Chapter 131: The One-Punch Pirate (Part Two)

The “Seven Warlords of the Sea” were legal pirates. In other words, the World Government had issued them letters of marque, and when necessary, they were also required to obey its commands.

Precisely because of this neither-black-nor-white, gray position, neither the Marines nor the pirates actually thought much of the Seven Warlords. They were a breed apart.

Take Qiubai, for example. Even bounty hunters could not be bothered with him anymore, because he no longer had a bounty on his head. After becoming a Warlord of the Sea, every bounty—whether Doflamingo’s or those of his subordinates—had been revoked.

That was only reasonable. The government could hardly recognize the Warlords as official allies on one hand and continue offering rewards for their heads on the other. The World Government possessed absolute credibility; it would never stoop to such a cheap, two-faced tactic.

And so Qiubai had returned to square one overnight. His eight-hundred-million bounty had reverted to an “original bounty” of eight hundred million—in other words, his head was now worth not a single penny. No bounty hunter would go to all that trouble for nothing.

Qiubai pushed open the door of “Shakky’s Rip-off Bar.” Compared with the bleak, deserted street outside, the interior was unexpectedly lively. Then again, the only people likely to enter a bar whose sign practically announced that it was eager for trouble were pirates.

Ignoring the “fierce” glares cast his way, he nimbly sidestepped a drunken figure that lurched into him, then unceremoniously planted one foot on the shin of the person trying to trip him. The man’s face reddened and his neck bulged, but he wisely “knew when to retreat.”

Doing evil was a pirate’s habit and daily routine, but after making contact, they ought at least to be able to gauge the difference in strength between themselves and their opponent. This did not require pirates to be particularly intelligent, but it did require them to possess a functioning brain.

For a pirate to live a long life, there were really two basic requirements: either brains or strength. Those who possessed neither probably ended up dead not long after setting sail.

Qiubai had not actually broken the man’s leg. He had shown considerable restraint—but only because the man happened to be the owner of the establishment.

In any case, after a chaotic and thoroughly undignified “struggle” in the cramped space, Qiubai finally dropped into a seat at the bar.

He reached for one of the haphazardly arranged menus and glanced at the prices. Uh… the place certainly lived up to its name. It really was a rip-off.

At least the proprietress was honest. If she said she was going to rip you off, she did exactly that, without the slightest ambiguity.

“Proprietress, this one.” Qiubai pointed at something at random.

He was a little disappointed. He had not seen the white-bearded old man with the round glasses here. Perhaps the fellow had gone off to gamble again, or to play the understanding old uncle and counsel some lovelorn young woman on the verge of despair.

Was it really so difficult to meet the Pirate King’s right hand?

Still, as a second-best option, the proprietress herself was here. Naturally, the proprietress was a woman. She could not be called young, but neither could her appearance be described as old.

This was precisely the sort of moment when one could not trust one’s eyes, because she really was an “old witch.”

“Shakky. Just call me by my name, boy.” Shakky set a glass down directly in front of Qiubai, making the corner of his eye twitch.

He had only pointed at something at random, but Qiubai knew that what he had ordered was supposed to be alcohol, not the bubbling drink before him that looked like orange juice and was, in fact, a mixture made from thirty percent fresh orange juice and seventy percent water.

Shakky seemed never to be without a cigarette. Qiubai remembered that she came from Amazon Lily and had been a pirate in her youth. She had either argued with Garp or been argued with by Garp, and her current relationship with Silvers Rayleigh remained unclear.

Wait. Perhaps the unit of combat strength in this world was still the “Garp”—Garp’s Garp. Compared with Garp, it was easy to see that Shakky had been no ordinary woman in her youth.

Her attention was not focused on Qiubai. She was the only person working in the bar and ought to have been extremely busy, yet this legendary figure’s attitude toward work was far too casual.

Qiubai was only here to look around, however. Even if he had run into Rayleigh, he had neither the means nor the inclination to interact with him at length. As he kept saying, he was merely here to sightsee.

He lifted the orange juice and took a sip. Sure enough, it was unbelievably weak. They might as well have served him a glass of ice water.

A refill was obviously out of the question, so he simply nursed that one glass of mixed drink for most of the day. During that time, Shakky brutally beat up three groups of customers who refused to pay, stripped them of everything they had, and threw them straight out.

Fortunately, Qiubai had intended to pay from the very beginning.

It was said that Rayleigh disappeared for months at a time. After sitting there for so long, Qiubai lost interest in seeing the living specimen, so he “willingly” paid and took his leave.

Shakky was probably dissatisfied with his behavior. How much money could she make from honest payment? Directly robbing people was far more practical.

Research had shown that even retired pirates were still pirates. Some things simply could not be changed.

Qiubai had been gone for barely half an hour when—

“Oh, you’re back? That was quick this time.”

“Bad luck. I lost faster than usual.”

The Pirate King’s girlfrie—right hand sat down in the place Qiubai had just vacated, evidently displeased with his luck at the gambling table.

Rayleigh’s current occupation was that of a coating mechanic, and he looked entirely like an ordinary coating mechanic. There was none of the awe-inspiring presence one might have imagined.

“Business was good today?”

“Not bad, but… No, never mind.”

Shakky thought of the young man who had quietly drunk orange juice for so long. She wanted to say something, but could not find the words.

Still, she had a premonition. For no particular reason, she decided that she would be hearing about that man again before long.

…

Qiubai had no idea that he had brushed shoulders with a legendary pirate. He continued strolling around the Sabaody Archipelago.

The island was a rather peculiar place. Even walking felt difficult. The sensation beneath his feet was damp, sticky, and slippery, like treading across rocks perpetually hidden from the sun and covered in thick moss.

After Sabaody Archipelago, there was Fish-Man Island, and then Dressrosa, the land Doflamingo had dreamed of for so long.

Perhaps Doflamingo was already growing impatient by now, but Qiubai needed to keep himself calm. Fish-Man Island would be another formidable obstacle. The relationship between humans and fish-men was far more strained now than it would be ten years later. If anything went wrong while passing through Fish-Man Island, it would be all too easy for everything to collapse completely.

If they encountered a large number of hostile merfolk or fish-men, even someone of Doflamingo’s caliber might easily end up drowning. A Devil Fruit user submerged in water was simply a dead Devil Fruit user.

Still, a journey of a hundred miles is completed at ninety. Doflamingo had no reason not to understand a principle like that. The closer they came to the final stage, the more cautious they needed to be.

He had considered these matters far more thoroughly than Qiubai had. To prevent the possibility of being unable to find a coating mechanic on Fish-Man Island, he had even prepared to bring one aboard the ship.

Yet no matter how meticulously one prepared, reality was always far more abrupt than any plan. Before long, they encountered a situation none of them had anticipated.