https://novelcool.info/chapter/Chapter-1037-The-Path-Is-Forged-by-Those-Who-Walk-It/13540768/
Chapter 1036
Chapter 1036
William shot Sverre a glare. In a single combat scenario, what was all that talking for? There had been so many perfect opportunities—if they’d acted instead of arguing, they could’ve eliminated one opponent already.
But now, seeing Zoro and Sanji standing like guardian statues in front of the others, he knew the plan for affirmation had fallen apart.
These two were also Distinguished Daimyo.
“Pirate Hunter” Roronoa Zoro and “Black Leg” Vinsmoke Sanji—both renowned figures who demanded attention.
Montblanc was still locked in combat with Jinbei. In William’s assessment, Montblanc wouldn’t last long against the blue-skinned pirate. In fact, the strength of this rotund pirate suggested he might rival the top spots in this entire pirate crew.
As for why there was even a “second” ranking…
William glanced at Luffy. The young man might talk a big game, but his combat strength was undeniably immense. According to William’s Observation Haki, there was something strange hidden within his body—a latent power that felt genuinely dangerous.
Just dangerous, though.
He had absolute confidence in his Observation Haki readings!
Back when he handled Crocodile, that same sense of danger had warned him Crocodile could threaten him. As for how Luffy had defeated Crocodile and cost him his Seven Warlords of the Sea position, William didn’t fully understand. Maybe it was just dumb luck.
Now that William had escaped the shadows of his past, he’d begun shedding his former caution. Two words summed up his new mindset: arrogance—and growing.
He’d even started believing in “luck” more and more.
This aligned perfectly with his undefeated record. Every pirate he’d encountered had fallen before him, boosting his confidence further. His Observation Haki had never failed him.
Luffy’s victory over Crocodile was probably luck. And his own earlier confinement to the East Blue, forced into inaction by fear? Also just bad luck. If he’d perceived things sooner, he’d have sailed freely or taken control of the East Blue long ago.
All thanks to luck—but at least it wasn’t too late now.
“Continue,” William said slowly.
…
Several days later, in the Faya Principality of Astartes.
After resolving Shanks’ arrival and Dracule Mihawk’s sudden challenge, Kuro finally had some free time.
Once Shanks left, Dracule Mihawk stayed briefly before departing too.
Kuro had originally planned to leave immediately, but he suddenly remembered he still had a mission incomplete.
He hadn’t come here just to brawl with Dracule Mihawk. His real purpose was to bring the Faya Principality into the World Government’s fold.
As a Navy officer—specifically a rugged, free-spirited, and wealthy one—Kuro had someone rent a grand theater building in the city of Amudan as a temporary office.
The theater was lavishly built, and Kuro paid a fortune to secure it, outfitting it with rest quarters and stationing Navy personnel inside.
World Government would reimburse the expenses anyway. Who cared? It was their money.
The theater had nine floors. The top floor had served as the director’s private rest area and office, but now Kuro had claimed it as his own living quarters.
“Is their so-called king still not here? I thought I told you to send him news ages ago. What’s going on?”
Kuro lounged in a luxurious sofa chair, idly flipping through a newspaper as he questioned Klah, who stood on standby nearby.
He’d been resting peacefully when Klah interrupted to say the Faya Principality’s king had stopped responding to their requests for support.
Klah adjusted his glasses. “Yes, Mr. Kuro. We contacted them immediately. They said they’d come and had even set off, but when I tried calling their direct line just now, there was no answer.”
“That’s damn strange. This guy’s got nerve—he was the one begging to join the World Government as a member state. Now he’s vanished, and even his calls go unanswered? What, am I not important enough?” Kuro muttered, puzzled.
“I’ll confirm again,” Klah said.
Kuro waved a hand. “Forget it. Let’s wait a bit longer. What about Faritear Joshua? What’s he been up to these days?”
“The usual,” Klah replied. “He’s been giving speeches in the streets and alleys, issuing proclamations urging all kings to abandon their feuds and unite under Astartes.”
Faritear Joshua—truly an extraordinary man. So extraordinary, in fact, that Kuro had grown deeply curious about him.
According to Kuro’s Observation Haki readings, Joshua’s strength wasn’t just “adequate”—it was at a farming step level, rivaling even the Seven Warlords of the Sea. While Observation Haki could only detect life auras, and true combat power required actual battle, Kuro’s experience told him his assessment was rarely off by more than a tenth.
With such strength, and with Shanks withdrawn and Marshall D. Teach absent, Joshua could easily stage a rebellion right now while Kuro was stationed here.
Yet instead, Joshua had become a revered figure in the city of Amudan. The local mayor practically sought his approval for every decision—even though Joshua himself was a homeless vagabond.
Yes, a damn homeless man. No house of his own. He slept wherever—tavern floors, city streets, sometimes just spreading an old newspaper beneath him.
Locals had grown so accustomed to his presence that when he ran out of newspapers, they’d even started donating their own. Truly bizarre.
Curious, Kuro once asked, “If you respect him so much, why don’t you improve his living conditions?”
The answer? Joshua refused every offer.
Nobles offered him mansions, but he declined, claiming they weren’t his to take. When citizens settled for renting him rooms, he turned them down too, insisting they weren’t truly his.
Joshua lived entirely off his own efforts—surviving by scavenging trash in the city. Eventually, the people gave up and stopped pushing him.
Despite his harsh survival, Joshua remained altruistic, resolving disputes between neighbors and citizens alike. In this entire city, his word was final on any issue.
Kuro didn’t know if Joshua was Astartes’ “emperor,” but if someone called him the emperor of Amudan, Kuro would believe it.
He hadn’t seized power through strength or manipulation. No—this man earned respect through sheer character alone.
“Waaaahhhhhh!!”
Suddenly, wails erupted outside. It wasn’t just one person—it sounded like the entire street was crying.
Kuro raised an eyebrow, stood, and looked out the window. A crowd had gathered, clutching a newspaper freshly scattered by a news bird, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Your Majesty! Your Majesty!!”
Some wept as they shouted.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
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