Alistair realized the true nature of the Curved Sword Pirates' captain and first mate, hidden beneath their facade of humility and deference.
They were pirates, brutal to the weak, and subservient to the strong.
Their true nature was merely suppressed by the Shichibukai's power, not reformed.
Alistair had made a bourgeois mistake again, but he quickly pulled himself together, discarding his inner arrogance and foolishness, and calmly observed everything.
He had been floating on cloud nine. Anyone would become like that with the support of the Kuja Pirates.
Then he woke up.
In the face of 'Long Arm' Wood's revealing his ferocious fangs and true nature.
His gaze became clear, no longer arrogant or haughty. He stood aside, calmly watching as Wood pointed at another man who stepped forward.
"Barabaro, don't mess around." 'Long Arm' Wood gave a warning look to the man he had chosen. He was also a thin type, but he had a gloomy expression, looking somewhat similar to 'Long Arm' Wood, seemingly like a close confidant.
Alistair made some judgments based on the information he had seen before. For example, the bread 'Long Arm' Wood had given him was better, softer, and even Captain William had given him more salted meat.
Was he an executive?
No, he should be below executive level, but above the other crew members.
Alistair made a judgment and suddenly became excited. Clearly, this was his real battle.
Actually, fighting was the main theme in the world of One Piece. He, who didn't know how to fight, would be very difficult to survive in this world.
It was precisely because he knew this that he was even more willing to hone his fighting skills.
He lightly jumped twice, his arms clenched into fists, guarding his cheeks.
This action made Marguerite's eyes light up. Even William and 'Long Arm' Wood had a look of surprise on their faces. This kid, although he was a bit thin, seemed to have something.
This was the advantage of modern people. They didn't know anything, but because they had access to so much information, they knew a little bit of everything.
If they had a little bit of action ability, free money, and free time, they could even go practice. Alistair was incredibly grateful for modern society. He had enjoyed the best resources in the entire pirate world while he was with the Celestial Dragons. But even though the Celestial Dragons had elevators and automated devices made by slaves, not to mention the inhumanity of it all, they couldn't compare to the comfort of real automated electrical equipment.
The direction was wrong, no matter how much you pushed it to the limit, it would still be the same.
In modern society, with free time and money, he had learned a lot of things.
Like how to fight beautifully, like flower-like poomsae taekwondo.
Like how to fight beautifully, destroying half your body, like Muay Thai.
He had tried both, but he only said "tried" because after two or three months, he couldn't stand the feeling of paying for pain.
Of course, he ultimately chose something more practical. Because in a certain dynamic image, a bunch of Russians were harassing a boxer's girlfriend, and he knocked them all out, one punch each, it was so cool.
But like all bourgeois people, he didn't stick with it. Training once a week couldn't improve his combat power much. But he did learn the basic stances well.
He had the theoretical stances of boxing, but he didn't have his own combat experience.
Barabaro was wearing a tank top. His body was thinner, but his muscles were as well-proportioned as Alistair's. He looked very tough.
He sneered, then charged forward.
He was angry at Alistair. Alistair had just toyed with his companion. Although the other trash didn't think it was a big deal that their companion was bullied, they even watched it as a play, but he was different.
He was a little angry, but his steps were steady, he seemed experienced.
Alistair, hidden behind his arms, carefully observed Barabaro, then his arm went numb from Barabaro's punch.
He knew Barabaro wasn't better than him, but Barabaro was more ruthless. His expression didn't change at all, he threw another punch. Alistair was afraid. Even though he was guarding himself well, his feet involuntarily moved back to dodge.
The pirates cheered and jeered. Clearly, Alistair dodging was seen as a sign of weakness. They wanted to push him to the center of the ring.
After retreating, Alistair realized he was wrong. The other man seized the opportunity of his retreat, stood still, turned his waist, and swept a leg across. He didn't bother to kick Alistair in the head, it was well protected. But the difference between a boxing stance and a Sanda stance was that the boxing stance focused more on protecting the head, while the waist was less protected.
His soft abdomen took a solid kick. Alistair fell to the ground and started to vomit acid.
"Tsk..." Barabaro sneered again. This man was truly weak. He had actually beaten Todd like that. It was completely because Todd's mental state was unbalanced. That waste.
He raised his foot to deliver a follow-up blow, but he felt like he was being stared at by a venomous snake. His hair stood on end.
He turned his head and saw Marguerite, who had been doing nothing, lighting a cigarette for herself. Her narrowed eyes stared at him through the wisps of smoke. Although she hadn't moved at all, her killing intent seemed to be constantly reminding him, "If you want to die, keep going."
The difference in strength was too great.
It was like the pressure Zoro felt when facing Mihawk. They weren't on the same level!
He wasn't the kind of person who didn't know what was good for him. He silently retracted his foot and turned to walk back into the crowd.
Alistair spat out two mouthfuls of saliva, got up from the ground, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and walked towards Marguerite with a relaxed expression.
"You're not discouraged." Marguerite crossed her arms, leaned against the railing, and watched Alistair walk over, pick up his clothes, wipe the sweat off his body and the acid off the back of his hand. He looked very relaxed, there was even a hint of a smile in his eyes, making one wonder if he was a masochist, finding pleasure in being beaten.
"What's there to be discouraged about?" He put on his clothes, his face contorted in pain, but he rubbed his abdomen with a relaxed expression. "I said from the beginning that I'm weak. There's nothing wrong with acknowledging your weakness."
"Only by facing your weakness can you become stronger, can you progress, right?" Alistair could still smile, but because of the pain, his face was contorted, making him look silly.
"Lift your shirt, let me see your injuries." Marguerite, annoyed, flicked her cigarette into the sea behind her and said to Alistair.
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