Marco took the lead.
His blue-flame-engulfed body was now shrouded in a dense, purplish-black Haki.
A fist wreathed in dark Haki and enveloped in regenerative fire shot toward Whitebeard's face like a blazing meteor.
"Pops, watch out!" His voice carried a hint of reckless excitement.
"Too slow!"
Whitebeard neither dodged nor evaded the fierce attack.
He threw a punch of his own, also cloaked in supreme Armament Haki.
Though it appeared simple, it carried the weight of a mountain.
KRA-KOOM!
The moment their fists collided, the air itself seemed to tear under the immense pressure, cracking like a spiderweb.
The shockwave spread outward like shattered glass, delivering a breathtaking impact of sheer kinetic force.
Marco was sent flying backward by the powerful recoil, but he displayed astonishing agility mid-air.
He twisted his body gracefully, his flaming wings blazing behind him, and landed steadily, like an elegant dancer completing a stunning routine.
"My turn!"
Jozu's diamond body now shone with a triple radiance—rainbow diamond refraction, blinding yellow photons, and the white halo of tremor energy.
It was as dazzling as a brilliant star, impossible to ignore.
"Take this!" he roared, charging toward Whitebeard like an unstoppable, high-speed war chariot.
Wherever he passed, the ground cracked completely, the fissures spreading rapidly beneath his feet.
A glint flashed in Whitebeard's eyes as he keenly perceived Jozu's linear, overpowering attack.
His right leg descended like a battle axe, its speed and power astonishing to behold.
"Power is sufficient, but the angle is too direct!" His voice echoed through the air like thunder.
CLANG!
The moment Haki-coated flesh met Haki-coated diamond, a powerful shockwave erupted from the point of impact, sending all the surrounding pirate spectators tumbling to the ground.
They were tossed about like fallen leaves, expressions of terror on their faces.
"Pops, I'm coming too!"
Vista's twin blades, wrapped in rose petals and deep purple Haki, slashed from tricky, elegant angles.
The rose petals danced like ethereal sprites, appearing even more vibrant and deadly against the dark backdrop of the Armament.
"And me!"
Kingdew's greatsword gleamed with a cold light, targeting the lower body with every strike.
Each slash carried a fierce momentum, as if it could split the earth itself.
Whitey Bay's ice blades merged perfectly with her Haki, each strike carrying a bone-chilling cold that made one feel as if they were trapped in an arctic glacier.
Yet, even surrounded by these sixteen newly empowered Division Commanders, Whitebeard remained perfectly composed.
He used no Devil Fruit ability—neither the Tremor nor the Phoenix-Orochi flames.
He relied solely on pure physical skill and Armament Haki to counter every move.
Each action was precise; every attack and defense was infused with decades of combat wisdom forged in the era of Roger and Shiki.
"Haki is not for decoration!"
He drove Jozu back with a heavy elbow strike to the chest, its force seemingly capable of piercing steel despite Jozu's indestructible form.
"It must be as natural as breathing!"
As he spoke, he grabbed Kingdew's ankle, swung the massive man in a full circle, and slammed him into the ground.
WHAM!
Kingdew let out a startled cry mid-air but quickly rolled to adjust his posture, gritting his teeth, ready for the next assault.
By now, the training ground was riddled with holes.
The ground was covered in cracks and craters of varying depths, as if it had endured a brutal Buster Call.
Though the sixteen Division Commanders appeared somewhat disheveled and bruised, the fire in their eyes burned brighter than ever.
They realized the truth: the exact same top-tier Haki, in Whitebeard's hands, seemed to come alive.
He wielded every ounce of power at the most opportune moments, each strike a meticulously crafted work of art.
Their own crude control and forceful application of the mass-produced Haki left them in awe of their father, making them deeply aware of the vast gap in experience between them.
"Again!"
Whitebeard laughed heartily, beckoning with his hand.
His white crescent mustache fluttered amidst the surging Haki winds, a testament to his eternal vigor.
"If I don't knock you all down today, I won't drink a single drop tonight!"
"..."
"..."
By the time the last Division Commander—Marco—collapsed in exhaustion, the entire training ground had become a shocking scene of devastation.
The ground was riddled with trenches spreading out like a massive, menacing spiderweb.
Dust hung thick in the air, mingling with the residual energy from their intense battle, creating an atmosphere tinged with physical weariness but mental exhilaration.
Whitebeard stood firmly at the center of the field, towering like a majestic, unmovable mountain.
His purplish-black Armament Haki was gradually receding, fading like the lingering glow of a setting sun.
When his sweat dripped onto the cracked ground, it sizzled audibly against the superheated rock.
"Listen up, boys."
Whitebeard's voice carried an unprecedented seriousness and gravity.
He bent slightly, his rough and powerful hand scooping up a handful of loose sand and gravel.
The seemingly ordinary grains seemed to come alive in his grasp.
Zzzt.
Purplish-black Haki coiled around the loose dirt like nimble threads.
"Top-tier Armament Haki isn't used by just flooding your body with it."
The sand in his palm gradually coalesced under the enveloping Armament Haki, compressing and hardening until it formed a small, exquisitely crafted, pitch-black knife.
Empowered by the supreme Haki, the mere dirt emitted an intimidating, lethal aura.
Then, with a flick of his wrist.
WHOOSH!
The earthen blade shot forth like an arrow from a bow, tracing a blurred arc through the air as it flew straight toward Jozu.
Jozu, lying on his back, felt his scalp tingle instantly.
"Wait—?!"
CLINK.
The earthen sword struck its target accurately, shattering into dust upon impact, but leaving a distinct, faint white scratch mark on Jozu's incredibly hard, Haki-coated diamond chest.
Jozu stared at the scratch in disbelief.
'Dirt... just scratched my diamond?'
"Understand?"
This seemingly simple strike contained Whitebeard's profound mastery of Haki application: Internal Emission and precise structural hardening.
"See?"
Whitebeard slowly walked over to his sons lying haphazardly on the ground.
He gently tapped Marco's forehead with his fingertip, and a faint ripple of invisible Haki immediately spread out.
Surprisingly, the ripple caused no harm to Marco.
Instead, it felt like a gentle, solid push, demonstrating Whitebeard's godlike control over his spirit—able to release and retract lethal force with absolute precision.
"Understanding Haki is like sensing ocean currents at sea or reading the wind in the sky. It is not a club to bash your enemies with; it is an extension of your will."
His gaze swept over each of his sons, filled with expectation and strict instruction.
Vista struggled to sit up.
The once-vibrant rose petals on his body now hung limply, clinging to him as if drained of life.
A trace of confusion and frustration flickered in his eyes as he murmured, "But Pops... we clearly have the same volume of Haki now..."
"Thought having top-tier Haki made you invincible?"
Whitebeard suddenly threw his head back and laughed, his voice echoing across the ruined training ground.
He looked at his disheveled sons, his tone full of fond guidance.
"Gurararara! How naive!"
His laughter sent a jolt through everyone present.
No wonder they always struggled to control it properly; they were treating a scalpel like a sledgehammer.
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