"That guy... isn't he Saint Charlos who's been beaten up three times already..."
Ryan glanced at the group approaching and immediately recognized the Celestial Dragon leading them. With that stupid bubble helmet and needing attendants to support him while walking, he looked utterly idiotic - every part of him radiated an aura that begged for a beating.
However, Ryan had no interest in dealing with this trash who relied on his status to bully others. What caught his attention was the violent trembling suddenly coming from beside him. Hancock's clear blue eyes were filled with terror, her face deathly pale, her breathing becoming rapid and strained as if she might suffocate at any moment.
Tsk tsk tsk, this was nowhere close to the "Pirate Empress" - she looked more like a helpless young girl.
"Hmm?" Saint Charlos's gaze swept past Ryan, barely noticing this "ordinary pirate," but suddenly stopped on Hancock's face. That exquisitely beautiful face, even though fear had stripped away her usual cold arrogance, remained stunning enough to captivate anyone's attention.
Instantly, Saint Charlos became interested. He wobbled forward, stretching his neck to examine Hancock's face carefully as if appraising merchandise.
Hancock felt chilled to the bone by that blatantly greedy stare. She shrank violently against Ryan's side, her hands clutching desperately at the hem of his clothes, her cheek pressed tightly against his arm. She didn't even have the courage to look up at Saint Charlos, could only squeeze her eyes shut as her body trembled even more violently.
Ryan looked down at Hancock who had nearly curled into a ball against him, understanding that this was a deeply ingrained fear of Celestial Dragons. Even someone as worthless as Saint Charlos, whose combat ability couldn't match an ordinary soldier's, could reduce the mighty "Pirate Empress" to a helpless girl.
This wasn't about strength - it was a trauma-induced stress response that robbed her of even the courage to fight back.
"Seen enough?" Ryan's voice turned cold, his gaze fixed directly on Saint Charlos's annoying bubble helmet, his tone carrying suppressed displeasure.
Truth be told, Ryan never minded when others looked at Hancock with admiration. After all, bearing the title of "World's Most Beautiful Woman," her appearance and temperament naturally drew everyone's attention. Having such a woman by his side, it was perfectly normal for people to stare a bit longer or feel some envy.
Sometimes, watching others who could only admire Hancock's beauty from afar without even having the qualification to approach her - this sense of superiority from "what others desperately want but can't have, only I can possess" always brought Ryan some satisfaction. He even quietly enjoyed this sense of "exclusive ownership."
How to put it? It was similar to the logic of "rich people don't work to earn money, but to let others know they're rich." If you kept the finest treasures hidden away where no one could see them, you'd waste Hancock's unparalleled beauty and miss out on the pleasure of "exclusively owning something precious."
But Saint Charlos's examination was different. His eyes were full of undisguised perversion and possessiveness, as if looking at a lifeless plaything. This instantly drained Ryan's patience.
Whether it was double standards or not, Hancock was Ryan's personal "possession." Ryan could tease her, control her, even do shameful things to her - but he would never allow outsiders to stare with such disgusting eyes, let alone scheme after her.
Saint Charlos frowned at Ryan's tone but didn't take him seriously. Instead, he pointed at Hancock with the Celestial Dragons' characteristic arrogance and declared, "I have decided—you shall be my wife from now on! Come with me to Mary Geoise, and I'll grant you a life of luxury!"
The words "Mary Geoise" struck Hancock like a thunderbolt, freezing her tense body instantly before it began trembling even more violently. Her grip on Ryan's sleeve tightened, as if clutching her only lifeline, and when she looked up at him, her eyes held a trace of desperation.
No matter what, she absolutely could not go to Mary Geoise. Even if it meant remaining under Ryan's control, enduring his humiliation, or facing immediate death—she would never return to that nightmarish place.
"Saint Charlos, you mustn't!" A nearby attendant immediately stepped forward, cautiously advising, "This is Boa Hancock, one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea. Her status is special; if we act rashly—"
Bang! Before the attendant could finish, Saint Charlos suddenly drew the golden pistol at his waist and fired without hesitation. The bullet pierced through the attendant's chest, splattering blood across the corridor walls in a stark, gruesome display.
"Annoying!" Charlos blew smoke from the barrel and snapped impatiently, "When I want someone, their status means nothing."
This sudden act of violence perfectly showcased the brutality of the Celestial Dragons, making Ryan chuckle inwardly. He had never considered himself a good person, but compared to the Celestial Dragons, he felt as green as a fresh recruit.
Of course, Ryan also noticed Hancock's pleading expression. Gazing at the desperation on her stunning face, he suddenly reached out and gave her a light push, stating calmly, "If you like her, take her."
Hancock staggered from the shove, nearly falling, and looked up at Ryan in disbelief. She couldn't believe that the man who had always kept her firmly in his grasp, repeatedly calling her his "private property," would cast her aside like a discarded pawn in her moment of greatest fear and need for protection.
"Oh... you're quite sensible after all." Upon hearing Ryan's words, Saint Charlos's eyes lit up behind his bubble helmet, his earlier anger at being challenged mostly dissipating. He waved a hand magnanimously and said, "Never mind, never mind. Since you're so understanding, I'll forgive your earlier rudeness."
With that, he didn't spare Ryan another glance, his gaze fixed intently on Hancock as he reached out to grab her. "Come here, beauty. Return to Mary Geoise with me, and I'll ensure you enjoy endless wealth and luxury!"
As that gem-ringed hand drew closer, Hancock's pupils contracted sharply. Nightmares of her childhood imprisonment by the Celestial Dragons surged back—the cold chains, the searing branding iron, the indelible "Hoof of the Flying Dragon" scar on her back...
"No... absolutely not!" Hancock screamed inwardly, biting her lower lip until it bled. At the moment she had nowhere left to retreat, a desperate, all-or-nothing resolve ignited in her deep blue eyes.
"I'd rather die here than return to that nightmare of being a slave!"
Just as Saint Charlos's fingers were about to touch Hancock, a cold silver light flashed abruptly. With a "swish" too faint to be clearly heard, the blade sliced through the air. In the next instant, a splash of warm blood splattered across Hancock's exquisitely beautiful face, carrying a pungent, metallic scent.
"I was just saying it, but you really took me at my word!"
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