The coming clash would be unprecedented—there was even a chance it would determine the fate of both New World pirates and the Navy itself.
The victor would see their fortunes soar.
The loser… would be completely driven out of the New World, perhaps even erased from the world stage altogether.
Of course, momentum was firmly on the Navy's side. After all, pirates generally lived by pillaging; the ordinary citizens of the New World were never going to support them.
In the face of such a once-in-an-era decisive battle, small and mid-sized forces no longer had the qualifications to take part. Other than staying as far away as possible, at most they could only cling to one side and become disposable cannon fodder.
Only Emperor-class pirate crews had the right to enter the field and wrestle for influence.
That was why the stance of the three remaining Emperors—Shanks, Whitebeard, and Kaido—was incredibly crucial this time.
If the three of them could all set aside their previous grudges and disagreements and form an alliance with Creed, then the Navy would undoubtedly lose this war.
But things were far from that simple.
This time, it wasn't just a decisive battle between pirates and the World Government…
"We should just sit on the mountain and watch the tigers fight. The Five Elders have already sent me a warning—we'd best not get involved in this matter."
After a very long silence, Shanks finally replied in a calm tone.
It was clear he had already gone through a fierce struggle in his heart.
"Alright… but I don't think that brat Creed is getting through this without help."
Benn Beckman sighed quietly.
As the great disruptor of the New World, Creed had already climbed to the very peak. Beckman's expectations for him naturally went far beyond that.
If Creed could survive this trial and go on to challenge the Five Elders, that would not only be something Beckman wanted to see—it was also what many other great pirates desired.
The Celestial Dragons had ruled this world for eight hundred years. Their lofty arrogance, treating all things as mere dogs and cattle—there were few in the world who did not resent and loathe them.
But whenever Shanks thought of the rumored Imu, he couldn't help but shiver.
That legendary, supreme monster had ruled this world for far too long—so long that people had forgotten his name and existence entirely. All they remembered was the Five Elders, the "leaders" on the surface.
"We'll keep watching for now…"
How could Shanks not know what Beckman was thinking? All he could do was let out a helpless sigh.
On the Moby Dick.
Marco took a sealed intelligence report from the leg of a giant golden-feathered eagle and handed it to Whitebeard, who was drinking.
Whitebeard opened the letter, then burst into hearty laughter.
"Gurararara! That brat Creed, he's really something! If you win this time, then it won't be my Whitebeard's era anymore—it'll be Creed's era!"
At his side, Marco shook his head.
"As long as Pops is here, it'll always be Pops' era."
"Marco, I'm old. I'm not the Whitebeard I used to be. Right—keep your eyes on the situation. If Creed really ends up losing, we might have to step in and help him. I can't just sit back and watch him die in the Navy's siege."
Whitebeard thought about it for a moment, then spoke without much hesitation.
"Pops, you need to think this through. If we make a move, that's the same as standing openly against the World Government!"
Marco was shocked.
He had never seen the World Government mobilize such a monstrous force just to wipe out a single pirate. This kind of muddy water was not something to wade into lightly—one misstep and the Whitebeard Pirates themselves could fall into eternal damnation.
"Maybe it's just that I've gotten old. If this were back in my prime, I'd definitely join forces with Creed and beat this damned World Government coalition until they pissed themselves in terror."
Whitebeard replied calmly. His decision did not change.
At the same time, the image of Ace surfaced in his mind.
If the World Government hadn't reached into the New World so quickly—if Ace had had more time to grow stronger—perhaps he wouldn't have needed to make this choice.
If Creed lost this battle, then the other Emperors would inevitably be next on the chopping block.
No pirate force could stand against the concentrated might of the World Government. In the end, it was basically "surrender or die."
The World Government's goal this time was crystal clear: to unify the New World, completely eradicate the great pirate powers, and bring that sea under direct Navy control.
So Whitebeard's decision to help Creed was, in truth, also to buy time for his own Whitebeard Pirates.
"Right—any word from Ace? That naughty little brat…"
After a while, Whitebeard asked.
Marco's expression shifted, then he answered honestly:
"Ace seems to have thrown away his Den Den Mushi. The last thing he sent back was that he'd found Teach's trail, and told Pops to just wait—he'd be bringing Teach's head back soon."
Whitebeard frowned slightly.
"I've had a bad feeling these past few days. Marco, go find Ace. No matter what it costs, you must track him down and bring him back to me."
That vague unease in his chest had become especially strong over the past two days, finally shattering his usual calm.
He had a faint premonition—if he didn't recall Ace now, he might never see him again.
Marco straightened up.
"Understood! Pops!"
…
In a certain tavern, a young man wearing a cowboy hat with goggles on it, freckles on his cheeks, was wolfing down pizza and booze, a newspaper in hand.
"What? Isn't this Luffy? A 30 million belly bounty? When did he go to sea? As expected of my little brother—his first bounty is higher than mine!"
As he spoke, Ace actually nodded off mid-sentence, snoring away, leaving everyone else in the bar staring at him in disbelief.
On a deserted island, a group of people was just making landfall. Their ship was quite battered, their faces exhausted, and many were wounded.
But their spirits were still relatively high; they didn't show much in the way of dejection or other negative emotions.
At the head of the group stood a burly man in a dark green coat, a square tattoo on his left cheek, no eyebrows, and a naturally fierce expression.
The leader of the Revolutionary Army—Monkey D. Dragon.
Behind him were the surviving high-ranking cadres: the blond Chief of Staff Sabo, Clark, and the East Army commander Belo Betty.
All of them were wrapped in bandages. In some places, fresh blood was still seeping through the cloth.
Just half a month ago, the Revolutionary Army's headquarters had been ambushed by Blood Shadow. Three army commanders and numerous high-ranking cadres were killed on the spot. If Dragon hadn't used his awakened Wind-Wind Fruit to evacuate the surviving soldiers into the sky, the entire Revolutionary Army might well have been annihilated.
He had to admit: Blood Shadow, this so-called "sharpest blade" of the World Government, was terrifyingly strong.
Even now, Dragon and Sabo's group still felt lingering fear when they thought about it.
"We've already shaken off the pursuers behind us. We'll rest here for two days, then head for Totto Land and rendezvous with Creed."
Dragon spoke softly to them, his voice low and hoarse with fatigue.
Only after this battle did he truly realize how terrifying the World Government was.
His revolutionary ideals were advanced, his subordinates were united and loyal, and they had the support of a large portion of the common people—but in the face of absolute power, all of that still seemed unbearably fragile.
If he didn't have the Wind-Wind Fruit…
Dragon felt chills crawl down his spine just thinking about it.
Every comrade in the Revolutionary Army was someone who had fought shoulder to shoulder with him for many years. No matter who died, it pained him deeply. If Sabo and the others had all been killed, Dragon felt he might have broken completely.
"The revolution has not yet succeeded… comrades must continue to struggle."
He sighed inwardly.
Fortunately, Creed had already given a clear answer from his side.
(End of Chapter)
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