spirits, and other valuables.

The problem, of course, was the utter lack of security: you might hide your hard-earned loot one day, only for another crew to stumble upon it and take it the next.

Under such circumstances, stashing masters emerged, offering safekeeping services for a reasonable fee—like banks for pirates.

The stashing masters partnered with the auction hall were there to safeguard buyers’ funds.

If buyers chose to entrust their auction money to a stashing master, they could bypass tedious handover procedures and collect their purchases on the spot.

If the item was a Devil Fruit…

Naturally, eating it immediately was the safest choice.

In short, buyers made their own decisions: some left their money with a stashing master, others brought their funds into the auction.

Kazt was the latter.

Inside a tavern near the Mad Hat Auction Hall—

“Stashing masters… The professions here are truly a kaleidoscope.”

Masked, Mod sat alone at a table, silently listening to the “helpful citizens” chat, gleaning much about Mad Hat Town.

His solitary table wasn’t claimed through force like Kid’s; rather, it was his undertaker’s attire.

To pirates in Mad Hat Town, an undertaker was, politely, a corpse collector; less politely, a scavenger; and crudely, a janitor.

Such an ill-omened profession ensured no pirate would share a table with Mod.

He found this quiet isolation a blessing.

He ordered food and drink but didn’t touch them; whenever a conversation mentioned a name, he would glance over swiftly, then look away without a trace.

Every pirate he “skimmed” with a glance shivered inexplicably.

Puzzled, none realized why.

Time ticked by.

Pirates occasionally rose and left, and sometimes new ones entered.

Each time the tavern door swung open, Mod would glance over unobtrusively.

Creak—

The door opened again.

A blond youth in a black top hat walked in.

He paused at the entrance, scanning the seating in the tavern, and in an instant locked onto Mod’s relatively empty spot.