Chapter Fourteen: The Arrival of Whitebeard

Qingsi gazed intently at the distant sea, where a shroud of white mist rose and veiled the horizon, obscuring any clear view of what lay ahead.

Some time passed.

Qingsi’s eyes narrowed; within the haze, enormous shapes flickered in and out of sight. He exhaled softly and said, “They’re here.”

Izuna Mizuno followed Qingsi’s gaze.

Moments later, pirate ships began to appear on the sea, their numbers so vast as to inspire awe and dread. As expected of one of the Four Emperors—the world’s strongest man.

A broadcast rang out: there were forty-three ships in all; every division commander of the Whitebeard Pirates had assembled, not a single one missing.

Yet, among them, Whitebeard himself was nowhere to be seen. Just as everyone was puzzling over his absence, a bubble surfaced in Crescent Bay’s inner waters. More and more bubbles followed, spiraling into a small vortex.

Then, to the astonishment of all, a colossal ship sheathed in a rainbow-hued membrane rose from beneath the waves!

The ship burst from the water, landed upon the sea, and quickly steadied itself, the spray falling like a brief rain.

Three more gigantic vessels surfaced in its wake; the captains of the Whitebeard Pirates had all arrived.

It was the coating from the Sabaody Archipelago, allowing ships to traverse underwater—though fraught with peril, for if the coating ruptured, all would be lost to the sea.

That the Whitebeard Pirates had come to Marineford by such means was beyond anyone’s expectation, drawing genuine admiration.

Clang... clang... clang...

With each heavy, resounding note, Whitebeard emerged into view, brandishing his great naginata, Murakumogiri.

He gazed straight ahead, letting out a deep, unhurried laugh, then addressed Sengoku: “Sengoku, it’s been decades since we last met, hasn’t it?”

“How is my son? Gu ra ra ra ra...”

He looked up at Ace, who stood on the execution platform. “Ace, my son, I’ll come to save you soon.”

Seeing Whitebeard and the others arrive, Ace immediately leaned forward, eyes brimming with tears, and shouted, “Father!”

He did not wish for Whitebeard to come for him, unwilling for his “family” to make sacrifices on his behalf. Though he knew the Whitebeard Pirates were formidable, the Navy was well-prepared; for his sake, many would surely fall.

He did not think it was worth the cost.

Whitebeard drove Murakumogiri into the deck.

He then crossed two forearms, each as thick as Qingsi’s waist, over his chest. Veins bulged as his strange laughter echoed. His arms moved apart, and the air itself split, fractures spreading like shattered glass.

A bizarre sound rang out; the entire sea began to churn, the ground trembling beneath their feet.

On either side of Marineford, the sea rose up, forming two colossal waves—tsunamis that blotted out the sky and bore down upon the city.

Izuna Mizuno stared at the tidal waves in awe. “A tsunami! What kind of power is this?”

Tano cried out in shock, “No wonder he’s the world’s strongest man—is this the power of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit?”

Qingsi, immersed in the scene, felt an entirely different dread from what he’d known as an anime viewer. At last, he understood the terror that seized those young marines back then.

If those two waves crashed down, Marineford would be swallowed by the sea.

Qingsi watched Whitebeard and murmured, “Mirror—Ability Copy.”

“So, it can’t be done?” Qingsi’s brow furrowed. He could not copy the power of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit.

On the contrary, Whitebeard’s eyes turned toward him, a faint smile curling at his lips. “Seems I’ve found a remarkable little brat.”

Just then, Aokiji, one of the Navy’s three admirals, vanished from his seat. He reappeared high in the air, each hand launching a beam of icy blue light toward the sea. At the moment of contact, an overwhelming chill surged forth.

“Ice Age!”

From the point the beams met the waves, the sea froze instantly, ice spreading rapidly in every direction. In just a few breaths, the tidal waves were locked in ice.

Whitebeard looked up at Aokiji and laughed. “Not bad, Aokiji.”

He raised his right hand and swung it, shattering the air once more.

Aokiji’s eyes narrowed, his body dissolving into elements. Part of his head was sheared away, the remaining ice tumbling to the sea and, upon impact, reforming into Aokiji’s shape.

He unleashed his power again, freezing the entire sea, pinning the Whitebeard Pirates’ ships in place, unable to move.

At the same time, he created a battlefield for the coming clash.

The marines, shaken moments before by Whitebeard’s overwhelming might and gripped with the urge to retreat, now began to come to their senses.

One young marine, still pale with fear, stammered, “We have the admirals with us—there’s no reason we can’t defeat the Whitebeard Pirates. Don’t be afraid!”

Another echoed the sentiment, “That’s right, Whitebeard is old now. There’s no need to fear him!”

Qingsi smiled faintly at their words, then looked once more at Aokiji, murmuring, “Mirror—Ability Copy.”

A sharp pain stabbed through Qingsi’s mind. “So it really is tied to Haki. I can only copy the abilities of those whose Haki is weaker than mine.”

“In that case, mastering Haki must be my priority.”

Aokiji also glanced back at Qingsi, frowning with a hint of suspicion, but did not linger.

Qingsi felt a bit awkward. Could they all sense his attempts?

On the Whitebeard Pirates’ ships, the crew, seeing the ice spread and their ships immobilized, could no longer restrain themselves. They leapt from their vessels and charged toward the navy stronghold.

Suddenly, an overwhelming sword aura surged forth, a verdant slash sweeping across heaven and earth, turning the very world pale. Before the pirates had run far, the sword energy had split many in two.

Some, luckier or more cautious, could only watch as their comrades fell before them, powerless to intervene.

A burly figure rushed forward, gritting his teeth as he bore the brunt of that sword slash. After a long, desperate struggle, he let out a furious roar and hurled the energy upward, sending it soaring into the sky where it finally dissipated.

A deep chasm cleaved the surface of the ice.

As the mist receded at the end of the rift, the figure gradually emerged—his body gleaming like diamond, having withstood the blow through sheer resilience, protecting the ship behind him where Whitebeard stood.

“It’s the Third Division Commander! Diamond Jozu!”

Someone recognized the man and couldn’t help but call out.

“He actually blocked the world’s strongest slash! Incredible.”

The swordsman, too, was slightly surprised. He gazed at Diamond Jozu in the distance, his hawk-like amber eyes enough to unsettle the bravest souls.

It was none other than the world’s greatest swordsman, Dracule Mihawk.