The Whitebeard Pirates were founded by Edward Newgate, known as "Whitebeard," who possessed the most powerful Paramecia-type Devil Fruit: the Tremor-Tremor Fruit.
At this point in time, the Whitebeard Pirates were considered the strongest pirate crew in the world.
Lin Mo recalled that their main ship was a massive vessel with a whale-shaped prow.
However, the ship now approaching Baratie was a small, lightweight sailboat.
From the looks of it, it must be one of Whitebeard's division commanders.
But which one, Lin Mo didn't yet know.
He withdrew his gaze and didn't dwell on it, immediately heading for the staircase.
When he arrived downstairs in the restaurant, the place was eerily silent.
All the diners who had been eating earlier had fled in a panic.
Zeff stood with the chef who had brought him the message, facing off against Krieg and his men.
Aside from his lackeys, Krieg was accompanied by a woman.
It was the same woman from yesterday—the one who had threatened Sanji.
Just as Lin Mo expected, Krieg's eyes widened in shock when he saw Zeff.
"You! You're the pirate who commanded a ship as a chef—the unparalleled 'Red-Leg Zeff!' I heard you died in a shipwreck. Never thought you were still alive!"
Zeff narrowed his eyes and sneered, "So what if I'm alive? It has nothing to do with you. I'm just a cook now."
Krieg was briefly stunned, then burst into laughter. His face already resembled a monkey's—laughing only emphasized it.
"Hahaha," Krieg roared with laughter. "That's a nice way to put it. Living as a cook? Sounds more like you're only good enough to be a cook now."
He looked at Zeff's prosthetic leg and smirked even wider. "If you were whole, I might be cautious—but now? You've lost a leg, which means you've lost your combat edge. You're no threat to me."
"So what?" Zeff said coldly. "I'm not a pirate anymore. And I still have my hands. Just say what you came to say."
"Heh." Krieg grinned sinisterly. "Red-Leg Zeff, you're one of the few men who entered and returned safely from the Grand Line. You must've kept a logbook of your year at sea. Give it to me, and I'll spare all of you."
"Hmph!" Zeff snorted. "Yes, I kept a logbook. But I won't give it to you. That logbook is the pride of my former crewmates. Handing it over to you would disgrace them."
Krieg's face darkened. He clenched his fists. "Then I'll take it by force!"
Just then, a relaxed male voice came from the restaurant entrance.
"Well, well. We finally spot a floating restaurant and come to enjoy dinner... seems like we showed up at the wrong time."
A tall, lean man with a golden pompadour, a dagger at his waist, and a Whitebeard Pirates tattoo on his chest stepped through the main doors with a few crewmates.
Lin Mo immediately recognized him.
It was pineapple-headed Marco—the second-in-command of the Whitebeard Pirates.
Krieg turned impatiently toward the voice, but when he saw the tattoo on Marco's chest, he froze.
That tattoo looked familiar…
"Hey! Can't you see our boss is talking?" one of Krieg's men shouted at Marco's crew. "Get lost!"
"You know who our captain is?" one of Marco's men shot back, about to argue more, but Marco raised a hand to stop him.
"No need to argue with people who don't know any better," Marco said, stroking his chin with a half-smile. "It's been years since anyone's told me to 'get lost.'"
"So arrogant! Boss, we'll handle this!" one of Krieg's men barked, rallying the others to charge Marco's group.
Zeff suddenly chuckled.
Krieg frowned. "What's so funny?"
Zeff sneered. "No wonder you're the most active pirate crew in the East Blue lately. You actually dared to pick a fight with someone from Whitebeard's crew."
"What? Whitebeard?" Krieg finally realized—the tattoo was the Whitebeard Pirates' insignia.
This is bad.
Right now, he definitely couldn't afford to mess with Whitebeard!
"Everyone, stop!" Krieg shouted at his men.
But it was already too late.
His underlings had already charged at Marco's crew with weapons drawn.
"You guys are ruthless," Marco said calmly, watching them, "picking on people who haven't even eaten yet."
His crewmates smiled wickedly behind him, cracking their knuckles and warming up.
Marco turned to Zeff casually. "We're all starving. Could you prepare dinner for fifteen? Thanks."
Zeff chuckled and nodded. "Sure, no problem. Just—try not to wreck my restaurant while you're at it."
"No worries—we'll take the fight outside," Marco grinned.
Zeff nodded again and headed for the kitchen.
A worried chef whispered behind him, "Boss, are you sure this is okay? Krieg commands fifteen pirate ships!"
"No problem," Zeff replied. "The Whitebeard Pirates are absurdly strong. And the guy here today is their number two, the Phoenix Marco. Dealing with Krieg will be easy."
With that, Zeff went toward the spiral staircase.
Spotting Lin Mo nearby, he smiled again. "Kid, haven't had dinner yet, have you?"
Lin Mo looked at him and nodded.
"Then help me watch the place. Dinner's on me."
"I have money."
"Then I'll throw in a bottle of good wine."
"Deal."
"Haha!" Zeff laughed and went upstairs.
Outside, Marco's crew didn't retaliate immediately. Instead, they kept retreating until they drew Krieg's men out of the restaurant—then they attacked, tossing them one by one into the sea.
Krieg tried to stop them, but by the time he reached the scene, his entire crew had been defeated.
He trembled with rage.
The woman beside him cowered. "D-Dear, w-what do we do? They seem really strong…"
"Get lost!" Krieg snapped at her, making her recoil in fear.
Marco smiled. "Picking on women now? You must be the captain of that big ship docked nearby. Let's make a deal—how about you and your men just leave?"
Marco's crew burst into laughter behind him.
Furious, Krieg tore off his coat to reveal a golden suit of armor and growled, "Don't think I'm scared of you just because you're Whitebeard's men. You only made it to the Grand Line first! I'm covered in weapons—crushing you will be easy!"
"Heh. So you haven't been to the Grand Line yet," Marco said with a smirk. "Let's see if your bite matches your bark, you frog in a well."