At dawn the next day on Hachinosu Island, after finishing the morning sword drills with the crew, Charlotte Linlin walked alone to a broad, gravel-strewn clearing on the edge of Whitebeard's turf.
Charlotte Linlin and Edward Newgate now stood face-to-face. The morning breeze fluttered their coats, and the air was thick with both menace and anticipation.
"Gurarara! Girl, ready? My teaching is brutal!"
Newgate laughed thunderously. As he planted his blade on the ground, his colossal frame exuded crushing pressure; standing still, he looked like an immovable mountain.
Charlotte Linlin inhaled deeply. Dragon scales sheathed her body in an instant, dragon horns curved back, wings unfurled—she shifted straight into her dragonoid form. Purple eyes blazed with fiery battle-lust and a hunger to learn: "Bring it, Newgate! Show me what top-tier Haki looks like!"
"Good! Let's warm up first!"
Before the words finished, Newgate's huge fist was already veiled in deep-black Armament Haki; though he hadn't moved a muscle, white currents visibly swirled over it.
The black fist shot out like a siege hammer—no finesse, just raw speed and power. Air before the fist was crushed into a sharp boom.
Charlotte Linlin didn't dare slight him; Armament cloaked her right arm as she swung to meet it.
BOOM!!!
The fists collided with an ear-splitting roar. A ring of shockwave blasted out, flipping every stone.
A strange force seeped in through her knuckles. Though she held the edge in raw strength, the inner agony made her lose outright; she staggered back a dozen meters before steadying herself, whole arm numb.
Ten meters is a single step to someone like her.
"Feel that?" Newgate didn't pursue, only stood and said,
"Armament isn't just armor on the surface! Make the force flow, let it seep through! Yours is hard enough, but too 'dead'—like a lump of iron!"
"Sense it, guide it, give it life! Flow, internal destruction—that's the higher Armament: the essence of 'Flowing Sakura'!"
Understanding dawned; she rushed again, this time tuning her Haki's flow in the instant of clash instead of meeting force with force.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
With every collision she felt the layered, tide-like force piercing her body, and she fought to mimic and counter it.
"Wrong angle—again!"
"Too slow! Is your Observation for show? Read and predict my flow!"
While battering her with fists wrapped in advanced Armament, Newgate roared the key points like thunder.
His strikes shifted between overwhelming and tricky, forcing her to push Observation to the limit just to keep up, all while trying to grasp Armament flow.
It was torment—and incredibly efficient tempering.
Her monstrous physique and Mythical Zoan recovery let her survive the "violent lesson" of a top-tier teacher.
Scattered insights and self-taught tricks were being corrected, merged, elevated.
Her Observation range widened, perception sharpening until she could faintly foresee his next move and the faint trail of his Haki.
Her Armament was no longer rigid; faint flow appeared. Still far from his internal-break level, but every exchange deepened her grasp and flexibility.
"Gurarara! Not bad—shaping up!" Approval flashed in Newgate's eyes. "Next, try this!"
He stepped back; the huge naginata Murakumogiri was in his hand, the blade instantly coated in jet-black Armament.
Whoosh!
Not full strength, yet a condensed, sea-splitting slash screamed forth.
Her pupils shrank at the lethal threat. Instinct yelled to block with her nodachi "Mu," but she recalled his lesson on flow.
She clenched her teeth, pouring Armament into her left dragon-claw, not just hardening but spinning it at high speed.
Shh—!
The focused slash slammed her left arm with a grating screech. The ground exploded; she slid back, sleeve shredded, yet the blow was stopped.
"Hmm?" Newgate was surprised. "Improvised mimicry? Rough, but the direction's right—good comprehension."
Wait—my slash didn't leave a single wound on her.
As he studied the Armament on her wrist, he realized: not a scratch. He marveled inwardly: What a monster's body!
Shock still echoing in his chest, Newgate lowered Murakumogiri. "All right, you've seen Armament's 'Flowing Sakura.' Next up—Observation!"
The tempo of the fight changed in an instant.
Gone were Newgate's raw, crushing strikes. His silhouette turned elusive, his attacks erratic, laced with feints that came from nowhere.
"Observation isn't for taking hits! You reach out and listen—listen to the hiss of air, the tremor of muscle, the murderous pulse of intent! Seeing the future isn't guessing; it's razor-sharp senses and faster thoughts!"
Charlotte Linlin shut her eyes and released Observation at full force. Awareness flooded outward; every grain of sand snapped into focus.
She began to trace Newgate's shifts a heartbeat early, slipping or blocking the instant before his blows arrived.
Under lethal pressure and exacting guidance, her Observation crept toward true foresight.
At last Newgate stilled, expression grave.
"Last—and hardest—Haoshoku infusion!"
He drew a deep breath. A solid pillar of Conqueror's Haki speared skyward, whipping the clouds—yet the pressure clamped down on Charlotte Linlin alone.
She felt as if mired in tar; every motion dragged, every breath burned. This wasn't mental weight—it was Conqueror's Haki warping reality itself.
"Watch—and feel!"
Newgate roared. No Armament coated his fist; instead black lightning crackled, Conqueror's Haki coalescing and dispersing in endless loops.
He punched the empty air.
BOOM!!
Charlotte Linlin never saw the blow land, yet her chest caved as though a speeding train had struck her head-on. She hurtled backward, slammed into distant rock, and spat blood.
"So… this is Haoshoku infusion…"
She tore free of the crumbling stone, eyes wide. A ranged strike—devastating penetration—turning formless will into solid force.
It shattered everything she thought she knew; she'd believed "Haoshoku infusion" was mere intimidation, not a physical weapon.
What a monster. One infused punch—held back—and all she did was cough blood.
Watching her wipe her mouth and stand as if nothing had happened, Newgate reeled inwardly.
He kept the awe from his voice. "Conqueror's is the mark of kings—will made manifest.
To wrap it, you compress that sovereign spirit to its limit, fuse it with Haki, and force reality to bend. Takes unbreakable belief and flawless control.
I don't know what you faced these past two weeks, but you've found your aim; you're ready to learn. Try gathering your Conqueror's to a point—no more wild bursts."
Charlotte Linlin wiped the blood away, eyes sharpening. Pink Haki flared as she fought to compress it.
First try: the power only rippled, uncontrolled.
Second: a sliver held—then burst apart.
Third, fourth—again and again, tireless, while Newgate pressed her with his own refined will.
Hours flew in fierce training.
Sunset to moonrise—an entire day—explosions, Newgate's barked orders, and Charlotte Linlin's impacts echoed across the clearing.
By full night her clothes hung in tatters despite Armament guarding every inch. Ten days of this and she'd be left in scraps—or nothing at all.
Bare-handed, Newgate was a perfect all-rounder; her hand-to-hand skills couldn't touch him, and most of the day she'd been the punching bag.
Without her Mythical Zoan healing she'd be finished. Even with iron defense his strikes carried penetration and bleed; bones and organs still throbbed.
Yet after that grueling day her violet eyes blazed brighter than ever.
She raised her trembling right fist. A fragile pink spark, like a newborn dragon, coiled around her knuckles—fleeting, but real. She had stepped onto the threshold of infusion.
"Gurararara!" Newgate's laughter rang out.
"One day to brush the edge—brat, you're a monster! And with that body of yours, I can't wait to see what you become! Gurararara!"
That day, Charlotte Linlin gained more than she had ever imagined.