Chapter 1089: Not Boxing, But Judo
Chapter 1089: Not Boxing, But Judo
This stuff could actually be promoted? Let’s not get too fantastical here.
After much persuasion, Kuro finally convinced Fen Ni to halt the experiment. While he recalled that a similar substance had once been used as a stimulant during wartime back in his previous life, this was a completely different context. Kuro still retained a basic conscience—he’d never recklessly deploy such a thing. Though given this world’s self-discipline and idealistic healthcare capabilities, it might even cure some ailments. Still, better not let it surface unnecessarily.
Once Fen Ni was dealt with, Kuro eyed the table stacked with Gold. “Run checks on all this. Follow the trail. Ignore the minor stuff, but send warnings to those who’ve gone too far. Flag them for close monitoring. If they don’t listen, take them down immediately. And don’t forget—anyone extorting the people brutally? Cut them down without hesitation.”
The Navy’s rampant corruption was no secret. Upper ranks were somewhat better off, with decent pay and legitimate taxation perks. But mid-to-lower ranks often resorted to shady operations for wealth—hardly unique to this world.
Discipline within the Navy was practically nonexistent… but there were lines not to cross. Like that Mouse Commander in East Blue who colluded with pirates—those cases needed handling. Perfect timing for a thorough cleansing.
The delay wasn’t tenable anymore.
During his two-day stay here, Kuro had received urgent news: Gramps had officially retired after his birthday ceremony. The appointed new Admiral? None other than Kuro himself.
Promotion from Vice Admiral to Admiral!
“Mr. Kuro, time’s almost up,” Klah adjusted his glasses, calculating. “Why the rush? Can’t I catch my breath first? This requires preparation! It needs buildup! Don’t just consider my physical stamina—think about my mental state too!”
“You’re not a woman, are you? Who ‘builds up’ for this? Everyone else would be thrilled!”
“Mr. Kuro! Mr. Kuro!”
The door burst open. Kas and Wilbur staggered in, panting, each clutching a gift box, faces beaming.
“You two arrived? When?” Kuro sighed, already feeling a headache.
He’d summoned them himself, but their presence always drained him. Kas had always been a pain, and Wilbur, after prolonged exposure, seemed to share his erratic mentality—evident in his current expression. This “Kas-ification” trend worried Kuro. The bearded man exuded a contaminating aura—anyone who spent too much time near him inevitably mirrored his vibe.
“We came straight here without delay!” Kas stepped forward, trembling with excitement. “Mr. Kuro, you’ve finally become Admiral! This is incredible! Your long-cherished wish is finally fulfilled! It’s just… just…”
He burst into tears, his sobs suspiciously theatrical—like crocodile tears.
“What’re you crying for? You don’t even know what my long-cherished wish is. Calm down!” Kuro gritted his teeth.
“Indeed, Kas—don’t exaggerate. This isn’t Mr. Kuro’s long-cherished wish,” Wilbur interjected sharply.
Kas halted mid-sob, locking eyes with Kuro. A solemn nod followed. “Right. This is still far from Mr. Kuro’s true wish. We’ll keep striving! One day, we’ll achieve it!”
“Hmph. Glad you understand,” Kuro smirked. At least they acknowledged how distant this promotion was from his true goal: retiring peacefully in East Blue. Now that he’d become Admiral, peaceful retirement seemed even harder. Gramps had held this post for over a decade—how long before Kuro could finally step down? Maybe he should start considering a successor.
Scanning the room, he mused: A few years in this role would suffice if a suitable candidate emerged. The younger generation had potential.
“Why’re you staring? Want a bite? It’s real gold!” Lida chomped on a gold piece, then offered it to Kuro.
“This isn’t food!” Kuro rolled his White Eye.
Lida—no. He didn’t want her burdened here, nor did she fit the role. Klah? Useful for now, but a backup. Moer? Lazy like Kuzan, but reliable when needed. Sazil? Lacking strength, but showing responsibility lately. If he mastered his Punch-Punch Devil Fruit, he might rival Pacifist-level power—Admiral material.
Fen Ni? No female Admiral precedents in Navy history. She’d only studied Judo under Ju Geng—irrelevant.
Kas? His Speed-Speed Fruit had potential, though limited. Wilbur? Undeveloped Devil Fruit abilities—wait-and-see. Ju Geng? Hard of hearing, communication issues—out.
Thus, Klah and Kas seemed top backups. Once he became Admiral, he’d start grooming successors. Strength was key.
If promoted to Fleet Admiral instead of mere Admiral, he’d even consider rehiring Kuzan—the safest bet. But Kuzan was still lost, wandering with Marshall D. Teach, only occasionally sending intelligence.
“What’s in your boxes?” Kuro redirected.
“Gifts!” Kas flung his open. “Mr. Kuro, we’ve prepared Gold for you!”
Wilbur revealed his too—small, delicate Gold accessories. Compared to the mountainous pile on the table, theirs were modest, yet Kuro appreciated the gesture.
He knew their nature—too upright. They spent their earnings aiding the poor, unlike Moer’s performative “kindness.” Yet they still remembered their superior.
“Mr. Kuro, this is just a small token. There’s a grander one coming later!” Wilbur beamed.
“No need, no need. Your heart’s what matters. You’re my subordinates—don’t splurge on me.” Kuro waved a hand, chuckling.
(End of Chapter)
Chapter end
Report
