On the sea, the Whitebeard Pirates' members all wore grim expressions, as if facing a great enemy. They kept hauling supplies, cannonballs, and all kinds of materials onto the warships.
The division commanders seemed to think they still weren't fast enough, shouting orders across the decks and constantly urging them on.
Time seemed extremely tight.
Whitebeard, as always, sat boldly on the main seat on the deck of the Moby Dick, lifting a whole barrel of liquor and drinking heavily.
Marco stayed at his side with the nurse as usual, attending to him.
"Marco, you don't need to go on this trip. It's too dangerous," Whitebeard said after taking a swig and letting out a sigh.
"Pops, this is our family's business. As your son, I can't dodge responsibility," Marco refused. "Besides, I also want to see what level those so-called Admirals are at now!"
"A lousy excuse. Have you arranged everything that's staying behind?" Whitebeard understood his temperament and let it go.
After all, if anything truly dangerous happened, with his ability, he could still protect Marco.
"Pops… they're all unwilling to stay behind. They all want to go with you to Marine Headquarters," Marco hesitated before saying it.
"Nonsense! We're going to Marine Headquarters. With their strength, they'd just be going to die! Make them all stay behind!" Whitebeard suddenly sat up straight and barked.
The news that Ace—the Pirate King's son—was going to be publicly executed had also reached Whitebeard.
Because of that, Whitebeard had mobilized the entire pirate crew to rush to Marine Headquarters, trying to rescue Ace.
But now, it seemed every member wanted to do their part, unwilling to stay behind and guard Sphinx Island.
"Gurararara! My sons… you're all the best!"
A strange light flashed through Whitebeard's eyes, as if countless fragments of memory were surfacing before him. Everything from the past—fighting shoulder to shoulder, living together like family—joy, anger, sorrow, and laughter… all surged like a tide, making tears shimmer in his eyes.
Was it all about to come to an end?
But there was nothing to regret.
They'd spent so many years together—he was satisfied. Truly, truly satisfied…
Marco watched from the side. He also knew what Whitebeard was thinking, and couldn't help feeling a wave of sorrow.
As Pops' illness worsened, his days were already numbered. If he kept pushing himself like this…
Marco couldn't hold it in anymore. "Pops, this time just let us go. You—"
"Marco, you've said it three times already. I don't want to hear it again. And as for Ace… it's a major failure on my part as his Pops. I must personally bring him back."
Whitebeard raised a hand, stopping Marco from continuing.
"Yes, Pops."
With things like this, Marco could only shut his mouth and force his emotions down, silently making a decision in his heart:
As long as he still had a single breath left, he would protect Pops—
"Report! Pops, the Navy's forty-nine surveillance warships… have all been sunk!"
At that moment, a returning division commander came back with the report.
The next instant—
"Pops, everything is ready. We can set sail!"
Soon after, Vista sent the signal.
Whitebeard stood up, ripped out the needles from his body, lifted his naginata, and strode to the prow of the Moby Dick. Raising his blade, he shouted so loudly it shook the sea for a hundred miles:
"Brats! Follow your Pops to Marine Headquarters and make a mess of it—bring Ace back home!"
At this moment, hundreds of warships were already lined up on the sea, flags fluttering, every man aboard brimming with murderous intent.
Among the Whitebeard Pirates' forty-three allied pirate crews, the vast majority had already arrived—just waiting for Whitebeard's single command.
So when Whitebeard roared from the prow, they all raised their arms and answered in unison. In an instant, the entire sea was filled with rolling, blood-boiling shouts.
Even many seagulls resting on the masts were startled by the soundwave, flapping into the sky in a hurry.
Above the heavens, the setting sun looked like blood, and night was about to fall…
High above the sky, the Ark Maxim was racing at extreme speed toward the New Marine Headquarters.
Ain, at the helm, looked a little tired, yet she kept glancing toward the cabin from time to time.
Because inside the cabin, an extremely frigid aura was coiling.
Its presence even made the space inside the cabin unstable, as ripples of void waves continuously spread out from nowhere.
Ain knew it was just a tiny trace of sword-intent aura leaking unintentionally from Creed—not even a true sword intent. But even that faint wisp carried such terrifying might that it far exceeded anything she could understand.
Even the crimson named sword she carried on her person was letting out repeated sword cries, warning her of just how dangerous that icy aura was.
Thankfully, that wisp of sword-intent aura never crossed beyond the cabin—not even half a step.
In the far distance, a distinctive landmark island appeared.
Ain was overjoyed and quickly notified Creed inside the cabin.
After receiving her message, Creed stopped his cultivation of the SSSS+ Ice-Erosion Sword Intent and stepped out of the cabin.
Looking at the island in the distance, he also felt a bit emotional.
"Hopefully… we're not too late."
(End of Chapter)
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