Listening to the dialogue between the two, the surrounding crowd was already dumbfounded.
"Hey, hey, did I hear that right? That old man says he'll teach Zoro a single move and let him keep fighting Hawkeye Mihawk?"
"What kind of operation is this? Does he think a bit of guidance will give Zoro the power to stand against Mihawk?"
"Too idealistic. Far too idealistic."
"Don't speak too soon. That old man's aura earlier was absolutely terrifying, okay?"
"Exactly, exactly..."
"You guys talk too much. Can't you just be quiet spectators?"
Even though he had been startled by Rowan's Sword Intent a moment ago, hearing Rowan speak this way made Hawkeye Mihawk chuckle. "Old gentleman, are you implying that with just one move of your guidance, he'll have a hope of defeating me?"
"You could say that," Rowan nodded seriously.
"In that case, I'd like to see exactly what kind of heaven-shaking swordsmanship you're about to teach," Mihawk said, actually sheathing his Black Blade. He crossed his arms over his chest, his voice cold and challenging.
When a person's attainment in swordsmanship reaches a certain level, it naturally breeds a sense of lonely pride—especially for someone like Mihawk, the World's Greatest Swordsman. If it weren't for this pride, he never would have formed that "frenemy" bond with Red-Haired Shanks. It was also because of this that Mihawk recognized Zoro's potential, even feeling inclined to mentor him one day—all for the hope that the kid might reach his height, or even... surpass him.
But now, this old man was speaking to him with such certainty. Claiming that teaching Zoro—who, in Mihawk's eyes, was barely past the entry level—a single strike could infinitely close the distance between them?
Even if Mihawk restricted his power, the gap in the Way of the Sword was not something easily bridged. Was this old gentleman underestimating him, or overestimating himself?
"Little guy, do you have the courage to fight again?" Rowan turned and looked at Zoro.
Zoro hesitated. Though his resolve was firm, he knew his current condition was abysmal. If he accepted, learned a profound technique, and was still crushed instantly, wouldn't he be failing the old man's efforts?
In the crowd, Tashigi was practically vibrating with excitement. You brat, what are you hesitating for?! If you think you can't handle it, let me take your place!
Seeing Zoro's indecision, Rowan's lips quirked. He casually tucked his pipe back into his waistband and reached out his hand into the empty air.
Suddenly, the Wado Ichimonji in Zoro's hand let out a melodious, vibrating hum, as if responding to a call. Then, under the incredulous gazes of the onlookers, it shot out of its scabbard with a sharp zing, turning into a streak of light that flew straight into Rowan's hand.
The moment he gripped the hilt, Rowan's aura shifted violently.
An incredibly sharp and pure Sword Intent erupted from him, expanding outward with a resonant vrummm. The noisy plaza instantly fell into a deathly, pin-drop silence. Everyone stared blankly at the white-haired old man, whose presence had become monolithic. The Sword Intent made them feel like a thousand needles were pressing against their skin; a chill rose from their spines, paralyzing them.
Silence reigned.
"Little guy, I don't just teach anyone. If you're unwilling, then forget it."
Rowan looked at Zoro calmly. The monumental Sword Intent he had released upon drawing the blade had been retracted just as quickly. If he wanted to motivate the boy, a small display of power was necessary.
Standing opposite Rowan, Zoro's face had turned pale the instant that aura hit him. Having wandered the East Blue for years, he had seen many swordsmen, including many at the master level. Being a master himself, he understood exactly how terrifying that bone-chilling intent was. In that single moment, even the Mihawk who had just defeated him hadn't projected such an overwhelming, suffocating pressure.
If Zoro reacted this way, the rest of the crowd fared far worse. They didn't even dare to draw a full breath, terrified that a single wrong move might provoke this grandmaster. Those who had mocked Rowan earlier were now huddling in the corners, praying the old man didn't hold a grudge. They cursed their own big mouths. Who could have guessed this ordinary-looking senior was such a monster?
But the most excited person present was Hawkeye Mihawk. He was now certain. This old man was the target he had come to the East Blue to find. The owner of that terrifying Sword Intent!
I searched the world only to find him right here. Mihawk realized with a jolt that he had actually been questioning this man's legitimacy just minutes ago.
"Brat, still haven't decided?"
Rowan raised an eyebrow at Zoro, who was gradually getting some color back in his face but was still gasping for air. Truthfully, Rowan understood Zoro's inner turmoil. Zoro was like a hardworking gold miner. For years, his tireless efforts had made his pile of gold the largest in the East Blue. Then, the "Godfather of Mining" (Mihawk) showed up and effortlessly proved his gold was still unrefined.
Before he could process that, another old man appeared and casually revealed a mountain of gold that made the others look like pebbles. Zoro simply couldn't digest the scale of it yet. Rowan's display had shattered the boy's understanding of what a swordsman could be.
Furthermore, it wasn't just the intent. Zoro found it unbelievable that Rowan could summon the Wado Ichimonji—a blade he had lived and breathed with for years—with just a reach of his hand. Does swordsmanship at this level allow one to control weapons with the mind?
Even Mihawk's eyes were flashing with disbelief. However, the next scene left both swordsmen truly speechless.
Rowan stopped looking at Zoro and turned his attention to the blade in his hand, offering a word of praise. "Tsk tsk, worthy of the 21 Great Grade Swords. The craftsmanship of the Wado Ichimonji is exquisite—much better than that little scrap-iron sword I picked up."
As he spoke, Rowan raised his left hand and brushed two fingers along the blade.
Zing!
The plain, unadorned steel suddenly became as clear and cold as autumn water, its brilliance surging. In this state, it looked not a single bit inferior to the Supreme Grade Black Blade on Mihawk's back.
How is this possible?! Mihawk's soul shook. He was completely at a loss for words.
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