The heartbeats and breathing of these people were completely different from the expressions on their faces.
More importantly, as a Head Chef, he only smelled the food once to determine its quality—poorly made, and some ingredients weren't even fresh.
For a town known for its hospitality, this was too abnormal.
"What's wrong, Head Chef?"
Rocks asked in a low voice, "Are the dishes here not to your liking?"
Ryne shook his head and replied in an equally low voice, "The meat is gamey, the wine is inferior, the smiles are fake, and the killing intent is real."
Rocks' smile deepened.
He had felt something was off earlier, and Ryne's words confirmed his suspicions.
He truly was the Head Chef he valued; not only was his culinary skill divine, but his perception was also incredibly keen.
"Interesting."
Rocks raised his wine glass, toasted the Mayor from afar, then drained it, laughing heartily, "Then let's play along with them."
The banquet was held in the town square.
Gatz was already half-drunk, with his arm around a townsperson's shoulder, bragging about how they hunted Bluefin Tuna and how Rocks stunned sea beasts with a single punch.
The townsperson laughed and agreed while subtly trying to extract information, a greedy glint in his eyes.
Ryne found a corner to sit in, observing with a cold eye.
He saw the so-called Mayor subtly signal to the people around him.
As night deepened, the atmosphere of the banquet grew more lively, but the hidden killing intent also grew stronger.
Finally, at the stroke of midnight, the dagger was revealed.
"Attack!"
At the Mayor's command, the smiles on all the townspeople's faces instantly vanished, replaced by ferocious killing intent.
They drew swords and knives from their clothes and rushed at the Rocks Pirates from all directions.
"What?!"
The drunken Gatz hadn't even reacted when a long blade was already slashing towards his face.
"Clang!"
With a crisp sound, a long spear precisely parried the blade.
It was Silvers.
He had remained vigilant the entire time; now, his eyes were cold, and with a flick of his spear, he ran the attacker through.
"Bastards! You dare to play dirty!"
Gatz instantly sobered up halfway, roared, and grabbed a nearby table to smash it over.
Dolum also reacted, drawing the axe and hammer from his waist and engaging the enemies in battle.
These so-called townspeople were members of the Mosk Guild, a group of bounty hunters who would stop at nothing for a bounty.
They had thought dealing with a new pirate crew would be easy, but they hadn't expected the opponent's strength to be far beyond imagination.
Rocks stood still, not even moving. He just coldly stared at the leading Mayor, who was also the Mosk Guild executive, Lycra.
"Is this all you've got? What a disappointing welcome ceremony."
Rocks' voice was full of disdain.
Lycra's face changed drastically. He hadn't expected the other party to be prepared so early, and those crew members were all exceptionally skilled.
He gritted his teeth, pulled two short-barreled pistols from his curly hair, and aimed at what appeared to be the least threatening target in the crowd.
That eight-year-old child!
"Die, brat!"
Lycra pulled the trigger.
He believed that by taking the child hostage, he could turn the tide of the battle.
The bullet whizzed out, heading straight for Ryne's forehead.
However, Ryne's face remained expressionless.
Just a second before the bullet was about to hit him, his body shifted slightly to the side.
The bullet grazed his hair and hit the cactus behind him.
An unbelievably fast dodge!
Lycra's pupils contracted, and before he could even be shocked, he saw the child move.
Instead of retreating, Ryne took a step forward, casually grabbing a... frying pan from a nearby dining table.
Yes, a black, iron frying pan used for frying eggs.
Before Lycra could fire a second shot, he felt a blur before his eyes and a strong gust of wind hit him.
Bang!
A dull but loud metallic thud.
Ryne's small figure leaped high, and the frying pan in his hand struck Lycra's face with an extremely tricky angle.
The immense force made stars swim before Lycra's eyes, blood gushed from his nose, and two front teeth flew out.
He fell backward like a log, his pistols dropping to the ground.
One hit, instant kill.
The entire scene instantly fell silent for a moment.
Whether it was the fighting Mosk Guild members or Gatz and the others, they all stared in disbelief at the eight-year-old child, holding a frying pan, slowly landing.
Gatz rubbed his eyes hard, unable to believe what he saw.
The Head Chef who quietly cooked in the kitchen every day... was actually so fierce in a fight?
And his weapon was a frying pan?
Ryne shook his slightly numb wrist, glanced at the unconscious Lycra on the ground, then looked at the frying pan in his hand, seemingly quite satisfied with the feel of this weapon.
"Alright, the flies are dealt with."
Rocks' voice broke the silence. He took a step forward, and a terrifying aura erupted from him, instantly enveloping the entire square.
"Now, it's your turn."
He showed a devilish smile to the remaining bounty hunters.
A one-sided slaughter began.
Rocks' intervention completely removed any suspense from the battle.
He was like a tiger charging into a flock of sheep; each punch carried an overbearing power that crushed everything.
Those bounty hunters, who were considered vicious in the eyes of ordinary people, were as fragile as paper in front of him, screaming and falling one after another.
Gatz, Silvers, and Dolum also dealt with their respective opponents and stood behind Rocks, watching him display his might, their eyes filled with awe and fanaticism.
Ryne, meanwhile, carried his frying pan to the kitchen in a corner of the square.
The chefs there were already hiding under tables, trembling in fear.
Ryne ignored them. He walked straight to the stove, his gaze sweeping over the prepared ingredients, then he frowned.
"Using such unfresh ingredients to entertain guests, and even trying to poison them?"
Ryne's voice wasn't loud, but it made the hiding chefs shiver.
He scooped a fish from a basin; its eyes were cloudy, and its gills were already dark.
He then picked up a piece of beef, pressed it with his finger; the meat was loose and lacked elasticity.
"This is the greatest insult to a chef and to food."
Ryne's voice turned cold.
He turned around and looked at the battle outside, which had already ended.
Rocks was stepping on the chest of the last still-breathing bounty hunter, interrogating him.
Ryne walked out and said to Rocks, "Captain, may I borrow this kitchen?"
Rocks was a bit surprised but still nodded, "As you wish."
Ryne re-entered the kitchen and said to the chefs, who were almost wetting their pants with fear, "Bring out all the best, freshest ingredients here. If I find you're holding anything back..."
He shook the frying pan in his hand, which still had Lycra's nosebleed on it.
The chefs dared not disobey, scrambling out of the cellar and cold storage with their privately hoarded top-grade ingredients.
Freshly slaughtered lambs, live lobsters still jumping, and rare vegetables smuggled from nearby.
Ryne nodded in satisfaction.
Then, he lit the largest bonfire in the center of the square, placed a huge iron grill over it, and began his performance.
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