Chapter 65: Cunning and Greed
Inside the Gunpowder Tavern, Ranzo's gaze swept around, arcs of electricity surging across his body.
The moment he noticed Roger's sidearm had vanished, Ranzo realized something was wrong. Connecting the sniper infighting, the mysterious disappearance of Roger's pistol, and other events in his mind, he immediately understood he had been set up—a massive black pot hung around his neck.
Looking at the dozens of murderous eyes around him, Ranzo knew that if he couldn't extricate himself quickly, he would lose all chance at Roger's sidearm, let alone the top five pirate reputation rankings. At most, he had two to three sentences' worth of "explanation" opportunity.
In the past, Ranzo wouldn't have bothered explaining, but these lone wolves were no weaklings. If they joined forces to surround him, he might very well die here.
Realizing this, Ranzo's hatred for that sniper skyrocketed. He wished he could tear the bastard apart alive.
Stay calm!
That was the first thought that crossed Ranzo's mind.
The glow of various abilities flickered inside the Gunpowder Tavern. Clearly, the lone wolves inside were preparing to gang up on Ranzo, intending to kill him quickly to determine whether he had taken Roger's pistol.
"Wildcat, Tank, Bart, the plan failed. Get ready to pull out."
Ranzo assumed a combat stance, his back to a masked woman in a black skintight suit—the one Xiaomantou had mentioned earlier as "Mask."
"Tank" and "Bart" referred to Iron Tank and Barbatre. Iron Tank wore iron armor and specialized in shield and sword combat, while Barbatre was a burly white man in jungle fatigues.
Hearing Ranzo's words, the curvaceous Mask froze. She instinctively wanted to punch Ranzo in the back—he was clearly trying to drag her down with him.
Just as Mask was about to act, Ranzo spoke a second sentence.
"Tank, raise the shield!"
The moment Ranzo finished, Iron Tank slammed his conical shield into the ground.
Clang!
A metallic energy barrier appeared, protecting Ranzo, Mask, Iron Tank, and Barbatre inside.
Mask, who had been about to strike, stopped. She noticed Iron Tank's gaze—if she dared to attack, Ranzo and Iron Tank would definitely join forces against her. Mask couldn't be sure whether Barbatre had already allied with Ranzo and Iron Tank.
At the very least, Ranzo and Iron Tank were cooperating, as evidenced by Iron Tank's shield activation.
The lone wolves preparing to attack were clearly intimidated. If these four had truly formed an alliance, they would be a tough nut to crack.
A gaunt-faced lone wolf contractor frowned. He sensed something was off. If these four had really reached a cooperation agreement, why had they been stalling earlier? They were fully capable of withstanding everyone's attacks and successfully snatching Roger's pistol.
The gaunt lone wolf studied Ranzo and Iron Tank's expressions, finding nothing unusual. But he caught a flash of shock and anger on Mask and Barbatre's faces.
The gaunt lone wolf immediately turned and rushed out of the tavern. He was over 60% sure that Roger's pistol wasn't on Ranzo. Ranzo's words were clearly a bluff to buy a moment's reprieve from being surrounded. On closer inspection, it looked like a desperate self-preservation tactic Ranzo had cooked up on the spot—flimsy at best.
Was Ranzo afraid of them? Impossible. The madmen of the Brigade didn't even fear death, so why would they fear them? Yet the current situation showed Ranzo didn't want to fight them, or rather, it wasn't worth fighting them. Why? Could Ranzo be taking the fall for someone else?
Various thoughts flashed through the gaunt lone wolf's mind. He had climbed from First Rank to Fourth Rank alone—without some intelligence, he would have died in some derivative world long ago.
Soon, the gaunt lone wolf recalled the sniper chaos from moments ago. The sniper who fired first was very suspicious.
Now that Ranzo was surrounded and couldn't escape quickly, rather than fighting him to the death, the gaunt lone wolf preferred to verify his own theory.
If the gaunt lone wolf could think of this, wouldn't Mask, who was stronger than him, realize it too?
Mask crouched low, looking at Ranzo's back. As someone caught in the crossfire, she naturally understood the situation better than the gaunt lone wolf.
"If you dare set me up, I'll fight you to the death."
Mask muttered an ambiguous statement.
"Looks like we have someone who understands. The real culprit must be retreating toward District 21. Let's join forces to catch him."
"Fine."
Mask didn't explain to the surrounding lone wolves. She had been the second person to enter the tavern, only moments after Ranzo.
There was one thing Mask couldn't figure out. If Ranzo had really obtained Roger's pistol, why didn't he escape immediately? Coordinating with his ally Iron Tank from inside and out, even if he couldn't break out right away, it would be far better than being trapped here.
Didn't Ranzo want to rush out of the tavern? No, he couldn't do that. If Ranzo had chosen to charge out and coordinate with Iron Tank, it would be like mud in his pants—not shit, but it would look like it. Everyone would assume the pistol was on him.
So Ranzo didn't leave immediately, giving the situation some room for negotiation.
"Ranzo, hand over—"
The burly white man Barbatre began, but Ranzo cut him off.
"Barbatre!"
Ranzo shouted, a long wooden box appearing in his hand.
"Payment."
Ranzo tossed the box to Barbatre. Muscles rippled on Barbatre's shoulder, forming a twisted arm that caught the box. Though most contractors considered Barbatre reckless and muscle-brained, he had some brains—he didn't catch the box bare-handed, wary of a trap.
At this point, anything Ranzo threw out was a hot potato. But Barbatre didn't drop the box because he received a notification.
[You have received Soul Crystal (Large) ×2.]
Inside the box were two Soul Crystals (Large). No wonder Barbatre didn't drop it—he couldn't bear to.
Barbatre made a move to crush the box, letting everyone see the Soul Crystals inside. But by the time greed rose in his heart, it was too late.
If someone truly clever had received what Ranzo threw, upon confirming the box didn't contain Roger's pistol, they would have immediately dropped it to clear their name.
"Break out!"
Iron Tank roared at the top of his lungs, the sound waves spreading. Mask turned her head aside.
Ranzo, Mask, and Iron Tank charged toward the tavern's front door. Behind them, Barbatre was about to crush the box when a stealth-type contractor appeared at his back.
The stealth contractor leaped, daggers in both hands like venomous fangs, stabbing toward Barbatre's nape.
A black serpent phantom appeared behind Barbatre. He lunged forward, but it was too late.
Pfft!
Black blood sprayed. Barbatre crushed the box in his hand. Amid the splintered wood, two Soul Crystals were faintly visible.
Pfft, pfft...
Throat, armpit, side of the neck, eye socket—the stealth contractor's hands became blurs. The twin daggers traced a black bloodline in the air, forming a symbol. The clearer the symbol, the stiffer Barbatre's body became.
Whoosh~
The stealth contractor flicked his daggers, severing the black bloodline in midair. His hand shot forward, grabbing the two Soul Crystals (Large).