Chapter Forty-Nine: Just Teasing

Qian, Dull, Sever, and Thin are the weapons Qiubai has used most frequently so far, all of which are his own creations, giving him a sense of effortless mastery when wielding them.

At this stage, no matter how advanced the weapon, it's not worth using—frankly, for him, even a supreme-grade greatsword is mere trash. That’s why he so earnestly buried Master Ryoma’s Autumn Water with due reverence.

But which of these four blades is the hardest to master? Without question, it’s the Thin Blade: Needle. In practical terms, it can hardly be considered a weapon fit for real combat.

It’s more like an ornamental piece—pleasing to the eye, yet lacking in utility—because its difficulty of use is simply too severe.

The Thin Blade has the extended form of a nodachi, with a blade as thin as a cicada’s wing and crystal clear. Speaking of sharpness, it is in a league of its own. But as sharp as it is, so too is it fragile; forget clashing with other weapons—if you don’t swing it along the perfect trajectory, even a tiny deviation will lead to disastrous results. The slightest mistake will cause the blade to tremble, and that subtle shiver will shatter it.

Just as Qiubai demonstrated now.

So if you ask whether that strike was worth ten million, in truth, it wasn’t—because the blade broke, and that means Qiubai’s attack remained unfinished.

“That’s about three thousand times now…” Qiubai murmured, watching the hilt in his hand turn to sand and fade into nothingness.

To be precise, it was the two thousand nine hundred and eighty-sixth time he’d broken a Thin Blade. Even so, he’d barely begun to grasp how to use it, and for now, his success rate was still low.

The only advantage is that Qiubai can mass-produce these, and he possesses a stubborn perseverance—so he doesn’t mind ruining them endlessly. One breaks, he makes another, and the cycle continues day after day. Though they’re all “shoddy knockoffs,” that’s the beauty of his “Unlimited Blade Works.” If he had a one-of-a-kind original, so brittle it would snap at a touch, who would dare practice recklessly?

“Qiubai, you’ve gone too far.” After a brief silence, Doflamingo finally spoke. Though he’d won, he wasn’t satisfied.

No one expected Qiubai to settle the fight so cleanly—even if his opponent was just a minor character, the bounty was still twelve million.

That’s hardly a small sum—enough for Qiubai to sell swords several times over.

Besides, based on previous impressions, Qiubai was supposed to be a long-range shooter—and not even a precise one. When did he become a swordsman?

From what Doflamingo had observed, Qiubai’s offensive power was strong, but his overall strength could only be called average. If he were to deal with the Yellow Rooster, Qiubai ought to sneak up and press an arrow to his forehead.

Yet Qiubai had once again upended expectations. Who would have thought that with a Sword Sword Fruit, he’d actually learn swordsmanship?

Moreover, Qiubai’s attack was almost unimaginable—he barely moved from his spot yet dealt the finishing blow at an absurd range.

Qiubai’s abilities were surprisingly profound, which ought to be something to celebrate—except for the fact that the man was dead.

Not that the Yellow Rooster’s death mattered much. The issue was that Doflamingo had just said to let the man go back and deliver a message, and the next moment Qiubai cut him down. That was… what could you call it? Disobedient, perhaps?

Who’s really in charge here, anyway?

“He’s not dead; I was just toying with him,” Qiubai replied, unconcerned.

“Not dead?” Doflamingo was a bit skeptical. Qiubai’s strike had been swift, but it was impossible to fool his eyes. He wasn’t sure how it worked, but the opponent had indeed been hit by Qiubai’s telescoping weapon.

The group looked over. Sure enough, the Yellow Rooster was sprawled out, but his head was intact, and there was no blood.

Everyone had clearly seen Qiubai cleave at him with a forty-meter blade, but, in reality, the “Wicked Insight” technique was nothing more than an illusion.

Using the thin, transparent blade to collect, reflect, and focus light, it created the illusion of the blade extending infinitely. That was the essence of “Wicked Insight”—the reason it had to be performed with the Thin Blade: Needle.

Because that’s what the weapon was designed for.

For a swordsman, sometimes spirit, energy, will, and intent must come before “swordsmanship.” The former are the foundation, the latter the manifestation; thus, swordsmanship is a cultivation of both mind and body.

From the enemy’s perspective, Qiubai’s strike had both form and intent. Though the air trembled, the move was poised, brimming with a sharp and unyielding force so overwhelming that the victim truly believed himself slain.

This is not so strange, for Qiubai’s technique was a killing blow.

Yet intent may not distinguish real from illusory, but swordsmanship does—an illusion is an illusion, reality is reality. Put simply, that blow targeted the opponent’s mind; the mind affects the body, blurring the line between what is real and what is not, causing him to collapse. It was a brutally forceful intimidation.

To put it plainly, the man had been “dazzled by a flashlight and scared sh*tless.” The “Wicked Insight” technique did less harm than hitting someone in the head with a flashlight, so in theory and in fact, it shouldn’t kill.

As for why Qiubai succeeded with one strike, it wasn’t that his opponent was so weak, but rather two reasons: first, Qiubai attacked too suddenly—he didn’t even bother to count down before swinging; second, since they were on enemy turf, most of the Yellow Rooster’s attention was on Doflamingo and the other officers. He underestimated the “nobody” that was Qiubai.

“Not dead,” Qiubai affirmed with a look of calm satisfaction, as if the matter were already settled.

But who could know the bitterness in his heart? No matter how much he practiced, he still couldn’t quite finish the move. Maybe he should stick to guerrilla warfare… or just long-range combat from now on?

For a moment, the room fell silent: the Yellow Rooster lay prone, and the others watched in stillness.

But, just as Qiubai said, nothing had really happened to the Yellow Rooster; he’d merely been fooled by a trick of the eye. After lying there for a while, he finally realized—

Wait, I’m actually fine?

And then, like a fallen woman encountering a righteous officer, his spirit was redeemed from the inside out, and he began to stir.

Qiubai, watching, thought the man had remarkable tenacity. Wouldn’t it be better to just stay down? Why insist on a comeback?

But this time, Qiubai was being overly excitable, because Ain had already walked over to the still-dazed Yellow Rooster and promptly stepped on his shoulder.

Well, that was that for Qiubai.

Being stepped on wasn’t much, but it did serve as a “wake-up call.” The Yellow Rooster jolted upright and, eyes full of wariness, glared at Qiubai before reaching for his sword—only to discover…

Why is this sword so heavy and long?

“This is a ruthless pirate with a bounty of twelve million—he must have considerable strength, so you must be exceedingly careful when you attack. Don’t get careless just because you have the advantage of youth,” Qiubai remarked, looking at the now “revived” Yellow Rooster, then bowed his head to offer this advice.

“So the task of defeating the family’s enemy is yours…”

“Baby-5.”

For various reasons, Qiubai decided to let the little girl off her leash.

The Yellow Rooster watched, dumbfounded, as a small girl stepped forward… As if he, a pirate, would be soft-hearted at the sight of a child! He reached for his sword—only to find he couldn’t draw it, because it was now too heavy for him.

Only then did the Yellow Rooster realize what had happened to him… He’d become the smallest nesting doll, reduced to a child—had he not?

That was the convenience of Ain’s power.

As the single-ponytailed girl approached, step by step, the Yellow Rooster was suddenly overwhelmed by despair—greater even than if Qiubai had simply hacked him to pieces.

“This is your test to see if you can stay in the family,” Qiubai called out from behind. And then…

Groin strikes, ear biting, eye gouging.

The ensuing brawl was as brutal as it was pitiful, raging for over ten minutes until Baby-5 emerged, nose bleeding and eyes blackened, but with a triumphant smile.

Victory always comes with blood and tears. She won by virtue of her age advantage, and the fact that her adversary was too stunned to react properly.

Baby-5, being sensible, didn’t trouble any of the big shots in the room after the fight; instead, she tidied up the “battlefield” herself… A little girl, dragging a chicken leg, tossed her opponent outside.

As for the Yellow Rooster’s expression, words like “utter despair” hardly did him justice—he looked like a teddy bear that had been thrown into a troop of frenzied male gorillas and only fished out three days later.