"It's Mr. Rowan!"
"Mr. Rowan blocked that guy's attack!"
Upon seeing the face of that figure clearly, numerous Marines gasped in shock, their voices trembling. It was simply too staggering to witness—how, at the final second, the old man had intercepted Whitebeard Jr.'s earth-shattering strike with crushing authority, saving Master Zephyr from certain death.
"Mr. Rowan..."
Binz stared blankly, murmuring to himself, having forgotten even to breathe. Ain, turning back toward the scene, finally couldn't help but burst into loud sobs. They were tears of joy for a life snatched back from the brink.
In the center of the battlefield, after forcing Whitebeard Jr. back, the aura surrounding Rowan showed no sign of receding. His sword presence remained vast and majestic. Zephyr, who had already accepted his fate, looked up in a daze at the towering silhouette before him.
After a brief moment of shock, clarity returned to Zephyr's mind. A look of profound amazement quickly spread across his weathered face. Sensing Zephyr's gaze behind him, Rowan turned his head, offering a signature smile.
"Kid," he said softly, "I don't recall ever teaching you that it's okay to give up a fight just because you can't win."
Hearing that scolding—which didn't really sound like a scolding at all—Zephyr couldn't stop the tears from flowing down his face.
"Master Rowan, I'm sorry... your student is incompetent. I've disgraced you, being no match for a fellow like this..." Zephyr's lips trembled as he spoke.
While his heart was filled with emotion, what stunned Zephyr even more was the colossal sword pressure and terrifying intent radiating from the Old Man. In his memory, Master Rowan had never even used a blade. How had he suddenly transformed into a Grandmaster capable of such immense sword presence?
"That's enough, you brat. No more of that talk."
Rowan let out a light chuckle, cutting off Zephyr's self-reproach. He moved with casual grace to stand in front of him, shielding the heavily wounded Zephyr behind his back. His calm gaze fixed on Whitebeard Jr.
"Zephyr-boy, after this battle, I trust you understand where your weaknesses lie. Leave the rest to the Old Man."
At this, Rowan's voice rose, ringing out clearly. "Ain! Come and help your teacher away!"
"Yes! Mr. Rowan!" Wiping the tears from her eyes, Ain nodded vigorously and rushed over to support Zephyr.
"But, Master Rowan, you..." Zephyr started, worry etched on his face. He had personally experienced Whitebeard Jr.'s horrific raw strength. Could his teacher really face that monster alone?
"Kid, when has the Old Man ever done something he wasn't sure of?"
Rowan's only answer was a steadfast back and a rhetorical question that radiated absolute security. As he spoke, he flicked the simple longsword in his hand, and the blade erupted with a brilliant, shimmering light.
His already majestic sword aura surged once more. His clothes billowed despite the lack of wind, and an icy, piercing chill radiated from his body. Looking at the wary Whitebeard Jr., he laughed heartily. "Next, it's the Old Man's turn!"
With that, Rowan took a steady step forward, walking toward Whitebeard Jr. with measured, deliberate strides.
"A Marine?! You... just who the hell are you?!" Whitebeard Jr. demanded, his eyes wide with anger as he watched Rowan approach. No matter how hard he thought, he couldn't remember ever seeing this old man before. A Marine? Why was it always the Marines?!
"Son, don't be afraid of this old fossil! He's the mastermind who's been stopping you from finding your father! All these years you haven't been able to see Papa Whitebeard because this old man has been pulling the strings!"
"Quick! Go kill that old man!"
"If you kill him, you'll finally be able to see your father!"
Miss Bakkin's shrill voice shrieked from behind Weevil, her tone explosive with rage. As a former member of the Rocks Pirates, she naturally recognized Rowan—the legendary "Godfather of the Marines."
However, she also knew that while the old man's reputation was vast, his personal combat power was merely average. His true talent lay in training legends like Sengoku and Garp. Therefore, even seeing Rowan display such incredible sword intent, Miss Bakkin felt no fear.
Her simple-minded son possessed the terrifying raw strength of a young Whitebeard. If used correctly, his combat power was no lower than that of a Marine Admiral. That level of monstrous strength was no joke.
"What? Mama, this old man is the one keeping me from Papa?!" Hearing Miss Bakkin's sharp lie, Whitebeard Jr. let out a furious roar. A look of extreme, primitive brutality gradually surfaced on his face.
"In that case... drop dead!"
With a thunderous bellow, Weevil raised his naginata and charged recklessly at Rowan. The blade carried the weight of ten thousand tons as it swung down toward Rowan's head!
Whoever dared to stop him from finding his father was his greatest enemy! This time, the naginata swung with such force it created a sonic boom. As the blade descended, Weevil's arms and the weapon itself turned a deep, obsidian black.
Armament Haki: Hardening!
"Truly worthy of one possessing Whitebeard's youthful strength. To create such pressure through raw power alone..."
Facing the terrifying slash, Rowan didn't blink. He felt a touch of genuine curiosity. He knew well that while Edward Weevil bore the title of Whitebeard Jr., he wasn't Whitebeard's son. He was merely a failed clone created by Miss Bakkin—or rather, Buckingham Stussy—using Whitebeard's DNA.
Yet, for a "failure," he had inherited Whitebeard's horrific physical power. Rowan was actually quite curious about what Stussy, Vegapunk, and the others had researched back then. But because he was a failed clone, Weevil's attacks, though ferocious, lacked any semblance of technique. This terrifying momentum was generated purely by his massive physique.
"Since you enjoy using raw strength, the Old Man will accompany you."
The corner of Rowan's mouth curled. "Zoro, watch closely. This strike of the Old Man's is called... 'The Overlord's Blade'!"
With a violent snap of his wrist, Rowan's sword aura exploded. His chilling intent reached its absolute zenith. The aura surged toward the heavens; the white clouds drifting above the island were instantly shredded into nothingness, devoured by the sheer pressure of his blade.
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