Chapter 134: Nutritional Cuisine

TL/N:

There was a previous mistake in the previous chapters.

Jabba is actually Scopper Gaban.

I mistranslated Gaban as Jabba thinking he was another original character in this fiction, just like Sol. However, there was a mention in this chapter of his appearance, and added with his weapon being an axe, I immediately realized that it was Gaban and not Jabba an original character.

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Although Monmon Island is small, it boasts a considerable area and a unique terrain that rises gradually from a low beachfront to a higher inland elevation.

The lower part of the island is the beach where Maude and the others landed, the only area on the island suitable for an easy landing.

Moving inland from the beach, one passes through a forest before the terrain begins to ascend.

At the highest point of the island lies a valley encircled by semi-circular rocky mountains.

In Maude's words, it resembled a massive ancient Roman amphitheater built into a hillside, with a large, conspicuous gap in its structure.

This valley, referred to by the islanders as "Ring Valley," is where they reside.

The valley, surrounded by mountains, nurtures a flourishing grassland.

With ample natural fodder, the inhabitants of Monmon Island raise numerous sheep within the valley to meet their daily needs.

For the islanders, sheep are a vital resource. Consequently, their clothing often features embroidery of adorable sheep heads as a symbol of this importance.

Despite there being only about a hundred households on Monmon Island, the valley contains a surprisingly large number of buildings, enough to accommodate thousands of residents comfortably.

These structures exhibit a distinctly Greek architectural style, from their columns and bricks to the intricate reliefs, all crafted with extraordinary precision.

Maude also noticed several dilapidated, collapsed buildings scattered around. While they appeared to be ordinary residences, they were more like ruins.

These ruins imbued the valley with an aura of mystery.

As a newcomer, even with the connection through Gaban, Maude refrained from wandering around aimlessly, let alone exploring those ruins.

"This place is definitely a retiree's paradise," Maude remarked.

Monmon Island, secluded and tranquil, was so remote that even the News Coo only visited once a week.

After spending some time here, Maude found the island as idyllic as Sol described—a perfect place for retirement.

Still, Maude preferred the chaos and unpredictability of Mad Hat Town, a place teeming with dangerous bounty targets—or rather, pirates.

In comparison, Monmon Island initially disappointed Maude. However, under Sol's relentless supervision, he began enduring rigorous physical training every day.

Gradually, Maude stopped indulging in unrealistic thoughts and focused on honing his body, striving to master the "Moonwalk" technique as soon as possible.

However, without the right physique, mastering Moonwalk was an arduous challenge.

Deprived of the shortcuts offered by the Hunter's Notebook, even completing Sol's daily training tasks led to only limited improvements in Maude's physical strength.

Consider Sabo, trained rigorously by the Revolutionary Army from a young age, or Luffy and Zoro, who honed their bodies through years of relentless practice. Physical resilience, unless innate, required time and effort to build.

Without a powerful physique, no matter how well Maude understood the principles of various techniques, they would remain theoretical—confined to his mind.

Currently, Maude's challenge lay in the inefficacy of the Hunter's Notebook, leaving him to slowly build his strength through hard work on the island.

In contrast, Sol's shared experiences and techniques proved far more valuable.

It was a day of azure skies.

In the grasslands, the sheep moved erratically in small groups, almost as if they were hyperactive children running amok.

Maude, with a massive boulder strapped to his back, performed push-ups on the grass.

The process of physical training was monotonous and dull, regardless of the method employed.

The key was not the technique but persistence.

Nearby, Sol and Gaban sat atop a smooth boulder.

Each puffed on a pipe, savoring the gentle breeze in an atmosphere of leisure.

Shepherding, for Gaban, was just like this—finding a spot to sit and staying there for most of the day. Watching Maude's grueling training was no different from overseeing the sheep.

"You planning to settle down here?" Gaban tapped his pipe and glanced sideways at Sol, who appeared entirely at ease before turning his gaze forward again.

"What's the matter? Not happy to have me around?" Sol quipped, eyeing Gaban's shiny bald head.

Back in the day, Gaban had the thickest hair of anyone in the crew. Now, though, age seemed to have taken its toll, leaving his scalp bare. And that little pair of sunglasses—was he planning to wear them for the rest of his life?

Sol's thoughts brimmed with mischief.

Gaban, catching Sol's glance, retorted dryly, "Happy or not, don't think you can freeload forever."

"Bah! After all our years of friendship, you're seriously bringing this up?"

"Can friendship fill an empty stomach?" Gaban countered.

Sol looked skyward at the mention of food. "Speaking of which, I'm starving. Where's Gaya with the meal?"

"You old fox…" Gaban shook his head.

A brief silence followed.

Sol, watching Maude from a distance, suddenly said, "Gaban, you know I didn't bring them to Monmon Island just for retirement, right?"

Gaban took his pipe from his mouth and replied, "Your thick skin hasn't changed. At least this time, you waited this long to bring it up."

Sol chuckled. "I won't make you work for free. If you have any requests, just name them. If it's within my power, I won't hesitate."

Gaban fell silent for a moment before sighing. "Even in my wildest dreams, I wouldn't have thought you, of all people, would go to such lengths for someone else."

As he spoke, Gaban glanced at Sol's empty left leg.

On the night of their reunion, Gaban had heard Sol's tale of Mad Hat Island and Maude in exhaustive detail.

Sol waved off the remark. "You wouldn't understand."

"Ha."

Gaban raised a brow, remarking, "You're right. I don't understand why you didn't teach the kid swordsmanship. From what I see, he's a natural. At the very least, he could've picked up some axe skills from me. Better than learning how to shoot."

Hearing Gaban's blunt criticism, Sol's temple twitched with frustration. If he didn't need Gaban's help, he would've snapped back immediately.

Patience.

Sol's lips trembled as he stuffed his pipe back into his mouth, taking a deep drag to calm himself.

Gaban, meanwhile, smirked behind his sunglasses, amused by Sol's reaction.

Time had passed, but many memories felt as if they had happened just yesterday.

Back then, Sol—perhaps out of admiration for Roger and Rayleigh's prowess with swords—had stubbornly declared his intention to become a swordsman.

He'd pestered them endlessly, only to be crushed by a few choice words from Roger, which put an abrupt end to the idea.

Sol had been so devastated he'd gone on a hunger strike for half a month.

Looking back, had Sol truly pursued swordsmanship, the crew wouldn't have had such a reliable sniper among them.

Gaban smiled faintly at the thought, taking a puff of his pipe before sensing something. He turned his head.

"She's here."

"Oh, finally! Lunch has arrived," Sol exclaimed, looking back.

Gaya approached, carrying a large pot single-handedly.

Gaban smirked and added, "This morning, I gave Gaya special instructions."

"Special instructions?"

"That pot doesn't contain your usual lunch. It's the 'nutritional cuisine' you requested for the kid."

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