After subduing Crocodile, Raleigh and his crew lingered on the island for a few days to secure their new asset.
One afternoon, an ordinary-looking Marine soldier quietly approached Raleigh in the bustling street and whispered.
"Vice-Admiral Raleigh, here is the latest intelligence."
He smoothly handed over a sealed Grand Line intelligence report, his face entirely unreadable.
Raleigh nodded slightly, and the soldier swiftly disappeared into the crowd, leaving no trace of his presence.
Regardless of the opponent, intelligence always came first.
Starting all the way back in the East Blue, Raleigh had been patiently, gradually expanding his own underground intelligence network.
Though it was not yet as extensive as the World Economy News Paper or the World Government's Cipher Pol agencies, he could now obtain many critical global updates promptly.
For instance, while the rest of the Navy considered Roger's recruitment of a rogue Wano samurai a minor, irrelevant event, only Raleigh knew the truth.
With Kozuki Oden—the only man alive who could read and decipher the ancient Poneglyphs—Roger would translate all four Road Poneglyphs within a year.
He would successfully locate the final island and become the one and only Pirate King.
Regarding such massive historical tides, Raleigh had no desire to intervene, nor would he try.
Unless he held the supreme position of Fleet Admiral and could command the entire Navy to besiege Roger's ship, he truly couldn't fathom how such a destined figure could die before fulfilling his ultimate fate.
Compared to overthrowing the existing, corrupt powers of the world, Raleigh found resisting the natural currents of history far too troublesome.
In the beginning, when the world hadn't yet taken notice of him, everything had gone smoothly for Raleigh.
Every lazy endeavor he undertook succeeded flawlessly. However, ever since his explosive involvement in the battle against Whitebeard, all eyes had been fixed upon him—including the cold, calculating gaze of the Five Elders.
Under the strict constraints of various political checks and balances, Raleigh was essentially forced to lay low and slack off.
For the World Government, having a highly decorated, exceptionally powerful, and incredibly young Vice-Admiral idle away his days was quite frustrating.
Yet, in the face of Raleigh's overwhelming personal authority, everyone remained silent.
Moreover, the Navy's top brass had not treated Raleigh unfairly.
The World Government had initially intended to assign Raleigh to Pangaea Castle as an elite guard, using his handsome face and pristine record as a public shield for the Celestial Dragons.
However, Fleet Admiral Kong and Admiral Sengoku, well aware of Raleigh's rebellious temperament and boundless potential, unanimously rejected the proposal.
They had already driven away Monkey D. Dragon—a man who possessed the potential to become an Admiral—and they truly could not afford to lose Christian Raleigh as well.
Though the name "Monkey D. Dragon" was not widely prominent to the global public at the time, the Navy's higher-ups, who had been closely monitoring him, knew the truth.
His newly formed Revolutionary Army already boasted over thirty thousand highly trained soldiers and the devout support of more than a hundred thousand civilians.
By then, more than half of the territories in the freezing Far North Nation had already fallen under the influence of Dragon's liberation forces.
In terms of a pure ideological threat, Dragon posed a far greater danger than the pirates of the Grand Line.
Whether in terms of sheer military organization or his revolutionary ideology, his movement delivered a severe, direct blow to the divine rule of the Celestial Dragons.
Nevertheless, the Navy's leadership still held out a desperate hope that Dragon would return to them once he saw the world for what it truly was.
For this reason, they did not proactively share intelligence about him with the World Government, and Sengoku and Garp even helped cover up many traces of his early activities.
"The era of chaos is about to begin," Raleigh murmured to himself, burning the intelligence report in his hand.
Over the past two years, the pirates had been thoroughly beaten down by the Navy, to the point where their very spines were nearly broken.
But the moment Roger reached the final island and became the Pirate King, it would give them a desperate rallying cry.
Pirates were peculiar, cockroach-like creatures—when beaten down, they would stay silent, quietly scavenging for scraps in the dark gutters.
But given the slightest advantage or inspiration, they would immediately leap out, gloating and swaggering across the seas.
Yet, to Raleigh, the coming Great Pirate Era was a good thing.
The more chaotic the times, the more certain people thrived like fish in water.
In times of strict peace, if Marine branch commanders died one after another, it would easily draw the furious attention of Navy Headquarters.
But in an era of global, absolute chaos, Headquarters would be far too preoccupied with its own desperate struggles to investigate the sudden deaths of a few corrupt branch commanders in the weakest sea.
Momonga thought the exact same thing.
Under his cold direction, their very first operation to permanently replace a corrupt branch commander was about to commence.
....
"It is about to begin," Momonga muttered, narrowing his eyes.
He hadn't been idle in the East Blue.
Before Raleigh had left for the Grand Line, Momonga had already trained a vast number of loyal, reformed Marine soldiers.
He had quietly deployed the most capable, fanatical ones to various corrupt branches, laying the bloody groundwork to seize control of the local command positions.
...
Tei Island, a remote, isolated island within the East Blue.
Though the island's mild climate was highly suitable for human habitation, its sheer isolation from major nations and trade routes left it far from prosperous.
While the island was entirely free from the troubles of pirate raids, the nearby Marine branch stationed there was another kind of terrifying scourge entirely.
Due to insufficient oversight from Headquarters and the difficulty of transmitting information in a timely manner, the area had become fertile ground for breeding absolute dictators.
The commander of Navy Branch 102: Captain Dyer Webb.
He was once a passionate Marine soldier who fiercely believed in absolute justice, but his heart had gradually rotted through the brutal trials of battle.
Years ago, during a heroic, desperate battle against a vicious pirate crew, he unfortunately had his left hand severed and was forced to leave the frontlines.
Fortunately, his superior still held him in high regard. Using a special quota reserved for war heroes, he maneuvered Webb into a safe position as the head of the 102nd Branch.
When he first arrived at Tei Island, Captain Dyer Webb was still full of fiery drive, hoping to diligently build up the Marine branch and turn the region into a pirate-free utopia.
However, due to the long-term absence of any real pirate threats, most of the Marine soldiers under his command had long grown accustomed to lazy, indulgent days.
Not only did Dyer Webb fail to motivate them, but his own broken spirit made him the very first to become corrupted.
How terrifying it is when a powerful, heroic captain—who had fought bloodthirsty pirates and sacrificed his own flesh for justice—falls completely from grace.
In just three weeks, Dyer Webb had led his Marine soldiers to violently eliminate everyone on the island who dared to disobey him!
Whether they were from legitimate society or the criminal underworld, anyone who defied his new laws was tied to heavy stones and sunk into the sea, with the blame conveniently pinned on "rogue pirates."
Tens of thousands of innocent residents across the entire island were forced to submit to Captain Dyer Webb's absolute tyranny.
At this moment, inside a luxurious, sprawling manor spanning thousands of square meters at the island's center, the ruler of the island had just woken up.
Years of comfortable, gluttonous living had long made Dyer Webb forget the hardships of rigorous military training.
His once robust, battle-hardened muscles were now enveloped in thick layers of fat, leaving only a grotesque, mountain-like physique.
With sleepy, bloodshot eyes, he pushed open his bedroom door, walked to a gold-plated washbasin, and splashed cold water fiercely onto his face.
Then, with the trembling help of a terrified maid, he changed into his oversized Marine coat and headed to the grand dining room.
"Valentine, has anything happened on the island recently?" Webb grunted, taking a seat at a table overflowing with decadent food.
A butler in a crisp suit stepped forward and bowed respectfully. "Sir, nothing of note has happened. Although a few households were initially unwilling to pay the new protection taxes, they eventually paid in full... after some persuasion from your soldiers."
Dyer Webb nodded approvingly.
As residents under his divine rule, of course they had to pay their taxes on time! If they didn't pay, where would his spending money come from?
Where would he get the massive funds needed to continually bribe his superiors at Headquarters to look the other way?
Therefore, any residents who refused to pay taxes were undoubtedly violent rioters obstructing the Navy's sacred law enforcement.
They had to be dealt with harshly to show the masses the brutal consequences of opposing the Marines.
Then, Dyer Webb's greasy, heavy hand grabbed a massive roasted pork knuckle.
He began gnawing at it voraciously, tearing the meat from the bone much like a starving, wild beast.
"By the way," Webb chewed loudly, "how are those new Marine recruits doing?"