Can a thousand-year-old corpse really remain intact in a coffin?
"Your ancestors sure had some unique ways of doing things..."
Lynch stood far away, not daring to get close.
He had a bad feeling—like at any moment, one of these ancient ancestors might jump out and smash his knee.
Hancock, however, felt no such hesitation.
"Hey, Hancock, go and see if there are two things stuck in the center of the coffin?"
Thanks to his night vision, Lynch could see more clearly than her. He directed her remotely, using his flashlight to highlight the objects.
"Right there. Be careful not to hit the coffin."
Lynch used a flashlight to shake the two objects in the center of the coffin.
"I see them."
Hancock's heels clicked against the stone floor as she made her way to the center of the 91 coffins.
When she saw the two things stuck on the ground in the middle, she immediately exclaimed,
"Sky Moon Shield! Sky Thorn Spear!"
"Do you know these two things?" Lynch was surprised.
"I recognize them." Hancock said in shock: "I thought they were just like other myths and stories and only existed in legends."
There are many myths and stories about Amazon Lily, and the Sky Moon Shield and the Sky Thorn Spear are one of them.
Even the statues of the previous empresses on Amazon Lily Island all held these two weapons in their hands.
The Sky-Moon Shield is said to be able to absorb all attacks in the world and is the strongest shield in the world.
It has a silver appearance and is only 90cm in diameter from top to bottom, but it is surprisingly heavy, weighing a full fifty kilograms.
The Sky Thorn Spear was said to pierce through any defense, making it the sharpest spear in existence.
It was jet black, covered in irregular spikes, leaving nowhere to grip.
It is a short spear, but it is much longer than most swords.
After listening to Hancock's words, Lynch suddenly felt an urge.
If the Sky Thorn Spear is used to attack the Sky Moon Shield, which one will be better, the strongest shield, or the strongest spear.
Lynch shook his head to get rid of the thought.
Regardless of whether the legend is true or not, this should be a national treasure of Amazon Lily, and the fact that they were left here as the only burial offerings...
If he messed up, Mother-in-law Nyon would fight him to the death.
Hancock reached out and curiously touched the spikes on the Sky Thorn Spear.
Something unexpected happened.
The spikes on the second half of the spear retracted slightly, creating a smooth grip for her to hold.
"For these two weapons to be buried here, they must be at least a thousand years old," Lynch remarked.
"It seems they also possess some level of intelligence."
In this world, many weapons have self-awareness.
Take demon swords, for example—if they reject you, they might cripple you or worse.
Zoro nearly got drained dry by Enma.
Or maybe, someday, a cursed blade will surface on the seas—one that grows stronger with every kill.
It will whisper to its wielder, urging them to slaughter until they lose their mind completely.
Lynch couldn't quite recall where he heard that story, but it had been a long time ago.
Meanwhile, Hancock slowly spread her slender fingers and wrapped them around the Sky Thorn Spear.
"Do you want me to hold you?" she whispered.
Suddenly, a strange memory flooded Hancock's mind.
It was a story—told from 91 different perspectives—yet she observed it all as if she were a god watching from above.
A long time ago, there was a wealthy man.
How should one describe him? He was well-known for his kindness, and countless women admired him.
But despite his popularity, he never boasted or flaunted his status.
Because this rich man had a peculiar obsession—he was only interested in other men's wives.
Frankly, it was twisted.
It turns out that wifes fanatics existed even a thousand years ago.
Perhaps, if a certain traitor named Cao were around, he and this man would have plenty to talk about.
With money to bend the world to his will, the rich man sent his followers far and wide, seeking out poor families and offering to buy their wives.
Of course, he wasn't interested in just any woman—they had to be young and attractive at the very least.
Most husbands refused.
But in that desperate slum, where people struggled to find their next meal, many gave in to desperation, selling their wives just to survive.
Over the course of two years, the rich man's housekeeper traveled far and wide, purchasing 120 women for his master.
The rich man owned vast wealth and massive estates, but to maintain his reputation, he locked these women away in a dark basement.
If that was all, perhaps things wouldn't have been as horrifying.
But the man was a twisted sadist.
Whenever he was frustrated or bored, he would descend into the basement and torture them for his own sick pleasure.
Many never survived.
Five years passed.
The women—betrayed by their husbands, locked in darkness, and subjected to endless torment—had long lost hope in the world.
All that remained was hatred.
Betrayal, imprisonment, torture—all of it festered into a burning wrath against men.
Then, one day, the rich man grew tired of them.
Not wanting to stain his public image, he ordered his housekeeper to secretly transport them far away and have them executed.
The housekeeper, driven by greed, ignored the rich man's orders. Instead of killing the women, he sold them to slave traders to make extra money.
The slave traders then sold them to a group of pirates, treating them as nothing more than objects for pleasure.
But the pirates made a fatal mistake—they unchained the women.
At the moment when the pirates were most vulnerable, their minds clouded and their bodies unguarded, the women seized their chance.
They grabbed the weapons carelessly tossed aside by the pirates and struck back, slaughtering every last one of them.
That pirate crew, which had barely been at sea for a few months, became the first victims of their revenge.
With the ship now theirs, the women were free—and from that moment, the first Kuja Pirates were born.
As heavy rain poured down, countless naked, scarred women gathered on the deck.
They looked at one another—their wounds, their pain, their rage—and made a vow that would shape their destiny:
To kill every man in the world.
But they knew that such a goal was impossible with their current strength.
Even the rich man, the root of their suffering, was out of reach, surrounded by hundreds of guards.
So, they set their sights on their first targets—the husbands who had sold them.
After exacting their revenge, the Kuja Pirates set sail once more, determined to grow stronger at any cost and carve their path across the seas.
They fought like madwomen, showing no fear of death. Their unnatural tolerance for pain sent chills down their enemies' spines.
The pain from swords and bullets was nothing compared to the torture they had endured under the rich man's hands.
In battle, the worst that could happen was death—but in that dark basement, they had already experienced something far worse.
Five years of agony had reshaped them, pushing their pain threshold beyond human limits.
With their reckless ferocity and unyielding resolve, the Kuja Pirates quickly made a name for themselves, spreading fear among smaller pirate crews.
Time passed… five years later…
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TO BE CONTINUED
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