At this thought, Lancelot's relaxed expression suddenly turned resolute.
The brief sting of his first wound had been a necessary lesson, a baptism by a true master.
He turned to look at Jinbe, who was watching him with a calm, appraising gaze.
A flicker of genuine gratitude appeared in Lancelot's eyes, and he said.
"Thank you, Jinbe-san."
Hearing this, Jinbe's lips curled slightly into a faint, warm smile.
"This is merely a common flaw among all geniuses. Back in my youth, I too made similar mistakes. Hahaha…"
His hearty, rumbling laughter echoed across the deserted island, carrying the openness and composure that came only with the passage of time and the experience of countless battles.
Lancelot was moved by these words; this was the wisdom of a true veteran, an unstated acknowledgment of his potential.
He chuckled softly along with him.
But soon, Lancelot suppressed his smile.
His gaze refocused, growing sharp and intense as he looked at Jinbe, asking earnestly.
"In that case, would you be willing to face one more of my attacks?"
Jinbe was momentarily taken aback by the sudden shift but quickly regained his composure.
His expression grew slightly more serious.
This young man was not just strong; he was driven.
He nodded slowly and replied, "Very well! Come at me with all you've got—I'll take it head-on."
Lancelot took a deep breath, his massive chest rising and falling with the rhythm of his breathing.
The relaxed expression on his face gradually faded, replaced by an unprecedented, cold solemnity.
Next, he gripped the hilt of the Sandai Kitetsu at his waist and, with a deliberate, reverent motion, carefully sheathed the cursed blade.
Then, he bent his knees slightly, leaned his body forward, and assumed a standard, tension-filled Iaijutsu (sword-drawing) stance.
In the blink of an eye, the purple aura surged once again, swirling and enveloping the Sandai Kitetsu's hilt.
The same eerie energy flooded back into his pupils like a tide, making them glow with a faint, demonic light.
At that moment, he resembled an Asura emerging from hell, a being of pure, focused killing intent.
In an instant, a powerful force erupted from within Lancelot.
He kicked off the ground with both feet, his Soru technique shooting him forward like an arrow released from its bow.
His speed was astonishing—like a bolt of lightning streaking across the sky—and in the blink of an eye, he had closed the distance on Jinbe.
Facing Lancelot's fierce, all-or-nothing assault, Jinbe showed no fear.
With a loud, resonating shout, he tightened the muscles in his right arm, imbued it with Haki, and threw a punch as massive as a clay pot, carrying overwhelming, immovable force straight toward Lancelot's oncoming charge.
However, at the critical moment when the two were about to clash head-on, Lancelot's figure suddenly flickered and vanished without a trace, like a ghost.
Just as Jinbe was stunned by this... an identical Lancelot appeared inexplicably to his left.
Before Jinbe could react, another figure flashed to his right—also Lancelot.
Then, behind him... above him… Lancelot's figures flickered into view from all directions.
In an instant, nine identical Lancelots had surrounded Jinbe, each one in the same Iaijutsu stance.
Yes, a full nine identical Lancelots encircled the Warlord.
Among these nine, only one was the true body, while the other eight were terrifyingly solid-looking illusions, formed from sharp, demonic Sword Intent.
Yet these illusions were so lifelike that even their movements, their aura, and the cold glint in their eyes were indistinguishable from the original, making it nearly impossible to tell real from false.
Witnessing such a bizarre, high-level sword technique, Jinbe was inwardly startled. But, having experienced countless, insane battles on the Grand Line, he quickly regained his composure.
He stared intently at the nine Lancelots surrounding him, his Observation Haki spreading out, attempting to find a flaw, a single discrepancy, among them.
"Interesting..." Jinbe couldn't help but voice his admiration.
But before the sound even faded, he suddenly felt an intense sense of crisis rushing toward him... from all nine directions at once.
In that single, compressed instant, Jinbe had no time to think or differentiate.
He immediately unleashed one of his ultimate techniques.
"Fish-Man Karate: Buraikan (Brick Fist)!" He planted his feet firmly, clenched both fists tightly at his sides, and then threw an incredibly powerful, straight punch forward at the air itself.
As the punch landed, an invisible, devastating shockwave erupted from Jinbe's fist and spread out in all directions, forming a perfect, 360-degree protective barrier with no blind spots.
This Brick Fist technique was one of the secret arts of Fish-Man Karate.
Not only could it be used to attack enemies at a distance, but it also served as a powerful, absolute defensive measure.
Once activated, any attack from any direction would be blocked or repelled by this Haki-infused shockwave, making it an excellent move that combined offense and defense.
Boom...
With a loud, concussive crash, all nine Lancelots were sent flying backward like cannonballs.
The immense force tore through the air, creating a visible shockwave.
Eight of his illusionary clones instantly dissipated into thin air, leaving only his true form exposed, hurtling backward.
Lancelot tumbled rapidly through the air, but astonishingly, he adjusted his posture mid-flight with the agility of a gymnast and, using Geppo, landed steadily on the ground fifty meters away.
After regaining his footing, he looked up at Jinbe once more, his eyes now filled with unconcealed astonishment.
After all, if that force had been merely an ordinary shockwave, not only would it have failed to repel his Asura illusion, but with his own Haki-infused strength and swordsmanship, he could have easily sliced through it.
Yet, the reality was entirely different.
That single punch had contained a power that was both internal and external...
After a brief moment of contemplation, Lancelot finally spoke up, a new understanding in his voice.
"Could this be the external release of Armament Haki? Ryou?"
Hearing this, Jinbe nodded slightly, a faint, impressed smile appearing on his face.
"Haha, that's right. It's the technique of externally releasing Armament Haki. Young people these days... all of you are exceptionally talented and overwhelmingly powerful. If I, an old man, don't master a few more formidable techniques, I'm afraid I won't be able to handle rising stars like you!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Jinbe gave Lancelot one last, deep look and then said calmly.
"Let's end it here for today. Through our earlier exchange, I've roughly gauged your strength. And this... is more than enough to give them a satisfactory explanation."
With that, Jinbe turned and walked away, his figure gradually receding until he disappeared into the ocean.
Lancelot stood quietly in place, watching Jinbe depart.
Only after the Warlord had completely vanished did he turn and head back toward his ship.
At the same time, he felt a strange, warm current flowing through his body.
The internal injuries he had sustained, the dull ache in his chest from Jinbe's attack and the bone-jarring slam of the shoulder throw, were already healing at an astonishing, visible rate.
At this moment, Lancelot couldn't help but marvel.
'The regenerative ability of this Whale Shark bloodline... is truly extraordinary!'
Just moments ago, although only minor injuries were sustained, such wounds were still... wounds.
They barely had any effect on a person's combat ability, but normally speaking, even such small internal bruises would take several days of rest to fully heal.
It's like accidentally cutting a small patch of skin on our hands—even if the wound isn't large, it still takes a few days to completely heal.
However, what was unbelievable was that it hadn't been long at all!
The originally injured area had already perfectly restored to its initial state, as if it had never been injured.
Experiencing this miraculous phenomenon, it's not hard to understand why those with Zoan abilities—or in his case, a powerful Zoan-like bloodline—were all as resilient as cockroaches.
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