In the East Blue, there were only a handful of swordsmen who could truly be called masters.
And among them, the Three-Sword Style user, the "Pirate Hunter" Roronoa Zoro, was undoubtedly the most famous rising star of the past two years. In his short time at sea, no fewer than five pirates with bounties exceeding ten million Berris had fallen to his blades.
Who was this old man?
Did he really think he had the qualifications to teach Roronoa Zoro swordsmanship? Did he actually think he was Dracule Mihawk?
"Little guy, what do you think?" Rowan ignored the heckling from the crowd, still looking at Zoro with a beaming, genial smile.
"Hurry up and agree! Roronoa Zoro, this is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity!" Tashigi's face was filled with anxiety. She looked as though she wanted to rush over and accept the offer on Zoro's behalf. Others might not know Mr. Rowan's strength, but she knew it perfectly well. This was a super-grandmaster who could slice a fleet of fifty ships with a single swing!
After hesitating for a long moment, Zoro finally sighed and shook his head. "Old gentleman, as for teaching swordsmanship... let's forget it. But I'll pay for your meal in a moment."
Whether the man taught him or not didn't matter. Just seeing Tashigi's face—a face he couldn't refuse—was enough to make him help the old man. They looked simply too much alike.
"Are you sure you don't need it?" Rowan asked again, setting down his pipe.
Zoro shook his head and called out to the tavern owner, "Boss, put this old gentleman's bill on my tab."
Even though Rowan's table looked expensive, to the current Zoro, who had just secured a nine-million-Berri head, it was a drop in the bucket.
Rowan didn't press the issue. He simply gave Zoro a small smile, turned around, and strolled back to his own table. After all, why say no to a free meal?
Hooo—!
With a resonant, ear-splitting horn blast, the busy people at the harbor watched as two heavily loaded warships slowly entered the docks.
"That looks like Colonel Smoker!" "Are those people on the warships all pirates?" "Good heavens, where did Colonel Smoker round up so many captives?" "Truly worthy of Colonel Smoker."
Seeing the two warships packed to the gills, the crowd at the pier marveled.
"Men, get these guys into the base dungeons first. Fleet Admiral Sengoku will be sending someone to take them over soon!" Smoker shouted as he leaped onto the pier.
Finally, they were back safe and sound. To be honest, while these pirates' individual strength wasn't much, the sheer number was terrifying. Over three thousand seven hundred people—if they had rioted, he wasn't sure he could have suppressed them. Fortunately, they had remained perfectly submissive and cooperative.
Smoker took several deep drags of his cigar, and his furrowed brow finally relaxed. Looking at the third warship docked at a different pier, he felt a lingering sense of awe. What kind of scene had taken place on that deserted island to make these vicious cutthroats stay so well-behaved? Not a single person had even tried to escape.
And Mr. Rowan... he didn't act like a hundred-year-old man. He looked and moved like a man in his fifties. Did the old man have some secret method for staying young? But then Smoker remembered Vice Admiral Garp, who was in his seventies and still possessed monstrous power, and his confusion settled. If Rowan was an ordinary person, he wouldn't have been a legendary Godfather.
He's my Grand-Master, after all!
"Move it, men! Once we've processed these pirates, tonight's dinner is on me!" Smoker roared.
At his words, the exhausted Marines suddenly found their second wind. Under their orderly direction, the speed of the prisoners disembarking increased. Thus, without even being handcuffed or shackled, the pirates lined up obediently and marched into the Marine base gates under the watch of less than three hundred sailors.
The citizens of Loguetown watched in awe, praising Smoker as their guardian deity. As long as Lord Smoker was there, they felt safe from any pirate threat.
As the last prisoner stepped off the ship, Smoker finally relaxed and exhaled a thick cloud of smoke. But in the next heartbeat, his body froze. His gaze locked onto the distant sea.
In Smoker's field of vision, a tiny raft, barely large enough for one person, was approaching Loguetown at a steady, calm pace. A middle-aged man sat cross-legged on a small bamboo chair in the center of the raft, his expression indifferent.
He had short black hair and wore a black wide-brimmed hat adorned with a white plume. Over a wine-red patterned shirt, he wore a long black trench coat, with a golden cross hanging at his chest. The massive black blade strapped to his back identified his identity instantly.
As the people on the pier caught a glimpse of his hawk-like, piercing yellow eyes, a bone-chilling fear surged from their hearts. Even Smoker felt his breath hitch.
As the small raft drew near, a freezing Sword Intent swept over the docks, causing everyone to instinctively back away and clear a path.
"That guy..." "Those hawk eyes... that giant black blade... there's no mistaking it..." "One of the Seven Warlords of the Sea..." "The World's Greatest Swordsman! Dracule Mihawk!"
"Why is he here?"
Stepping onto the pier, Mihawk raised his gaze and swept it across Loguetown, his brow furrowing slightly. Ever since sensing that monumental Sword Intent, he had raced toward the East Blue without stopping. He had even used his status as a Warlord to requisition a Marine vessel to speed up his journey.
But even after arriving in the East Blue, would he find the owner of that blade?
At his level of swordsmanship, there were very few people left who could ignite his passion. Red-Haired Shanks was one, but since Shanks lost his arm in this sea, Mihawk had lost interest in dueling him.
Yet, not long ago, he had felt a Sword Intent of incredible purity and power originating from this region. That was why he had set foot here. He wanted a heart-racing duel with the owner of that blade!
Mihawk knew with absolute certainty that the person responsible for that strike possessed a level of swordsmanship that did not fall short of his own by even a hair.
That person was worth his full strength!
Thinking of that aura, Mihawk felt an intense, overwhelming battle intent rise within him.
That man is right here in the East Blue!
-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
⭐ Read chapters early on Patreon → https://www.patreon.com/Bagga_10 ⭐
BONUS CHAPTER REWARDS
• Every 20 reviews = 1 bonus chapter
• Every 50 Power Stones = 1 bonus chapter
Your support directly unlocks more content and faster releases.