Chapter 169: Garp: If I Had These Fists Back Then, I Could've Killed Roger!
A brand-new pair of gauntlets wrapped tightly around his fists.
These were the Bloodsplit Gauntlets, a level 5 purple-grade weapon Garp had acquired after hunting down a red-clad wraith.
Not only did they boost his raw punching power, their greatest effect was a chance to stun enemies upon impact.
"A purple weapon? Vice Admiral Garp's luck is insane!"
Smoker looked on with undisguised envy.
When evaluating gear or weapons, grade and level were the two most critical metrics. A level 5 purple weapon could already outmatch many of the elite blades forged by famous smiths in the pirate world—and came with bonus effects.
In the hands of an ordinary Marine, such a weapon could elevate their strength in an instant.
Let alone when wielded by a close-combat powerhouse like Garp.
"Old man, you're not the only one with gear."
Dragon showed no fear, revealing his full set of blue armor.
It was a Beginner Wind Elf Set, purchased at high cost from the Game Room. It greatly enhanced his wind-element magic. While not purple-grade, a complete set of blue equipment was in no way inferior to a standalone weapon.
"Damn… the Revolutionary Army's rich enough to buy full sets?"
One of the Marines couldn't help blurting it out.
The shelves of the Game Room weren't static. Each time a player entered, five new Fate Items would be randomly generated for them to choose from.
These options refreshed every seven days.
Fate Items followed a mysterious pattern—appearing based on the player's path and potential.
The old "bright and obvious sale" model was being phased out—it yielded fewer rewards and reduced player motivation to hunt corrupted monsters.
But this new limited-time random inventory system inspired maximum urgency. If players saw a weapon or gear they wanted, they were highly motivated to grind for reward points to get it before it vanished.
Not enough time to save up?
No problem—the Game Merchant had graciously prepared a special tool: the Fate Lock. Each player could lock one item to prevent it from disappearing in the next refresh cycle.
Of course, the lock came with a price. Every use cost reward points.
"A level 5 blue armor set costs 5,000 reward points."
One Marine, who had completed his Contract Quest and unlocked the Game Room, remembered seeing a blue physical-defense armor set priced at 5,000 points.
He had drooled over it but couldn't afford it. His core wasn't strong enough to sign a credit bond, either.
He could only watch helplessly.
Still, he was grateful for the merchant's system—it had allowed him to spend 500 points to lock that set. Now he was frantically hunting corrupted monsters to earn the rest and make the purchase.
Boom!
Dragon's wind-clad claws collided with Garp's fists, sending violent shockwaves through the air.
Even the nearby Marines and slaves could feel their faces sting as the blast winds scraped their skin—just from the aftermath of the clash.
"We're all game avatars. Why are they so strong?"
"With enough reward points, you can unlock real-world abilities. If you're weak in reality, you can just buy gear from the Game Room. What's strange about that?"
"What, so reward points make you better than us?"
"Yes. Yes, they do."
Amid the murmurs, the two were already locked in fierce, repeated exchanges.
As expected of a father-son duo with identical fighting styles—their collisions were nothing but raw, explosive force. The streets around them were already shattered.
Rising Dragon Fist!
Two arcing streams of air swirled around Garp's fists as he crouched low, then launched upward with a punch.
The spiraling uppercut kicked up a storm.
Cracked bricks, shattered walls—even the surrounding Marines instinctively tightened their grips on their guns and braced their legs, trying not to get swept up in the violent gusts.
"There's no energy fluctuation… is this just a pure technique and muscle-based strike?"
Dragon's expression shifted. Wisps of wind-element energy swirled around his legs as he leapt backward.
He couldn't detect even a hint of magical energy.
His old man had generated that destructive shockwave using nothing but technique and raw muscle power.
This punch—he absolutely could not take head-on.
It might actually kill him.
Wind Dragon Wings.
With Garp charging like an unstoppable tank, completely unguarded, Dragon hastily activated his wind magic.
A green magic circle appeared.
A pair of spectral wings covered in emerald scales formed behind him. With a single flap, Dragon vanished from the center of the street and reappeared at the far end in the blink of an eye.
BOOM!
At the last second, Garp twisted mid-air and redirected his rising uppercut downward. The punch slammed into the street with full force.
Even though he missed, the entire street trembled violently.
The Marines couldn't even stay upright—most collapsed to their knees, barely staying balanced by jamming their rifles into the ground.
"The street caved in!"
Everyone turned to look at the deep crater where Garp now stood and couldn't help swallowing hard.
The Island of Death's terrain was several times tougher than the outside world.
Bullets that could pierce walls elsewhere barely left a scratch on the stone here. And yet Garp had just created a massive pit.
If this had happened in the real world, half a town would've been reduced to rubble!
"Geez, old man, are you trying to kill me?!"
Sweat trickled down Dragon's temple.
Good thing he dodged in time. If that blow had connected, he'd already be in resurrection mode.
Sure, he could spend points to cancel the weakened state that followed, but the surrounding Marines—and Garp himself—definitely wouldn't give him that chance. He'd be overwhelmed before he could move.
If he fell, the unrestrained Marines would absolutely swarm and capture every last Revolutionary. This old man was too damn tricky—even at his age, his strength was monstrous.
"Come now! Take my fists of love, or you'll forget all the joyful times we spent together!"
Garp's Iron Fist buff was still active.
The specialized training method from the martial art of Sanda kept pulling raw physical power from within, making it feel like his energy was endless.
It had brought back the youthful fire he hadn't felt in years.
Although the top-tier fighters in this world could remain strong even in old age, no one didn't long for their peak form.
Armament Haki didn't nourish the body.
That's why even the "strongest man in the world," Whitebeard, had been tortured by illness and injury.
But these martial techniques from the Arad Continent—when trained to mastery—could heal internal damage and strengthen bone and muscle to the core.
If he'd had Sanda back then, Roger would've never become Pirate King. Garp would've pounded him straight into Impel Down!
"Most classes from Arad can reach planetary or even cosmic-level energy. It's not even comparable to Haki from the pirate world."
Fang Yi lazily lifted his gaze and glanced at the chaotic battlefield.
He spotted Garp and Dragon's clash instantly.
But whether it was slaves, Marines, or Revolutionaries—he didn't plan to help any of them. Who won this in-game event didn't matter.
His reward point income wouldn't be affected either way.
"Sorry, but I don't exactly look back on those times fondly."
Dragon recalled his bitter childhood, and the fire in his chest ignited.
A pair of massive wind-element dragon claws slammed down toward Garp, still standing at the bottom of the crater.
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