Chapter 113: The Three Small Islands (Part Two)

"If I had to estimate, the distance between the two ships is roughly two kilometers. Can I hit it? I'm a bit concerned." Qiubai rested his foot on the base of a deck cannon, his posture a mix of dashing style and slight hooliganism.

The Marine surveillance ship was no fool. They were well aware that a pirate crew of the Donquixote level was capable of anything, and the possibility of a counterattack had long been factored into their calculations. That was why they had kept themselves safely outside the effective range of the ship's artillery from the very start.

As for a chase? While heavy firepower and thick armor were staples of a battleship, this surveillance ship was not built for such things. Due to the nature of their mission, these vessels prioritized mobility, agility, and speed. While it was common for Marines to fail to catch pirates for various reasons, the reverse was also true: if the Marines were dedicated solely to running away, the pirates would have no chance of catching them.

"Brother Qiu, all the broadside gun ports are open. Shall we fire a volley?"

Ever since the incident with Komodo, Qiubai had been officially upgraded to "Brother Qiu" by all the non-executive crew members. Although the respect from his underlings was heartfelt, Qiubai himself didn't feel particularly great about it.

Take the man in front of him, for instance—he looked old enough to be the father of Widow Wang, whose son was already in high school. "Uncle, you have a full beard; who are you calling 'big brother'?"

"No, my friend, a volley is really unnecessary," Qiubai firmly rejected the suggestion.

Using high-grade enhancement drugs to launch solid iron balls 2,000 meters across the sea surface wasn't impossible, but the accuracy in such a scenario would be out of the question. Even if they were within range, trying to sink a ship through artillery fire alone would be an endless, drawn-out affair.

Just as Qiubai was about to explain his next move, he felt something gently press against the top of his foot.

Oh, it was Jora's fighting fish "daughter" rolling a solid cannonball toward him. Here, we adopt the crude method of determining gender by personality: regardless of whether they are male or female, a child raised as a girl can only be a girl.

So, please be kind to Dellinger from now on, if only for the sake of his insistence on wearing high heels.

"My dear, I really don't need this."

For a long time, due to a malevolent curse present since birth, Qiubai had been deprived of the skills and dignity of a great sniper. But at this very moment, he felt he could reclaim those things with his head held high.

As a drop reward for his arduous high-level combat, Qiubai had acquired the power known as "Observation Haki," which is said to reside within everyone. The revolutionary significance of this was not that it improved his "Archery Mastery," but that it caused the very words "Archery Mastery" to appear on his skill sheet where there had been none before.

Of course, his current Haki was still at the "presence vs. absence" stage; as for reaching any profound level, that was out of the question.

At a distance of 2,000 meters, hitting a human-sized target would be impossible unless it was the size of a giant—that would be asking too much of him. However, a target as large as a ship was an entirely different matter.

His current Haki was only at the "sensing" stage. As for the deeper "prediction" of an opponent's next move, or the almost mystical ability to see the future, those were all jokes.

Qiubai drew his bow and nocked an arrow. As he focused his mind, the distant target became exceptionally clear in his field of vision. It wasn't just his sight; all five of his senses became unusually acute—he could even hear the faint rustling of the Marines talking on the warship.

However, this ability didn't make up for his aiming technique so much as it gave him a rather metaphysical "feel" for landing a shot.

"Wait..." Just as Qiubai was about to fire, he released the bowstring. He wasn't being indecisive; he just felt that launching an attack on Marines who were peacefully enjoying the scenery without saying a word was a bit rude.

So, he beckoned to Bepo, who was fishing nearby, and handed a small megaphone to the puzzled bear.

All Bepo had to do was shout at the top of his lungs.

On the Marine surveillance ship across the way:

Upon noticing the Donquixote crew's hostile intent, a Marine quickly reported to the commander.

"M-Major, all the gun ports on the pirate ship have been opened!" The Marine's face looked a bit square, and he was clearly panicking—they were only a light reconnaissance unit, and it seemed this Marine hadn't yet been baptized by naval warfare.

"Do not panic. We are outside their range." The Major's face was even squarer than the Marine's, but his operational awareness and psychological composure were rock solid.

Using his binoculars, the Major clearly saw the open gun ports on the pirate ship. But this was merely intimidation; a barrel that wasn't long enough couldn't satisfy anyone, nor could it scare anyone.

"Wait? It seems someone on the other side is shouting at the top of their lungs." Because of the distance, compounded by the sea breeze and waves, it would be a miracle if anyone could hear such long-distance shouting, even with a megaphone.

"Major, they seem to be shouting words like 'surround,' 'surrender,' and 'lifeboats'." Perhaps because he was being stared down by so many gaping, dark holes, the Marine next to the Major had evolved due to a surge of adrenaline, managing to catch a few words.

Putting those fragments together, the Major grasped the general meaning.

"Hmph, ignore them. Ever since they crushed the Komodo Pirates, has the Donquixote crew become a bit too arrogant?" the Major remarked.

Usually, it was the Marines who demanded the surrender of pirates; what was the meaning of them shouting it back?

Despite his words, the Major remained cautious. To prevent any other long-range attacks, he observed for several minutes, but after the shouting stopped, the enemy did nothing. It felt like a waste of emotion.

"Continue observation." The Major handed the binoculars to the Marine and turned to leave.

The Major was a highly skilled professional, but the reason he hadn't been promoted in five or six years was simply that people with square faces could sometimes be too rigid.

Too dogmatic, lacking imagination, and unable to accurately predict anything outside the norm—this was his superiors' objective assessment of him.

He hadn't even taken two steps when he felt his flagship sink, followed by the sensation of being launched into the air.

"Artillery... fire?"

But these two words could not accurately explain the situation. Could a single shot blast the entire rear half of a ship into smithereens?

...

When a strange halo mixed with a massive amount of wood splinters and other debris exploded into a cloud, the reaction of everyone on the Donquixote side was almost identical:

"Damn, is this guy on drugs? What kind of madness is this that he actually hit it?"

Even Doflamingo himself stared at the "scenery" outside the porthole for a long while before muttering, "That is truly Qiubai’s style."

Although the Marines hadn't heard Bepo's shouting, the volume was crystal clear on this side:

"Marines on the other side, I regret to inform you that you have been surrounded!"

"More regrettably, we are not accepting your surrender, nor do we want you to escape. So, in accordance with humanitarian principles, we will give you five minutes to prepare. I hope at least that everyone can find a lifebuoy to strap on."

"In five minutes, we will launch a long-range, devastating strike! Remember, only five minutes!"

"I didn't expect it to actually be a devastating strike..." As the vibrations from the explosion subsided, Qiubai slowly lowered his longbow. He had originally prepared a follow-up shot in case the first one missed, but he hadn't expected to land a bullseye on his first try.

"Hmm, is it possible I was born a consummate sniper after all?"

For a moment, Qiubai forgot that his success was undoubtedly due to the "talent" he had acquired through later development.