Chapter 891 - 891: Boldly Heading for This Final Feast

On the sea of the Grand Line, a huge ship was quietly rising and falling with the waves.

It was a behemoth that made everyone in the New World wary, the Moby Dick.

Its white hull looked like a giant whale surfacing from the sea, its whale head held high, casting a heavy shadow beneath the lead-gray sky.

The sea breeze carried salty moisture across the deck, passing over the crew members lazily resting, and also over the pirate flag flapping in the wind, marked with a skull and a handlebar mustache.

Everything seemed so peaceful, as if there had never been any turmoil in this world.

However, in the next moment.

BOOM!

The ship suddenly shook violently without warning, as if the entire sea had been tightly grabbed by an invisible giant hand and then twisted hard.

The surface of the sea suddenly rose, and a wall of water dozens of meters high surged up from nowhere, churning and roaring as it came crashing down toward the Moby Dick with overwhelming force.

The moment the tsunami rose, all the crew members on deck went pale.

But just as the enormous wave rose into the air, a large mass of thick darkness suddenly spread out like a living thing.

The darkness greedily swallowed all the light, and in the blink of an eye, it forcibly pressed down the suspended seawater along with the enormous force contained within it.

The tsunami that had just been so imposing collapsed silently back into the sea, leaving behind only circles of weak ripples.

"Zehahahaha!"

A rough, highly distinctive laugh came from the direction where the darkness had disappeared.

"What is Pops getting worked up about again? You're already this old, so don't move around so much!"

Blackbeard Marshall D. Teach grinned widely, revealing a mouthful of sparse teeth as he spoke with a completely carefree look:

"If your old injuries flare up again and those holes split open, you'll really suffer!"

Everyone on deck turned their heads in unison and looked at him with expressions that were long accustomed to this, yet still speechless.

On the entire ship, only Blackbeard, the vice-captain, dared to speak to Whitebeard so disrespectfully and without restraint.

Actually, Whitebeard had a good temper and did not care about such things. Instead, he considered it a sign of closeness.

But the others did not have the courage to act this way around Whitebeard.

Ever since Blackbeard had completely given up his ambitions, he had instead lived more and more comfortably in the Whitebeard Pirates and won more and more of Whitebeard's favor.

There was only one reason.

Blackbeard understood Whitebeard far too well.

He understood the loneliness buried deep in the old man's bones, understood the soft heart hidden beneath that burly body, and understood when he wanted someone to joke around with him and when he needed some time alone.

That understanding was more genuine than any oath of loyalty.

"GURARARARARA!"

Whitebeard's trademark hearty laughter finally rolled out from deep inside the ship.

His massive body slowly rose from the specially made giant chair. One hand supported the IV stand while the other held the bisento that was famous across the seas, yet an undying ferocity still burned in his cloudy eyes.

"This doesn't count as getting angry!"

The old man shouted with full force, his laughter carrying a long-lost excitement, "Some old bastard sent me an invitation, saying he wanted to invite your Pops to a little meeting. He wants to have another good, proper fight with me!"

As soon as he finished speaking, the deck fell silent for a moment before erupting like boiling water.

"Pops! We're going with you!"

"That's right! It's been so long since we've stretched our muscles. Might as well go meet the guy Pops was talking about!"

The crew became fired up, all of them gripping their weapons tightly as fierce fighting spirit burned in their eyes.

Only one person showed deep concern, Marco.

As one of the most senior veterans on the ship, he understood better than anyone.

Someone Whitebeard called an old bastard like this, and who dared to openly challenge him to a fight, was probably none other than the World Government.

At that thought, the Celestial Dragon hoofprint on his cheek faintly began to ache, as if reminding him of certain old wounds that could never heal.

"Pops."

A slightly lazy voice drowned out the noise on the deck.

Everyone turned toward the voice, only to see that Blackbeard had somehow stopped joking around. Leaning against the railing, he spoke slowly, "We'll keep a close eye on Marine Headquarters for you. We'll also find a way to contact those old guys from the NEO Marines and have them help out and bolster your presence. As for us useless, second-rate guys who aren't fit for the stage, we won't go and cause trouble for you, Pops. Zehahaha!"

The sentence sounded like mere joking around, but it exposed the thoughts hidden deep in Whitebeard's heart.

He understood Whitebeard even better than Marco did.

Since Pops had not mentioned a single word about letting them accompany him from beginning to end, he clearly did not want them to go.

Since that was the case, all he had to do was stay behind with everyone.

And besides...

Blackbeard lowered his eyelids, hiding the flash of insight that passed through his eyes.

He did not want to go to his death.

Whitebeard's personality had a huge flaw.

He was the kind of man who, as long as someone provoked him with a few words, would willingly charge straight into a dead end.

There was no solution to that.

And all he, Blackbeard, could do was lead this ship full of battered survivors and struggle to survive in this increasingly declining old era.

To be honest, even though he was a man capable of both bending and standing tall, there was absolutely no way he could lower his head and surrender to the World Government.

Because he knew very clearly.

In the new era Rosse had created with his own hands, there was simply no place for Blackbeard's ship.

Some things ultimately had to rank above one's life.

But even so, he would never be stupid enough to throw his life away for nothing at this moment.

Whitebeard quietly looked at Blackbeard. A trace of understanding flashed through his cloudy eyes, then turned into a relieved smile.

"Gurararara! You bastard."

The old man slowly nodded and called out in a tone that only the two of them could understand, "Marine Headquarters isn't that easy to guard. These troublesome brats will be in your care. You'll have to look after them, Teach."

The casual sentence carried enormous weight.

It was a father, before leaving, entrusting everything he had built in his lifetime and everything he cared about to the son who understood him best.

Blackbeard did not answer. He only looked deeply at Whitebeard before giving a very slight nod.

Not long afterward.

A small one-man boat carrying that incredibly massive figure left the enormous shadow of the Moby Dick and sailed alone toward the distant horizon where sea and sky met.

He did not want his sons to accompany him to this life-or-death meeting.

But he also had no intention of recklessly charging into that dragon's den alone.

After all, in this world, he still had allies who could fight alongside him.

At sea, Whitebeard sat on the small boat, letting the sea wind fill his clothes.

The boat had barely traveled any distance when a familiar trail of dark-blue flames rapidly swept over from the horizon and landed steadily at the bow.

Whitebeard recognized that figure at a glance without needing to turn around.

Marco.

"Gurararara! What are you doing here, boy?"

Whitebeard furrowed his thick brows, a hint of displeasure entering his voice.

Marco straightened his collar, his expression calm, "With your body in its current condition, Pops, how could you possibly go without a ship's doctor accompanying you?"

"Gurararara!"

Whitebeard threw his head back and laughed, his laughter making the surface of the sea tremble slightly, "I'm not so old that I need someone to look after me! Go back. Go back to our ship!"

Marco did not move.

He slowly raised his hand and gently touched the hideous Celestial Dragon hoofprint on his cheek. His voice was so soft that it was almost carried away by the sea breeze, "Pops, this life of mine should have ended long ago, shouldn't it?"

Before Whitebeard could speak, he continued on his own, as if these words had been suppressed in his heart for far too long, "The Whitebeard Pirates will be fine with Teach leading them from now on."

"He's smarter than me, stronger than me, and more suited than me to carry this flag."

"Someone like me staying behind won't be able to help much. Instead, I'll hold him back and affect his decisions."

"I've never been a smart person, and I'm nowhere near as capable as him. Since that's the case, I'd rather stake the ship, the future, and all our hopes on them."

Whitebeard stared blankly at him. After a long while, the anger he had been pretending to have finally turned into a long sigh.

He no longer hid it or tried to persuade him. He simply extended his broad hand, as large as a fan, and patted Marco's shoulder with both weight and gentleness.

"Good!"

The old man grinned, laughing like a child about to rush off to a feast, "Then come with me and let's turn those bastards' territory upside down!"

His son had made the choice to follow him with his life at this critical moment between life and death.

As his father, how could he bear to refuse him?

And Marco finally put down the heavy burden on his shoulders and showed a relieved expression.

Over the years, every time he woke from a midnight dream, every time he unconsciously touched the hoofprint Rosse had personally branded onto his cheek, that bone-deep humiliation would drown him like a tide.

Especially that battle back then. The other three division commanders were his most respected elders and brothers who had fought alongside him through life and death.

He had watched helplessly, powerless to do anything, as one after another they fell to Rosse's hands, their blood staining the sea.

That pain, that torment that had plagued him day and night, had long since made life worse than death.

And this expedition, for Marco, was also a chance at redemption, a chance to finally settle things with the past.

The blue flames of the immortal phoenix silently ignited behind him, reflecting the resolute yet calm light in his eyes.

The small boat broke through the waves, carrying the figures of the old man and the young man as they sailed without hesitation toward the final battlefield that was destined to go down in history.

———

The sea breeze carried the rich scent of rum, slowly spreading over the noisy port town on Jaya Island.

The sun was setting, burning half the sky crimson.

Inside the unremarkable little tavern on the edge of town, sailors and adventurers from all over were packed inside.

The rough wooden tables were covered with cups of liquor. The glow of the oil lamps swayed across the mottled walls, mixed with the constant laughter, drinking games, and crisp clatter of bowls against tables, making the tavern almost seem ready to burst apart from the noise.

At a large table in the corner sat a group of particularly noticeable customers.

"Gurara! That's what I've been telling you! That place really exists!"

At the center of the table, a burly man with a bright red face was gesturing wildly, spittle flying as he spoke. His cloudy eyes shone with an almost devout fanaticism.

The surrounding drinkers had already gathered around him, with jeers and laughter coming one after another.

"There's a sea above the sky! And on that sea, there's a city made of gold! My ancestor went there! It's deep in those clouds, shining with gold so bright you can't even keep your eyes open!"

"Hahahaha! Here he goes again! Mont Blanc's had too much to drink again!"

"A sea in the sky? I think it's seawater that's filled your head!"

Amid the roar of laughter, Mont Blanc's face flushed red as he stuck out his neck and shouted, "You ignorant landlubbers! I'm telling you, it's real! That's the lost Golden City!"

"Sky Island?"

Crocodile, who had been sitting at the table with a gloomy expression, slowly exhaled a mouthful of purple smoke. His hooked prosthetic hand lightly tapped the tabletop, his eyes filled with undisguised ridicule.

"Kid, I suggest you drink a little less," His voice was hoarse and cold, "I believe that seawater can rise because of buoyancy and condense into a sea of clouds. But there can be land, cities, and people living up there?"

He sneered, "Ridiculous. Air can't support the weight of land. That's common sense. Anyone who went up there would've fallen and turned into minced meat eight hundred years ago."

"You... what do you know!", Mont Blanc's hair trembled wildly.

"I want to go see it!"

An extremely excited voice suddenly cut in.

Luffy slammed his hand on the table beneath his straw hat. His entire body was so excited he almost jumped off the bench, his bright black eyes filled with barely contained longing:

"An island in the sky! And a golden city! Wow! That sounds super interesting! Old man, how do you get up there?"

"Exactly! This little brother knows what's what!"

Mont Blanc had found a kindred spirit and excitedly grabbed Luffy's hand, "It definitely exists! I've bet everything I have on this for my whole life! As long as I can find that road to the sky."

"It really does exist."

A gentle and lazy voice suddenly sounded, neither loud nor soft.

The noise around the table inexplicably paused at that moment.

Everyone turned toward the voice and saw the red-haired man comfortably leaning against the back of his chair, his one arm casually resting beside his bowl of wine, a smile on his face.

"Shanks?", Crocodile frowned slightly.

If those words came from Shanks, they carried a high degree of credibility.

"Sky Island is real," Shanks shook the wine in his bowl, his tone casual, "When I was young, I really went there once with Captain Roger."

As soon as he said this, everyone at the table was shocked.

Even Crocodile's movement with the cigar between his teeth paused slightly.

"The sea in the sky, the island in the sky, and that Golden City you're talking about...", Shanks smiled, a distant trace of reminiscence appearing in his eyes, "They're all real. And not only that..."

He paused, as if considering how to phrase it, then lowered his voice slightly, "Deep inside that Golden City, there's also a Poneglyph."

[🙇🏻 You Can Support through P@tr3on—AmbitiousTranslator. It also has 40+ advanced chapters of all the novels and fanfics. It gets updated daily. Thanks for reading, have a great day~]