Chapter 135: ONE PIECE (Part III)

"It has begun."

Qiubai looked up. White threads were already blooming in the night sky.

Everything was proceeding exactly as Doflamingo had anticipated. During the day, King Riku had demanded a massive tribute from the citizens of Dressrosa without disclosing a single reason. This effectively bound the King’s credibility directly to that sum of money. By all estimates, the King would manage to gather the 10 billion Berries, but unfortunately, Doflamingo would not keep his word. As night fell, the riot he had orchestrated began.

He would soon be the King of this country "once again," but that no longer concerned Qiubai. Screams, the scent of blood, wailing, explosions, and the glow of fires erupted simultaneously in every corner of the kingdom.

"Let’s go."

Withdrawing his gaze, Qiubai spoke to Ain, who was standing behind him. Tonight, everyone had their assigned tasks, but Qiubai was no longer prepared to do anything for Doflamingo—though, in truth, he had never really done much for him to begin with. Come to think of it, what was his assigned task again?

"Will she come?" Ain asked, following closely behind him.

"...Who knows?"

Qiubai wasn't certain. Monet would likely help him with a few things, but whether she would leave with him... that remained a possibility. The key figure was Sugar. Doflamingo had indeed fed the Hobi Hobi no Mi (Toy-Toy Fruit) to the young girl, which made her the most critical person of the night. Consequently, both Trebol and Doflamingo would remain by her side, meaning she had to stay here. Qiubai wanted to slip away quietly, not confront Doflamingo head-on. Given his strength, he knew his limits; there was no need to force the impossible. Thus, Monet was an unknown variable, one that leaned further away from Qiubai’s control.

Faced with the chaos of the kingdom, Qiubai was not indifferent, yet he walked calmly and steadily in one direction. Such an abrupt pattern of movement was quite conspicuous. Above him came a buzzing sound; it was the aerial reconnaissance duo, Baby-5 and Buffalo. As the "EYE" of the pirate crew, they were responsible for monitoring the overall situation.

"You two!" Qiubai waved at them. They saw his greeting and lowered their altitude.

"Brother Qiu?"

"Are you coming with me?"

It was an invitation, but at such a critical moment, everyone was on different wavelengths. A vague question naturally could not produce the expected response.

"Go with you?" Baby-5 looked puzzled. "But Qiubai, our tasks aren't the same, are they?"

"Is that so? I’m a bit confused." Qiubai smiled, then continued, "Stay safe in the future. Keep monitoring."

"Understood."

The two ascended again, filled with doubt, completely unaware that they had just encountered a major divergence. Yet, their deeply ingrained subconscious had answered for them.

After bidding them farewell, Qiubai and Ain continued toward the outskirts of the city. Gradually, the various sounds of suffering faded into a faint background noise. They left the city and reached the designated meeting spot: a vast, sprawling field of sunflowers.

He just wondered if Qiubai would be able to wait for Kazami Yuuka...

Half an hour, an hour, two hours—time approached the limit of their agreement. Due to the tension, Ain felt as though the commotion in the city was gradually subsiding. "Qiubai, we should le—"

"She’s here."

Qiubai cut her off with those two words. He was quite patient at critical moments.

A green-haired girl pushed aside the yellow petals of a sunflower and appeared before him.

"Sorry, I’m a little late. Things over there were a bit troublesome."

"Is it over at the palace?" Qiubai asked, as if making small talk, while taking the item Monet handed to him. It was a thick notebook. He glanced at it casually; the contents looked like alien script to him.

"It’s just about over... There are thirteen entries in total. That’s all I managed to see; I don't know if there are others," Monet said. The first half of her sentence answered his question, while the latter explained the notebook.

"No, this is enough. As expected of you, Ms. Secretary," Qiubai praised. She hadn't been with Doflamingo for very long, let alone had opportunities to access such classified materials. To be able to obtain a copy of such things was truly admirable. To transcribe such cryptic symbols perfectly within a limited time was something an ordinary person could never achieve, but Monet could—it was a talent even rarer and more precious than the Ope Ope no Mi (Op-Op Fruit).

"May I ask what this is?" Monet had actually guessed long ago, but she asked anyway.

"Simply put, it holds the treasure map of an old pirate," Qiubai said, half-jokingly.

"If I’m not mistaken, is the name of that 'old pirate' Gol Roger?" Monet mentioned the name known to everyone.

"To be precise, it should be 'Gol D. Roger,'" Qiubai corrected her slightly. The "D." that the World Government had hidden was quite important.

The reason Qiubai had come to Doflamingo was for these very things: the Poneglyphs. At the beginning, he was certain that a pirate as special as Doflamingo must possess Poneglyphs, though he hadn't expected such a quantity. But this was a good thing; the more "samples," the better.

"But, no one can read these characters, can they?" Monet’s eyes sparkled as she looked at him. The man before her certainly didn't look like someone who could read Poneglyphs.

"It’s impossible for me to read them on my own, but... have you heard the story of the famous detective and the old army doctor?"

He was referring to a certain story about "dancing men" from a series featuring a detective who used deductive reasoning. These Poneglyphs were merely "samples." Qiubai didn't think there was a "Road Poneglyph" among them, but... logic and deduction had always been the orthodox way to decipher languages and codes.

The problem was, who could do it? Currently, on his side, there was only one man, one woman, one bear, and one little boy—plus a low-tier brat in the distance and a girl hoping for a gender swap... there likely wasn't that kind of talent among them.

Monet, of course, had no idea what story Qiubai was talking about.

"What I mean is... I am leaving the Donquixote family."

"Can you help me translate this notebook?"

Of course, Qiubai didn't need a historian to read the text in its entirety; he only needed to identify the words indicating direction. The samples were already in hand; now, he needed someone who could parse them.

He needed a Sherlock "Monet."