Simultaneous Time Travel: What Villain? I'm the Protagonist!

The hull scraped against the rocks with a muffled thud.

Robin furled the sails, and the boat rocked twice against the base of the red earth. She looked up—the rock face rose straight up, its top invisible.

Sheng Ren stood at the bow of the boat and looked up.

"Three days," Robin said.

He didn't turn around, but just hummed in response.

"No time limit."

"Know."

Sheng Ren took a step forward, standing still at the bow of the boat, his feet beginning to feel hot.

"Bang—"

With a muffled thud, the bow of the boat sank half a foot, while the people were pulled up and shot straight up twenty meters.

Robin looked up as the ball of fire shrank smaller and smaller until it disappeared, before turning and going into the cabin.

At about seven thousand meters, the wind felt like steel knives, scraping Sheng Ren until it hurt. He didn't look down; below were clouds, and below the clouds was the sea. Under the sea, Robin's ship was probably shrunken into the size of a sesame seed.

The momentum is about to end.

He was suspended in mid-air, falling for half a second, and immediately punched behind him, using the force to lean forward. When he saw the cliff, he flipped his wrist, inserted his five fingers into the crevice, swung half a circle, and found a protruding rock to stop.

Using his right foot for leverage, he crawled northwest. It was only three thousand meters left; he couldn't be discovered. Changing direction was crucial to avoid exposing Robin; caution was paramount.

Two thousand one hundred meters, nine hundred meters remaining.

He looked up and saw that it was still a cliff, stretching endlessly.

Suddenly, he heard a sound and cursed inwardly. There were people here. He immediately pressed himself against the stone wall and even slowed his breathing.

Voices carried on the wind, drifting down from slightly to the right overhead, growing ever closer.

"...Group Three left today, heading towards the New World."

"Is it really necessary for the regimental commander to lead the team personally?"

"You don't know, the higher-ups are frantic. I heard that the thing that traitor has is even more troublesome than an ancient weapon."

"More troublesome than ancient weapons? Are you sending us to our deaths?"

"Shut up, keep your voice down."

The footsteps passed overhead and then faded into the distance.

Sheng Ren pressed himself against the wall and waited for three minutes to make sure there was no movement before slowly climbing up.

Ancient weapons.

He suddenly wanted to laugh; compared to an incinerator, that thing was at best a lighter.

One hundred meters.

He saw the wall.

The top of the red earth continent on his side was not pointed, but a gentle slope, with a three-zhang-high stone wall on top, and a watchtower on the top, with the flag of the World Government flying on the top of the tower.

The flag flapped in the wind.

Sheng Ren placed the sticker thirty meters away from the wall and didn't move it.

The man on the watchtower was smoking a cigarette, puffing away. Even from thirty meters away, he could smell that the cigarette was the same cheap brand as the ones the marines protecting him on Egghead Island smoked.

The man flicked his cigarette butt, which arced through the air before falling to the bottom of the cliff.

The moment the man threw the cigarette butt, he used his wrist to flip inside and hide in the man's blind spot.

On the other side of the wall, the lights were on.

The CP staff member on duty put down his coffee, continued flipping through the yellowed records, and yawned.

"Devil Fruit transcription project... prototype... mother spark..."

He was muttering to himself and dozing off, which showed that he had been working for a long time. It seems that even in Mary Geoise, it's 996.

After the chaos six months ago, the Five Elders ordered their leader to reorganize all the relevant information. The records left behind by the traitor on Egghead Island could fill three rooms, but most of them were Vegapunk's manuscripts; his own notes had long been taken away.

He turned to the last page, froze, and saw a line written on the paper:

Instructions for the Handover of the Mother Seed

But when you flip it over, the bottom is all white.

"Damn it," he cursed after turning the paper over and over to make sure there were no words on it. "Damn it, this bastard boss is really incompetent, I have to fill it out."

Sheng Ren pressed himself against the corner of the wall, staring at the back of the man's head.

The CP employee flipped through the blank page three times, then slammed it onto the table, leaning back so the chair creaked.

"Handover procedures, handover procedures, handover my ass," he muttered, pulling a flask from the drawer, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig. "Something happened half a year ago, and now you want me to make up for it? I wasn't even there at the time."

Sheng Ren didn't move.

The employee took another swig of wine, put the wine jug on the table, leaned back in his chair, and stared blankly at the ceiling.

"The Mother Flame..." he muttered to himself, "The handover... to whom was this thing handed over?"

Sheng Ren slid out from the corner, his steps light and silent on the carpet.

The employee was still muttering, "That happened six months ago. I was rummaging through the trash on Judiciary Island six months ago—"

Sheng Ren frowned, raised his right hand, shaped it into a knife, and gently stroked the side of his neck.

With a muffled thud, the employee lurched forward, his face slamming onto the table, making the coffee cup jump, and then fell asleep.

"Since you don't know, I'll find it myself," Sheng Ren said, walking around the table, lifting the person off the chair, and shoving them under the desk.

He sat down in the chair. There were three stacks of documents on the table. He glanced at them. The top one was the "Egghead Island Material Allocation Record". He flipped through a few pages. It was all about the entry and exit of experimental materials: alcohol, test tubes, petri dishes. They weren't very useful.

The second stack was of personnel files. He pulled one out and flipped through it. His name was on the last page, with a passport photo from six months ago pasted on it, and a note below: Fugitive, extremely dangerous.

The third stack is the thinnest, with a kraft paper cover and the word "Confidential" printed on it, stamped in red.

Sheng Ren opened it.

Page 1: "Project Proposal for the Mother Spark," dated five years ago. The applicant section lists two names: one is Vegapunk's signature, and the other is his.

He turned over.

Page two: "Technical Specifications of the Mother Flame," filled with dense data; he glanced at it and knew it was the one he had written years ago.

Page 3: Record of Mother Fire Transmission.

He stopped.

The paper contained only one line: The prototype of the Mother Spark was transferred by Vegapunk to the third underground level of the Land of the Gods, Beta Sector, on [Date] for power generation.

Signatures of the transferors: Begaponk, Sheng Ren.

Recipient's Signature: Shamrock St.

"A prototype?" Sheng Ren raised an eyebrow, finally having gained something. Unfortunately, it was too big, several times larger than the finished product, and had many operational problems, so the finished product was still the best option.

He turned to the next page, which was completely blank. He turned to the next page, and it was still blank.

He flipped through the entire booklet from beginning to end and found no record of where the finished products went.

Just then, footsteps came from outside the door.

Sheng Ren didn't move. He looked down at the desk and saw the employee curled up there, still unconscious.

"Knock knock knock".

"Open the door and inspect."

"The patrolman," Sheng Ren said, his eyes darting around as he stood up, walked around the table, and stopped against the wall by the door.

"Knock knock knock knock!"

"Dead? Open the door!"

The doorknob moved.

Sheng Ren placed his right palm against the wall by the door, suppressing his breathing to the shallowest possible.

The door opened a crack, and half a face peeked in—a scruffy beard and a furrowed brow.

"Jesse?" The man pushed the door open a crack, poked his head in, and scanned the room. "Where is he?"

Sheng Ren didn't move. The man cursed and stepped over the threshold.

The moment the man landed, Sheng Ren delivered a karate chop to his neck. The man's eyelids rolled back, and he fell forward. Sheng Ren caught him and gently placed him on the ground.

He squatted down, turned the face to face, and examined it under the light.

He was in his early thirties, had a buzz cut, high cheekbones, and was about the same height and shoulder width as me.

The uniform he wore was the standard CP style with a black stand-up collar, and he had a name tag pinned to his chest: Inoue.

Sheng Ren took off his coat and put it on himself. It was a little tight, but it was okay.

He changed his trousers too. The leather shoes were too tight, and he frowned but tolerated it.

Finally, I took off the name tag, turned it over, and looked at the back. There was no photo, only a number.

He crumpled his clothes into a ball and stuffed them into the lap of the employee under the desk, then pushed the person further in to make sure they couldn't be seen from the outside.

He then got up and walked outside.

There were three people standing in the corridor at that moment, two men and one woman, all wearing CP uniforms and the same name tags pinned to their collars.

The three people outside the door were chatting against the wall when they heard the door open and turned around in unison.

Sheng Ren hid half of his face in the shadow of the door frame, and closed the door with his head down.

"Inoue, what happened to your face?" the woman asked.

Sheng Ren raised his left hand and pressed his thumb against his forehead: "I bumped into the door frame," he said in a low voice, trying to imitate Inoue's voice as much as possible, "That broken light, I didn't see it clearly when I went in."

"Bumped into a door frame?" The woman laughed. "You've been patrolling for eight years and bumped into door frames?"

"Haven't crashed in eight years, and you did today. So what?" Sheng Ren walked over from the doorway, still with his head down, his thumb pressed against his face. "Got a cigarette?"

The man took a bag out of his pocket and handed it over.

Sheng Ren took out a cigarette, put it in his mouth, and the man handed him a light. He leaned over, lit it, took a puff, and turned his face to the side to exhale smoke.

"Where's Jesse?" Another man gestured towards the door. "Shouldn't he have been out by now?"

Sheng Ren had a cigarette between his fingers and his thumb pressed against his cheek.

"He fell asleep at the table," he said. "He was having a headache flipping through that pile of files."

"Slacking off again, fucking." The woman laughed and cursed.

The three walked forward, while Sheng Ren stood still and waited until they had passed before following them.

The corridor was long and dimly lit, and the oil paintings on the walls were covered with a layer of dust.

He walked at the back, only half of his face showing, his thumb pressed against his forehead. To make it look realistic, he had actually pinched his forehead before leaving.

"Oh, right," mimicking the voice, "Jesse was muttering for a while, saying he couldn't find the handover record of the Mother Flame."

The three people in front of him didn't stop. The woman turned around and glanced at him: "Handover records? What handover records?"

"The mother spark is finished," Sheng Ren said. "The booklet in his hand only records up to the prototype; the rest is completely blank."

Another man scoffed, "Why is he looking through that stuff? It's not our business."

Sheng Ren flicked away the cigarette ash and pressed his thumb against his face:

"He was asked to organize the files, and when he flipped to that spot, he found a missing page and was afraid of taking responsibility."

"So what if it's missing? It's not like he lost it," the woman slowed her pace to let him catch up. "That thing was handled personally by the Five Elders. What can someone at our level possibly find out?"

Sheng Ren hummed in agreement.

Do you know where the finished product is?

All three of them looked at him at the same time.

The man frowned. "Why are you asking that?"

Sheng Ren took the cigarette away from his mouth, shifted the angle of his thumb that was pressing his face, revealing half of his eye, which he squinted, looking as tired as someone who had stayed up too late.

"Jesse said if we can't find it, we have to report it," he said. "Reporting means writing a report, writing a report means explaining why it's missing, and explaining why it's missing means mentioning who among the four of us was there and who wasn't tonight—"

"Okay, okay," the woman interrupted him, waving her hand, "Stop fucking talking."

The other man sighed and leaned against the wall.

"The finished product is in Pangaea," he said. "I was on duty that day and I saw with my own eyes Saint Shamrock leading people to Pangaea."

"Alright, that's enough," the frowning man said, stopping his companion when he saw he wanted to say more. "Get back with the group."

"You guys go first, I'll tell Jesse and catch up in a bit," Sheng Ren said, not wanting to be exposed.

"Hurry up, or it'll be dawn," the frowning man said.

Sheng Ren took a few steps back and waited until they had walked about ten meters before slowly following them.

But after taking only a few steps, he stopped and looked ahead. The three men were kneeling down, their heads pressed to the ground, their bodies trembling.

A figure emerged from the end of the corridor—red hair? No, it was Shamrock, Garin's son, and the red-haired man's brother.

Sheng Ren's face was still half-hidden in the shadows, his thumb pressed against the bruise on his forehead, his knees were bent halfway down, and he was half-squatting.

The man's gaze swept over.

"Inoue?"

Sheng Ren didn't move.

"What happened to your face?"

"I bumped into the door frame," Sheng Ren said, his head down and his eyes fixed on the seams between the floor tiles.

Shamrock took two steps forward and stopped in front of him.

The toe of his leather shoe was less than half a foot from Sheng Ren's knee.

"look up,"

Sheng Ren lifted his face, his thumb still pressing against his forehead, revealing one eye with drooping eyelids, as if he was too sleepy to open it.

Shamlock stared at him for three seconds.

Those three seconds felt like three years.

"The patrol team is going to the West District tonight," he said. "The East District is under lockdown tonight, and there's been some activity in Pangu City."

Sheng Ren hummed in agreement.

"You three," Shamrock said, his gaze sweeping over the three kneeling figures, "continue your patrol."

Then he looked at Shengren: "Inoue, you don't look well."

Sheng Ren pressed his thumb to his forehead, his eyes squinting. "It hurts," he said. "That hit was pretty hard."

Shamrock looked at him for two seconds, then turned and continued walking. "You continue searching," he said. "Inoue, come with me."

Sheng Ren lifted his foot and followed.

The entrance to Pangaea is located at the deepest part of Mary Geoise. After passing through three checkpoints and two underground corridors, you finally reach a three-zhang-high iron gate.

Four guards stood in front of the iron gate. When they saw it was Shamrock, they snapped to attention.

"Open the door."

After passing through the iron gate, crossing the corridor, and reaching the deepest part of the corridor, Shamrock suddenly stopped.

"You've been pressing your face with your hand the whole time," he said. "Aren't you tired?"

Sheng Ren didn't say anything.

"Take it off and let me see."

Sheng Ren removed his thumb from his cheekbone.

The skin was red, and there were clear finger marks; it was from pinching myself.

Shamrock glanced at it and then smiled.

"I pinched myself," he said.

Sheng Ren smiled too.

"You have good eyesight."

Shamrock didn't reply, but took a step back, leaned against the metal cabinet behind him, and crossed his arms.

"Sheng Ren," he said, "three billion, the Flame-Flame Fruit, martial arts skills and Haki above the Admiral level, stole the Furnace and ran away half a year ago, is he here in Mary Geoise to deliberately seek his death?"

The room was silent for three seconds.

Sheng Ren suddenly asked, "Are you alone?"

Shamrock did not answer.

"You dared to bring me in here all by yourself?" Sheng Ren said.

Shamrock lowered his hands from his chest and stood up straight.

"I'm enough on my own."

Sheng Ren looked at him and suddenly smiled.

"Your dad didn't tell you," he said, "how did Kizaru get that injury?"

Shamrock didn't move.

Sheng Ren took a step forward.