"Prepare for war?"
A wave of suffocating pressure swept through the war room.
Every Marine officer present had long since accepted death as part of the job.
But facing a force this overwhelming… it was hard not to feel powerless.
The Whitebeard Pirates alone had pushed Marine HQ to its limits. The entire base had gone on full alert.
And even then, the result had been a pyrrhic victory.
Now, the great pirate powers of the world had suddenly twisted into a single rope.
Two Emperors. Two former Warlords. And a horde of Level 6 escapees—monsters of unmatched brutality and strength.
This pirate empire dwarfed even Whitebeard's crew. In comparison, they were children.
If war truly broke out, Marine HQ wouldn't be aiming for victory.
They'd be fighting just to survive.
One Whitebeard had already left Marineford in ruins.
If they clashed with this pirate empire…
There might be nothing left.
The war room grew oppressively silent.
It felt like an invisible hand was squeezing every heart in the room.
Only now did Vice Admirals like Dalmatian and Momonga understand why Tsuru had stopped Chaton earlier.
Gion, a candidate for Admiral, had gone missing while monitoring the Emperors—inside Totto Land's waters.
Now, Totto Land had unilaterally expanded its territory by 500 nautical miles.
That meant even the G-18 base—the Navy's forward outpost—was now within enemy waters.
They wouldn't even reach the site of Gion's disappearance before being branded invaders.
If they were captured, it would drag Marine HQ into a full-scale war.
A war they might not survive.
The Vice Admirals who had just volunteered to rescue Gion now sat in uneasy silence.
Even Chaton's face had gone pale.
"Fleet Admiral Sengoku…"
"Chaton," Sengoku said solemnly, "we all want to save her. But you know the situation. If you act rashly, you'll put all of Marine HQ at risk."
"Do you still want to go?"
Everyone turned to look at Chaton.
They all wanted to save her.
But now… they understood the cost.
"Hmph. Sengoku, I overestimated you," Warcury sneered. "I thought you had a plan for Kaido and Big Mom. Turns out all you know is retreat."
"But fine. You could always beg us—the Five Elders. If you satisfy us, we might lend you the Science Division."
"Gather your forces, make a show of strength, and maybe then you'll have the guts to act."
"But how long will that take? Ten days? A month? A year?"
"In that time, you'll wear down our patience—and the morale of your own men."
"The great Marine HQ, afraid of a bunch of pirates. What a joke."
His withering words echoed through the chamber, freezing every face.
Sengoku's expression darkened. His hand clenched the table—until it cracked under the pressure.
"Warcury, shut your mouth!" he roared. "I've held my tongue long enough. You're just trying to provoke us into war—to weaken us so you can tighten your grip."
"Don't think we haven't seen through your schemes."
"Heh. You're not wrong," Warcury said coldly. "But tell me—do you really have the guts to fight? To save her?"
"If you do, then send your men to die. Let them be the spark that ignites this war."
"But if they fail, they'll die in vain—and go down in history as the fools who doomed Marine HQ."
"Unless, of course, the great strategist Sengoku has a better plan."
Sengoku froze.
He had no rebuttal.
Rescue meant risking war—and death.
Failure meant disgrace and ruin.
Even Akainu, who had remained silent until now, looked grim.
To fight or not to fight.
To save or not to save.
Either path was a trap.
"Ahem… looks like I came at a bad time. I'll go back to my nap."
The war room doors creaked open.
Luoyu strolled in, gourd in hand.
Sensing the tension—and the glares from certain old men—he turned to leave without a care.
His nonchalance, so out of place, left everyone stunned.
Only Luoyu could remain so detached in the face of a Four Emperors alliance.
But as he turned to go, Ain panicked. She shot Sengoku a look.
Sengoku blinked, then called out:
"Luoyu! Wait! Do you have a plan?"
"A plan?"
Luoyu paused, turned back, and looked at the room full of anxious faces.
"What plan? Just pay me."
"I'll go get her. You get the money ready. That's all there is to it."
His lazy voice echoed down the corridor.
It was the same old Luoyu.
But in that moment, his words struck like lightning.
Everyone stared at him, stunned.
Then they remembered the most important truth:
If the money's right, there's nothing he can't do.
He had said it himself—just pay up.
Did that mean… he could really rescue Gion from the Four Emperors?
Excitement rippled through the room.
Sengoku finally understood Ain's signal.
"Luoyu, I'll pay whatever it takes. But you must come back alive. Don't forget—many see you as a threat."
He glanced at Warcury, whose face had gone dark.
With just one line—"Just pay me"—Luoyu had turned the entire room on its head.
And Warcury realized, too late, that he had underestimated the power of a man who fights for coin.