The Great Plaza of Fish-Man Island was the central hub where all regions of the island converged.
Whether in terms of commercial prosperity or population density, it was the largest area on Fish-Man Island.
But now, the streets had been completely cleared.
No one had forcibly driven the people away—they had all chosen to flee this place of chaos on their own.
Except for the shopkeepers whose livelihoods were tied here.
Trembling in fear, they continued doing business with a group of pirates.
The pirates, accustomed to such reactions, paid no mind.
After settling their transactions, they temporarily stacked their supplies in the back.
At the center of the plaza, a man with a crescent-shaped white mustache sat drinking from an enormous sake dish.
His towering stature might even lead one to mistake him for a half-giant…
But in truth, he was a pure-blooded human—just an exceptionally large variant.
[Was it possible that whitebeard is a bucanner?]
A similar case was "Big Mom" Charlotte Linlin.
This… was the "Strongest Man in the World."
This… was "Whitebeard" Edward Newgate.
Standing beside him were his most beloved sons, the commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates, pouring drinks for their father.
Unlike the sickly old man covered in IV needles from the original story, the current Whitebeard could even be described as being in the prime of his life.
Whether it was strength, experience, or Devil Fruit mastery, he was at the peak of perfection.
Even if the legendary Roger were resurrected in his prime, he might not be a match for this version of Whitebeard.
At this moment, Whitebeard was clearly in an excellent mood, even grinning as he looked at the nearby Marines whose eyes held a trace of fear, yet whose bodies had instinctively taken fighting stances.
"Gurararara! You Marines might not be that strong, but I like your attitude. Truly soldiers worthy of that old bastard Garp... Why don't you just become my sons instead?"
"Uh... no thanks," replied Atama, the same communications officer who had just called Michael on the Den Den Mushi.
"I have both a real father and a real mother... Don't any of you have parents?"
His words instantly silenced the entire plaza.
True damage—the most fucking real kind of damage.
Even Whitebeard's gaze toward Atama turned slightly cold.
Though the expression on Atama's face...
Was just too damn clueless.
It was so obvious that he wasn't being sarcastic but genuinely asking.
"You... you're not bad, kid." Whitebeard, feeling somewhat awkward, simply picked up his already filled sake dish and downed it in one go.
"Time's running out for you. If that young marine and Garp don't show up, why not join the Whitebeard Pirates and become my sons?"
"Rear Admiral Michael and Vice Admiral Garp will definitely come!"
"So the little guy's name is Michael... and a rear admiral at that?" A smile finally reappeared on Whitebeard's face. "To be honest, if it's just Garp alone, I'm not afraid at all. I'm not the same Whitebeard from the God Valley! Tell you what—if the Rear admiral you speak of dares to come before me and face me head-on, I'll let you go, and I won't even hold it against you for hurting my sons!"
This statement made the surrounding division commanders burst into laughter.
Pops sure loves making bets.
They could tell—Pops genuinely liked these naive young marines.
Despite the fear in their eyes, they still met Pops' gaze firmly!
Not just Pops, even they hadn't seen such gutsy guys in a long time.
As for the "Rear admiral" they spoke of...
Unfortunately, in their eyes, most marine officers were nothing but fame-seeking frauds.
Even with Garp backing him, it was doubtful he'd dare to come before Pops.
Marco lifted the sake jug again and poured for Whitebeard.
Then he said quietly, "Pops, young men like this are rare."
"You're right." Whitebeard nodded. "But can that young rear admiral live up to his subordinates' courage?"
"Ah, that's tough." Marco replied with a laugh.
Whitebeard raised his sake dish, downed it again, and then laughed heartily!
"Gurararara! Not bad at all! Fish-Man Island's sake really packs a punch!"
"Drink, drink, drink—why don't you just drink yourself to death, you old white-bearded geezer?" A clear, slightly lazy young voice called from the distance.
"If you love adopting sons so much, go find them on the seas! Stop eyeing our marines!"
Whitebeard instantly pinpointed the source of the voice—only to find it coming from...
The sky.
A flicker of surprise crossed Whitebeard's eyes.
He flew here...
He hadn't seen many Devil Fruit Users with flight abilities.
Aside from Marco, who was always fluttering around in front of him, the last one he'd dealt with was Golden Lion, who had escaped Impel Down at the cost of his legs.
Looking up, he saw a young marine with massive, pristine white Wings descending from the sky, the marine's Justice cloak fluttering dramatically in the wind.
And the sword at his waist—aside from its obvious power—somehow gave Whitebeard a strange sense of familiarity.
"Gurararara! Never thought you'd actually dare to come!" Whitebeard didn't hide the admiration in his eyes. "I always believed that after old-timers like Garp and Zephyr, the marines would never produce true legends like them again! But it seems even the marines can't resist the call of the sea when it comes to real men!"
With that, he set down his sake.
At the same time, Garp arrived at the plaza with a squad of Marines from the direction of the Ryugu Palace.
However, he didn't directly engage Whitebeard, appearing more like he was there to back up Michael.
After all, Michael had already discussed with Garp on the way here...
This time, he intended to handle things himself.
Marco glanced at Garp in the distance, then turned his gaze to Michael hovering mid-air.
Bright blue flames ignited across his body as his arms transformed into wings, propelling him into the sky.
Marco, commander of Whitebeard's first division, the renowned "Phoenix."
"So you're the rear admiral who just spoke with Pops?"
Michael didn't answer, merely narrowing his eyes slightly.
"Marco? The Mythical Zoan-type Phoenix?"
Truth be told, his mood was far from pleasant.
How could he tolerate this!?
Not a single bit!
First division commander, huh?
A savage grin suddenly twisted his lips.
"Starlight Blade·Judgement!"
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