Chapter Thirty-Seven: Blind Sniping? A Blind Sniper...

"Because this season, the string of storms over the North Sea has drastically reduced the number of fishing boats going out, the movement of merchant ships, and the volume of goods traded. At the same time, agricultural yields have fallen, workshops are running below capacity, and successive high fees have left the townsfolk with no surplus or buffer in their income. That's why, for two months in a row, our overall revenue has decreased. It was not an intentional attempt to block the Donquixote family's funds..." Pandahaye's speech was as rapid as a torrent; he barely had time to pause for breath, let alone punctuation.

Sweat began to trickle down the side of his bald head.

Although Qiubai had failed to hit any targets just now, he had comprehensively demonstrated the capabilities of his weapon. So when he redirected his aim, the mafiosi instantly recoiled in terror.

But Pandahaye, standing right at the front and bearing the brunt, had no chance to retreat. He didn't even dare blink; Qiubai's bowstring grew ever tighter.

"But now that the storm has passed, things have improved this month. We've prepared this month's remittance in advance, and the shortfall from the previous two months will be compensated double," he blurted, waving his hand urgently to those behind him. Two men, catching the boss's signal, hurried forward, placed a money chest before Qiubai, and then retreated back into the crowd like startled rabbits. No matter the circumstances, there is always a certain sense of security in numbers, even if that safety is often a mere illusion.

Qiubai turned his head to consult Gladiolus; he needed to seek his opinion before proceeding. The latter signaled him not to act rashly for the moment.

Then Senior stepped forward, crouched down, opened the chest, glanced at Pandahaye, and began to count the money. For a while, the only sound in the silent space was the soft rustle of bills being counted.

Senior's method was more professional than that of any bank clerk. In under three minutes, he had finished the count.

"No problem—the sum for this month is complete, and the arrears for the previous two months have also been compensated as promised."

Senior hadn't even bothered to check if the money was counterfeit; as long as the mafia dared hand over these funds to the Donquixote family, there was no way they'd be forgeries—unless they truly had a death wish. The consequences of deceit would be far worse than those of failing to pay in full.

In fact, whether the town's situation had really improved, as Pandahaye claimed, was uncertain. For all anyone knew, he might have even sold his wife just to scrape together enough money for Doflamingo... By now, he should have realized that turning to the Donquixote family for help had been a grave mistake from the beginning.

It was rather like an addiction—once entangled, it lasted a lifetime, unless...

But even though the debt was now repaid, would it really end so easily? Pandahaye was on edge; Gladiolus's eyes, hidden behind his goggles, exuded a gaze that chilled the soul.

"Qiubai, that's enough." At last, Gladiolus spoke again, and it seemed to be good news... At any rate, they'd barely made it through this ordeal.

Before Qiubai could lower his bow, Pandahaye, overcome with relief, collapsed to the floor.

"Pandahaye, overall you've done adequately. The Young Master is reasonably satisfied, but you must understand—once is enough for this sort of thing. No one will get a second chance." Gladiolus took the chest from Senior and issued his warning once more.

For the sake of his own life, Pandahaye had done all he could; his restitution was just about acceptable, so the matter could end here. The Donquixotes, having achieved their goal, could now depart content.

But as the group turned to leave, Qiubai crouched down, bringing his gaze level with the hapless mafia boss. His amber eyes shone with sincerity.

"I was only trying to scare you just now. Killing at random goes against my principles. But as the head of the mafia, you need a bit more confidence..."

He even reached out and patted Pandahaye on the shoulder.

"You have a solid case—there's nothing to be afraid of."

The mafia's inability to pay in full wasn't an act of defiance against the Donquixotes—though such resentment certainly existed, it was kept bottled up inside. Their shortfall was the result of the town-wide 'decline' in production; objective circumstances, not their own will, had brought it about. In this sense, Qiubai was right: the mafia did have a valid reason.

But fear was still necessary. Qiubai's words, as if reason alone could sway the heavens, would not hold water—after all, did the Donquixote family really care about reason?

In theory, perhaps they should, but they only invoked reason when it suited them.

Pandahaye cast a quick glance at the departing backs of the group, then swiftly lowered his head.

Compared to Doflamingo, he was indeed a minor figure, but even small fry must make decisions of their own.

...

"What do you mean, 'killing goes against your principles'?" Senior asked Qiubai as they left.

"Exactly what it sounds like."

"But I remember you once said you'd blow up END POINT just for fun, didn't you?"

Wasn't that a contradiction?

"Senior, let's analyze this rationally. My interest lies in watching the fireworks from END POINT's explosion. If I destroy END POINT, it may lead to the destruction of the New World, which in turn could cause many deaths... That's correct, right?"

"Correct," Senior nodded.

"So, in reverse: the direct cause of those deaths would be the destruction of the New World, which is caused by END POINT's destruction, and only then by me destroying END POINT... So, the deaths of the New World's people have little direct connection to me. That doesn't violate my principles." Qiubai rephrased his argument, twisting logic into a miraculous feat of sophistry.

"..."

Although even a fool could see the flaw in that logic, Senior was, for a moment, at a loss for words. What had become of this world?

On Qiubai's brow, the word "lunatic" could not have been more clearly written.

"So, you spared half the mafia just because of this 'principle'?" While Senior was left speechless, Gladiolus suddenly interjected.

He was a little annoyed; by rights, he would have liked nothing more than to dispose of the troublesome Pandahaye, but that would have gone against Doflamingo's orders. After all, training a new proxy was far too troublesome, so he had no choice but to let him go.

Especially now, seeing the mafiosi in the church swarming toward their boss, Gladiolus grew all the more irritable.

"Of course—"

"Of course not. In fact, no matter how big the target, if it’s more than fifty meters away, Qiubai can barely hit it." Ain interrupted Qiubai, offering her own explanation.

This time, it was Qiubai's turn to be dumbfounded... Was she exposing his weakness? On the contrary—she was actually helping him.

Qiubai truly couldn't hit the church, not that he was intentionally missing it. There was nothing disobedient about it.

Simply put, he was a sniper with a striking sense of style, but all he could really guarantee was that his arrows would fly in the general direction of his target. Whether they actually hit depended on luck.

Ain’s words seemed to displease Qiubai, and he curled his lips in mock annoyance, but inwardly he gave her a silent nod of approval. It was a tacit cooperation, at the very least communicating some of his intentions and, as for his skills, certain less-than-reliable facts to the 'family'.