The faces of everyone witnessing this scene, including the elite Headquarters Vice Admirals, were struck with visible shock. Several swordsmen among the ranks instinctively sat bolt upright in their chairs.
To most, a blade was merely a weapon forged of metal. While many powerful swordsmen viewed their companions as more than just tools, none had ever seen a blade act like Kinpira—leaping from its scabbard like a living creature to fly toward a man.
Even the World's Greatest Swordsman, Hawkeye Mihawk, was not known to possess such a feat! Unless, of course, Kinpira had eaten a Devil Fruit and possessed its own consciousness—but who would know better than Momousagi herself that her blade was "normal"?
However, what happened next nearly caused the eyes of everyone in the conference room to pop out of their sockets.
The moment Rowan gripped the hilt of Kinpira, it was as if a pressurized seal had been punctured. Instantly, a boundless, terrifying sword intent erupted from his body, permeating the entire hall.
Everyone could feel it: in that single heartbeat, Rowan's presence had undergone a cataclysmic transformation. If Rowan had previously looked like an unremarkable old man, he now stood there as a massive, unsheathed greatsword, radiating a chilling edge from every pore.
"Such powerful sword intent!" "Mr. Rowan's mastery of the blade is... monstrous..."
The various Headquarters generals stared wide-eyed at Rowan, whose clothes fluttered despite there being no wind in the room. Their hearts raced uncontrollably. Even the elite Vice Admirals with significant swordsmanship of their own felt their blood boil with excitement and dread.
As swordsmen, they understood the terrifying weight contained within this intent better than anyone. The moment it erupted, it felt as though the stifling conference room had been transported to the summit of an eternal, frozen mountain range. The icy intent bit into their skin like a thousand winter frosts.
Without even needing to see him strike, the Vice Admirals specialized in the blade knew they were absolutely not the Old Man's match. This intent was simply too vast. They couldn't begin to fathom the heights Rowan had reached in the Way of the Sword to be able to manifest such a dense, overwhelming aura.
Naturally, the three Admirals were not unaffected.
"Arara... is this Mr. Rowan's sword intent? Truly terrifying. Even I feel a chill," Aokiji remarked, raising an eyebrow.
"Oh with intent like this, it's no wonder Hawkeye Mihawk would issue a challenge. It's truly scary" Kizaru said in his signature drawl, though his lecherous-looking face showed no real signs of fear.
Akainu kept his eyes narrowed, but the faint steam rising from his body told a different story; he was actively heating his atmosphere to repel the encroachment of Rowan's cold intent.
In contrast to the younger generation, the reactions of Sengoku, Garp, and the others were pure joy.
Garp clutched his stomach and roared with laughter. "Hahahaha! Worthy of Pops! I knew he wasn't that simple!" Not satisfied with just laughing, he tilted his head back and guffawed at the ceiling.
Sengoku's eyes flashed with a sharp light, his face filled with pleasant surprise. Zephyr, who had long known of Rowan's hidden strength, stood with his arms crossed, his face beaming with pride. Tsuru remained characteristically calm, but the high curve of her lips betrayed her happiness at seeing her mentor's power.
As for Momousagi, she had stopped wondering why Kinpira had answered Rowan's call. Her pretty face was now a mask of pure, unadulterated worship.
Commander-in-Chief Kong, looking invigorated, rubbed his hands together. "This brat... to have such powerful swordsmanship and never tell me! Just wait until I get him alone; I'll give him a piece of my mind." Kong desperately wanted to have a full-contact duel with Rowan now, to see if the Master's hidden blade or his own fists were superior.
In the center of the room, Rowan held Kinpira in a one-handed grip. He gave the blade a slight turn. In an instant, the three-foot edge shone as clear as water, with ripples of light flowing along the steel, emitting a blinding radiance. In Rowan's hand, Kinpira seemed to have transcended the rank of a "Great Grade" Meito, rivaling even the Supreme Grade blades—a divine weapon radiating a soul-shaking aura.
In comparison, the high-quality blade in Momonga's hand suddenly looked dull and lackluster.
"Young Momonga," Rowan spoke, his eyes seeming to emit sparks of sword-light. "Since you've stood up, the Old Man shall offer you a pointer on your swordsmanship."
Facing Rowan head-on, Momonga—a dedicated swordsman himself—found it difficult to breathe under the pressure of Rowan's aura. Yet, there was zero fear in his eyes. If Rowan was strong enough to draw a challenge from the World's Greatest Swordsman, how could Momonga, a fellow seeker of the blade, contain his excitement?
"To be guided by Mr. Rowan is the honor of a lifetime!" Momonga let out a hearty laugh.
He focused his mind, forcibly suppressing his surging emotions. He slowly raised his blade, pointing the tip at Rowan with a solemn expression. "Mr. Rowan, I shall not hold back!"
With those words, Momonga stomped the ground and shot forward. As he charged, a respectable sword intent of his own erupted. However, compared to the boundless ocean of intent radiating from Rowan, Momonga's was like a small stream. But though it was small, it carried a spirit of unyielding perseverance.
Even if you are a mountain, I, Momonga, have a heart that charges forward! This is my Way of the Sword!
"Take this!"
The glinting blade in Momonga's hand swung down toward Rowan without mercy.
Faced with the incoming strike, Rowan finally moved. No one could see exactly how. All they saw was a flash of pure white light. It was as if someone had used a single stroke to sever the world itself—and their vision along with it.
The sword light flashed and vanished. The white glare faded, and the officers regained their sight. They leaned forward to look.
Rowan was still standing in the center of the room, Kinpira held in one hand, his expression calm and serene. The crushing sword intent and pressure had vanished. Though he still held the blade, he once again looked like a harmless, gentle old man.
Meanwhile, Momonga, who had initiated the charge, was flying backward through the air with violent speed.
Rowan's single strike was something Momonga could not withstand in the slightest. Before Rowan's refined, absolute sword ki, the intent Momonga had gathered shattered like a glass toy—a total, crushing defeat.
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