After that terrifying clash, Whitebeard and Garp both retreated to their respective ships.
"Hahaha! Newgate, you're still pretty damn solid for an old man!"
Garp stood on the dog-head warship, arms crossed, laughing heartily toward Whitebeard.
"I'm not even seventy yet, Garp!"
"You're the old man here."
Whitebeard shot him a sideways glance, gripping Murakumogiri tightly.
Despite his scar-riddled body and the IV drip he had once constantly needed, in truth—
Whitebeard was four years younger than Garp.
Sengoku was even older than Garp.
Whitebeard was the youngest of the three—yet ironically, his body was in the worst shape.
The reason?
The Marines had a fully developed medical system.
After every major battle, injuries were well-treated and healed properly—
no hidden damage remained in their bodies.
But Whitebeard?
He was a pirate.
He had no logistics, no proper medical backup.
After every battle, he relied purely on Marco's healing ability and his own endurance.
Over time, the accumulated hidden injuries worsened.
His body deteriorated more and more.
"Hahaha! That so? I guess I really am a bit older than you."
Garp scratched the back of his head with a laugh.
"But your body doesn't look much different than it did a few years ago."
"Seems like you've been taking care of yourself lately."
He eyed Whitebeard up and down as he spoke.
In truth, Garp was extremely surprised.
The Marines' intelligence division had been monitoring Whitebeard closely.
They had stacks of intel over a meter high.
Garp was well aware that Whitebeard had long relied on IV drips.
Yet now, face-to-face, he could see no signs of medical equipment— and Whitebeard's strength… was still as terrifying as ever.
No wonder he managed to reclaim territory seized by the Beasts Pirates.
"I heard you're planning to ally with that brat, Sanders?"
"What, did that old man finally beat you into submission?"
Garp continued, narrowing his eyes.
He hadn't forgotten the reason he was here.
Sengoku was clearly afraid of a three-way pirate alliance forming.
So he figured—might as well ask directly.
He didn't think Whitebeard would lie, even if he was a crafty old pirate.
"Gurararara..."
Whitebeard chuckled deeply, his massive form looming over the rail.
"I'm Whitebeard, dammit—how could I possibly ally with someone else?"
Whitebeard waved at Vista, took the wine jug from him, downed a swig, then tossed the jug to Garp.
Garp caught it, gulped a large mouthful, then tossed the jug back.
"That's what I figured," he said, wiping his mouth and nodding.
"But Sengoku wasn't so sure—so I had to come in person."
"Gurararara! Sengoku must be sweating bullets by now."
Whitebeard scoffed.
"Hahaha! I didn't see him sweating,"
"but he's got a lot more white hair lately."
"He dyes it black every day, but really, his hair's been white for a while. I have no idea what he's thinking."
Garp laughed as he poked fun at his old friend.
"Should you really be saying that out loud, Vice Admiral Garp?"
On deck, Bogart's face twitched.
The Marines behind him looked up at the sky, pretending they hadn't heard anything.
"Gurararara!"
Whitebeard burst out laughing, imagining Sengoku sighing while staring at his newly grown white hair.
"Looks like Sanders has been giving Sengoku a real headache."
"The Marines lost someone who could've kept the seas in check for decades and gained a powerful enemy instead."
"I really wonder… when all of us old-timers are finally gone..."
"What the hell is the Marines gonna do?"
Whitebeard grinned wickedly as he looked at Garp, clearly gloating.
Garp's expression stiffened, his smile freezing for a second.
Sanders' defection was a massive blow to the entire Marine organization.
The Marines had lost a top-tier talent—barely in his twenties.
Someone with the potential to lead the entire organization within two decades.
And now?
They had nothing.
The Marines's current strength rested on the three Admirals—but among the younger generation, no one was ready to step up.
Only Sanders had shown that potential—and thanks to some damn internal rot,
they had completely lost him.
Garp didn't say any of that aloud, of course.
Instead, he put his usual grin back on and confidently declared:
"We're the Marines, Whitebeard!"
"Every year, countless people with justice in their hearts join our ranks."
"The young Marines will carry that justice—and go on to punish the evil across these seas."
"Us old men just need to give them a bit of time to grow."
"Is that so?"
Whitebeard smiled faintly, not quite agreeing.
He knew better than anyone just how filthy the World Government was.
In some ways, even worse than pirates.
But still…
They were the ones labeled as "justice."
And when it came to recruitment, the Marines undeniably had the upper hand.
Countless people whose homes were destroyed by pirates would carry that hatred with them
joining the Marines and becoming its strength.
"Since you have no plans to ally with Sanders,"
"I'll take my leave then."
Garp stretched lazily as he spoke.
"I still have to go find that unruly grandson of mine who keeps running off—and give the other one at home a good lesson too."
"You have grandsons?!"
Whitebeard looked shocked.
"And two of them?!"
"What's with that reaction?!"
"I have a son—why wouldn't I have grandsons?!"
Garp grumbled unhappily.
At the mention of his grandsons, a glint of pride flashed in Garp's eyes.
"Almost forgot my grandson will become an outstanding Marine."
"In the future, he won't be any worse than Sanders!"
Even now, Garp still clung to his dream of seeing his grandson become a proud Marine.
Even though one of them had already raised the pirate flag and become a pirate himself
And from what Garp had heard…
he seemed to be doing pretty well lately.
"I'm off."
Garp waved farewell, then ordered the military ship to turn around, ready to leave these waters.
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