Even though Whitebeard had already witnessed Michael's terrifying talent...
He was still taken aback by his learning speed.
That slash just now—there was no doubt it was at a level that demanded his full attention.
If he had still been using the same strength as during the earlier lesson, that slash would've definitely injured him.
Maybe not seriously, but still—an injury was an injury!
It had been a long time since anyone had managed to land a wound on him!
After that strike, Whitebeard remained silent for a long time, then suddenly burst out laughing:
"Kurararara! Terrifying! Truly terrifying! I've never liked a Navy man this much."
"I'm serious. Leave the Navy. Become my son… no, become my heir! Inherit everything from the Whitebeard Pirates!"
"Huh!?"
Whitebeard's words didn't just shock the captains and crew beside him—Garp, watching from afar, was also dumbfounded.
Heir.
This wasn't simply about Michael joining the Whitebeard Pirates.
He was talking about handing over the entire future of the crew to him!
Michael had to admit, he was momentarily tempted.
After all...
The Whitebeard Pirates—sixteen commanders and sixteen divisions, each with about a hundred members, totaling sixteen hundred—were all elite among elites.
Aside from Marco, whose status as the Emperor's right hand was a bit embarrassing, the other captains had at least Vice Admiral-level combat power.
Not to mention dozens of allied pirate crews—counting everyone, there were thirty to forty thousand men!
Honestly, this was equivalent to getting a fully structured military force.
Just a bit of disciplined training, and they could be marched straight into battle.
But the temptation only lasted for a moment.
Compared to other pirates, the Whitebeard Pirates were still too lackadaisical.
They had strength, yes, but they might not align with his ideals.
Even if bonds were forged later on, differing paths would eventually lead to conflict.
"Tch tch tch, I'll pass. Though I lost my parents early on, I recently found my long-lost older sister... I'm really not lacking love." Michael shrugged. "And calling me your son... aren't you afraid Sengoku will give you hell for that? But since you just taught me so much, I might consider burning you a few offerings after you die."
As he finished...
Both of them showed the same feral grin—the kind predators flashed before striking.
"So what you're saying is... you're planning to kill me first, then burn me offerings?"
"That depends on your next move."
As Michael spoke, the liquid Holy Light armor gradually receded.
His Navy uniform reappeared.
He was fully disengaging from combat.
"What's wrong, brat? You scared?"
"If I were scared, then who almost chopped your beard off just now?" Michael curled his lip. "I can't beat you right now, and this isn't the right place for a final battle."
The moment he said that, the captains—who had been swept up in the heated spectacle—finally came to their senses. Their faces turned pale.
Right, this was Fish-Man Island, for crying out loud.
No matter how strong one was, fighting here would only end in mutual destruction.
Michael folded his wings and rolled his neck, as if he hadn't just clashed with Whitebeard in an intense battle.
Far too calm.
Seeing this, Whitebeard raised an eyebrow and lost the desire to continue fighting.
But the name Maria D. Michael was now etched firmly into his memory.
"...Seems like our fight will have to wait for the future."
Whitebeard turned and waved to Marco.
Marco gave the signal for his men to break the encirclement and let the Navy group go.
"Phew... thank you for the rescue, Rear Admiral Michael."
"...Don't thank me yet. From now on, try using your heads a little. If you keep following that old fart Garp's example in everything, I'll really lose it."
No sooner had Michael finished than he sensed a powerful gust of wind from a fist charging at him from behind.
He tilted his head slightly and dodged it with ease.
After withdrawing his punch, Garp walked over with the other Navy soldiers.
"Hmph! You've improved quite a bit these past two years, huh?"
"Cut the crap. From now on, train your troops however you want, but don't pass your bad habits on to them. Think their bodies can handle the consequences like yours can?"
Whitebeard watched as Michael scolded and half-berated Garp. Though Garp looked annoyed, he didn't object to Michael's behavior at all...
Almost as if he was used to it—and accepted it.
"Is everyone in the D clan this outrageous?" Whitebeard said as he held onto Murakumogiri. "You're the Navy's hero, and you're letting your subordinate scold you like that?"
"I do what I want. What's it to a pirate like you?" Garp cracked his knuckles. "What, it's been so long you've started missing my fists? Shall we go another round?"
Just as sparks were about to fly between Whitebeard and Garp, Michael stepped between them, smiling:
"The physical brawl segment is over. Next up should be a battle of brains."
"Whitebeard, your appearance here—are you planning to place Fish-Man Island under your protection?"
"So what if I am?"
"That battle just now should've made it clear. I may only be a Rear Admiral, but I still carry some weight." Michael extended his hand toward Whitebeard. "So, how about a little cooperation? Nothing to do with the World Government. Just a private collaboration between the Navy and the Whitebeard Pirates."
"Cooperation? A Navy man wanting to work with the Whitebeard Pirates?" Whitebeard sneered arrogantly. "I don't work with anyone! Ever!"
"Pah! You're not young anymore, but you're still full of crap. Back when you were with the Rocks Pirates, wasn't that cooperation with Charlotte Linlin? Didn't you team up with Golden Lion and Ochoku too?" Michael scoffed at his words. "Besides, this three-way alliance benefits everyone—Navy, Whitebeard Pirates, and Fish-Man Island alike. With both of us protecting them, Fish-Man Island would finally have real backing."
"Kurararara! I'm not some goody-two-shoes! Why the hell would I do what you say?"
"Cut the act, old man. Deep down, you can't stand seeing your friend's homeland fall into ruin. You want to help, but you just can't let go of your pride."
Michael shot Whitebeard a disdainful glance.
Keep pretending.
It was obvious he came because of his friendship with Neptune and wanted to help, yet he insisted on making it look like he was staging a grand invasion.
"So, are you in or not?"
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