One-Fifth of the Territory, Crocodile’s Scheme

Seeing that Sanders had healed his injuries in the blink of an eye, Vista and the others became even more wary of him.

Vista glanced back at their critically injured father, Whitebeard, his expression filled with hesitation.

He wasn't sure whether to trust Sanders' words. Earlier, Sanders had said he wouldn't take Whitebeard's life, and he'd heard it clearly.

Now, Marco's situation was unknown, and no one knew when he'd return.

Whitebeard was severely injured, his shallow breaths and faintly rising chest the only signs he was still alive.

It seemed the previous battle had aggravated old wounds.

Delaying any longer might truly cost him his life.

With these thoughts in mind, Vista gritted his teeth and said in a low, almost pleading tone:

"Please, help save our father!"

He figured that since Sanders had said he wouldn't harm Whitebeard further, he was likely a man of his word.

After all, with Sanders' demonstrated strength, he could easily kill Whitebeard even under their protection.

"Vista, are you serious?!"

Diamond Jozu looked utterly incredulous, unable to comprehend why Vista would request Sanders to save Whitebeard.

Wasn't it Sanders who caused these injuries in the first place?

If Sanders approached with ill intent, they wouldn't even have the chance to stop him!

"Enough! Stop wasting time and treat Dad!"

Vista shot a glare at Jozu, his voice booming with urgency.

He then tugged Jozu aside, making way for Sanders.

The others wanted to object but swallowed their words when they saw the resolute yet humiliated look on Vista's face.

They could only glare at Sanders with hostile eyes.

Sanders shrugged nonchalantly and slowly approached Whitebeard.

At this moment, Whitebeard's body was covered in wounds, and his iconic crescent-shaped white mustache was nowhere to be seen.

Who knew how long it would take to grow back?

Amidst the group's tense stares, Sanders raised his hand slowly.

A green energy emerged in his palm.

With a thought, the energy surged toward Whitebeard, who lay on the icy surface.

Small wounds on Whitebeard's body began to close and scab over.

Even his internal injuries showed significant improvement, healing dramatically within moments.

Even some of his chronic injuries seemed to ease.

Whitebeard's breathing grew stronger, and his heartbeat became more powerful.

Sanders didn't fully heal Whitebeard's chronic injuries, as doing so would require using the awakened power of the Healing Fruit, which would leave him weakened for three or four days.

He bore no grudge against Whitebeard and even intended to orchestrate a massive war, so killing Whitebeard wasn't part of his plan.

At the same time, there wasn't enough camaraderie between them to justify expending all his strength to fully heal the man.

"That should do it," Sanders said, withdrawing his hand.

"With Marco's healing abilities, and after some rest, he'll likely be stronger than he was before our battle."

After all, Sanders had treated some of Whitebeard's chronic injuries. Even though they weren't fully healed, he was still in better shape than before.

Perhaps he wouldn't need to rely on IV drips anymore.

Everyone present was skilled in Observation Haki and could clearly sense that Whitebeard's condition had improved significantly.

They looked at Sanders with complex expressions, unsure of how to feel.

Hate? Of course, they hated him. Whitebeard's injuries were caused by Sanders, who had nearly killed him. Their anger was justified.

But Sanders had also healed Whitebeard afterward.

According to Sanders, even some of Whitebeard's chronic injuries had improved.

From that perspective, they ought to be grateful to Sanders.

Hatred and gratitude clashed in their hearts, leaving them unsure of what to say. They could only stand there, cold-faced and silent.

Vista felt it would be inappropriate to remain quiet. After checking Whitebeard's condition briefly, he stood up and said gratefully, "Thank you for saving our father."

No matter what, Sanders had saved Whitebeard, and they owed him thanks.

Even though the injuries had been inflicted by Sanders himself, battles among pirates were nothing unusual.

They had lost because they were weaker. There was no point in complaining.

If their enemy helped treat their wounds afterward, they should be grateful.

"It's not without a price," Sanders said, waving his hand.

Hearing this, Vista wasn't surprised.

There was no bond between them and Sanders, so it was only natural for him to make demands.

He sincerely asked:

"If you have any demands, just say them. As long as we can do it, we'll do our utmost to fulfill them!"

Vista spoke resolutely. Whitebeard was their pillar of strength.

As long as Whitebeard could stay safe, even sacrificing his own life was worth it to Vista.

"I want one-fifth of Whitebeard Pirates' territory!"

Sanders extended his palm, showing the number five.

He wasn't one to make a losing deal.

Asking for one-fifth of Whitebeard's territory in exchange for saving him was, in Sanders' view, a fair trade.

His forces had already set out into the seas, and it was time for the Thunder God Pirates to expand their territory.

Just having Sky Island and Dressrosa was far too little.

To become an Emperor of the Sea, territory was a necessary part of the equation.

Sanders planned to take one-fifth of each Emperor's domain.

By then, everyone's territories would be roughly equal.

Hearing Sanders' demand, some people's faces shifted, but considering he had just saved Whitebeard, they held their tongues.

Vista glanced at Whitebeard and gritted his teeth before responding:

"I agree on behalf of both our captain and Marco!"

It was just one-fifth of their territory. To Vista, even all their land combined couldn't compare to a single strand of Whitebeard's mustache.

Besides, as long as Whitebeard was still around, they could always seize land from others to make up for it.

Sanders nodded and added:

"I want the territory closest to Dressrosa."

His second base of operations was in Dressrosa, and it would be difficult to defend if Whitebeard offered lands too far away.

"No problem," Vista replied firmly.

Since they were giving it up, they wouldn't stoop to underhanded tactics that would tarnish the Whitebeard Pirates' honor.

"In that case, I'll take my leave," Sanders said with a nod before flying off without hesitation.

The fight was over, and he'd secured the territory. There was no reason to linger.

Shortly after Sanders left, Whitebeard slowly opened his eyes.

"Father! Father, are you alright?"

Vista asked with concern.

Whitebeard reached up to touch his mustache, only to find it gone.

After sensing his current physical state, he frowned.

"I'm fine. In fact, I feel quite good."

Although his injuries hadn't completely healed, Whitebeard felt as though his body had returned to its state from years ago—remarkably light and agile.

"What happened? Where's that Sanders guy?"

Whitebeard asked, fully aware that he had lost to Sanders.

"Father..."

With a guilty expression, Vista recounted how Sanders had healed him and how they'd given up one-fifth of their territory in return.

"Gurararara!"

"Sanders saved me? That's quite unexpected!"

Whitebeard stood up from the icy ground, laughing heartily.

As for the loss of territory, Whitebeard didn't care at all.

Just as Vista had thought, territory could always be reclaimed.

"By the way, Marco isn't back yet?"

Whitebeard asked after scanning the area and not seeing Marco.

"He's probably still fighting the Marines. Akainu led a fleet of warships in this direction," Vista replied.

Whitebeard nodded. His Observation Haki had detected Marco engaging the Marines earlier.

Taking his Murakumogiri from Namur, Whitebeard laughed heartily:

"Let's go give that magma brat a good thrashing!"

"Father, your injuries..."

"Gurararara! My injuries are fine. I can fight another battle if needed."

"That Sanders guy does have a knack for healing. I wonder what devil fruit ability he's using."

Whitebeard laughed again.

Though his injuries weren't completely healed, Whitebeard felt he was in peak condition.

Another epic battle wouldn't be a problem.

It was likely that Sanders had used some kind of devil fruit power related to healing.

"It's time to show those Marines what we're made of!"

Vista, seeing that Whitebeard had made up his mind, nodded and said nothing more.

Whitebeard's battle against Sanders had been beyond their ability to intervene.

Moreover, with Whitebeard's prior severe injuries, they could sense he had been holding back a lot of frustration.

Now, with Akainu leading his men to try and take advantage of the situation, it was the perfect opportunity for Whitebeard to vent some of that pent-up anger.

If it weren't for their concern over Whitebeard's fight, the rest of the crew would have long since charged at Akainu with their weapons drawn.

Now that Whitebeard was mostly fine, they were eager to unleash their fury on the Marines.

"And Kaido—that bastard took the chance to seize some of our territory!"

Diamond Jozu spat angrily.

"Gurararara, he'll regret that," Whitebeard laughed.

"If Kaido dares to take my territory, he'll naturally have to pay the price!"

With Whitebeard's declaration, the group quickly returned to the Moby Dick, preparing to assist Marco.

Not far from their location, Crocodile stood at the bow of his ship, holding a telescope.

"Guhahaha! Looks like Whitebeard lost," Crocodile chuckled deeply, his eyes filled with shock.

He hadn't expected Whitebeard to be the one to lose.

As someone who had once challenged Whitebeard, Crocodile knew better than anyone how overwhelming the man's strength was—so immense that it made people give up even the thought of chasing after him.

Yet, such a powerful figure had actually been defeated by Sanders, a young man barely in his twenties.

Crocodile felt more and more out of touch with the dynamics of the sea.

"Whitebeard looks fine. Why do you say he lost?"

MR. 2, standing beside him, asked in confusion. He, too, held a telescope and had seen Whitebeard climb back aboard his ship, seemingly unharmed.

"Hmph, his mustache is gone. If he didn't lose, then who did?"

Crocodile muttered, puffing on his cigar.

"But what's with that frozen battlefield? When did the Whitebeard Pirates get someone with a Devil Fruit ability like that?"

Crocodile's eyes were full of doubt.

He prided himself on being well-informed about the Whitebeard Pirates and had never heard of anyone with such powers joining their ranks.

When he arrived earlier, he had only seen Sanders flying away. He hadn't seen him create the icy terrain.

"It looks similar to the Ice-Ice Fruit powers of a Marine Admiral," MR. 2 speculated softly.

Crocodile thought for a while but couldn't figure it out, so he decided to let it go.

The newspapers would surely report the details of this battle soon enough.

Those reporters were exceptionally skilled at digging up every piece of information they could.

"Let's go. The show's over. It's time to proceed with our plans," Crocodile said indifferently.

He had already made a move against the Marines, which meant his position as a Warlord of the Sea was gone.

It was time to execute his next steps.

"Are we heading to join the Beasts Pirates?" MR. 2 asked cautiously.

Crocodile gave a light "hmm" in response, his gaze lingering on Whitebeard's ship, a flicker of determination in his eyes.

He hadn't given up on Pluto, the ancient weapon.

Breaking into Whitebeard's territory to find it was no longer feasible.

The only way to trace Pluto's whereabouts was to temporarily align himself with Kaido and the Beasts Pirates.

Once he secured Pluto, he would strike out on his own once more!

For the sake of Pluto, Crocodile didn't mind playing subordinate to Kaido for a while.

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T/N:

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