Chapter 134
**Chapter 134**
Garp raised his fist, shaking it threateningly.
"Boy, haven't you tasted my Iron Fist of Love in too long?"
Dragon pried himself free from the cracked wall, his body aching. He wanted to argue, to insist, but when he looked up, he caught something rare in Garp's expression—**tension.**
He hesitated.
After a moment of silence, he swallowed back his words, exhaled softly, and forced himself to relax.
"I'm sorry, Father," he muttered. "I had a nightmare. My mind was a little confused. You don't have to take what I just said seriously."
Garp studied him for a moment before breaking into a relieved grin. He stepped forward, clapping Dragon's shoulder with a hearty pat.
"I know you've been hit hard, but you're still young. You might catch up to Carl in the future!"
Dragon scoffed.
"But Carl is younger than me."
"Uh… ahem!" Garp coughed awkwardly. "Carl's situation is… special. He fought the Whitebeard Pirates as a student and stayed at sea for another year after graduation. Of course, his strength shot up fast!"
"Alright, Father, enough about Carl. There's nothing wrong with my body. Let's just go back."
"That's my boy! Built strong, just like me! Oh, by the way, I've got good news. You passed the assessment! The department decided to promote you to **Rear Admiral!** Haha, you're almost catching up to me!"
Dragon gave a lukewarm nod, showing little enthusiasm.
Garp noticed—but he didn't take it to heart. He had never cared much for promotions himself. If his son felt the same, it wasn't surprising.
---
Meanwhile, back in his office, Carl leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.
He had just finished a call with the headquarters hospital, **inquiring** about Dragon's condition.
Hearing about Dragon's disturbed state, Carl's smirk widened.
**Perfect.**
After a moment of thought, he picked up the Den Den Mushi again—this time, calling **Garling.**
A few *blu* sounds later, the receiver crackled to life.
"Carl," came Garling's dry, unimpressed voice. "What is it this time?"
Carl chuckled.
"Uncle Garling, can't I just call to chat?"
The Den Den Mushi imitated Garling's sneer.
"Don't play games with me, kid. Speak plainly. In our family, we don't beat around the bush."
"Alright, alright," Carl relented. "It's about this year's **Heavenly Tribute,** right?"
"Hmph. Yeah, about a month left. What, you got your eye on something? I can have the people below keep an eye out."
"No, not yet. But there's an interesting graduate this year, and I want him involved in **guarding** the tribute."
The **Heavenly Tribute** was one of the World Government's most sacred operations. It required oversight from **CP9**, and the Navy always assigned a portion of its forces to ensure its smooth transport.
Garling's voice held a hint of curiosity.
"Oh? You mean Aramaki?"
Carl grinned.
"No. **Monkey D. Dragon.** Garp's son."
Silence.
Then, the Den Den Mushi's eyes **narrowed.**
Garling's tone turned cold.
"Him? Garp doesn't align with the World Government. His son must be no different."
Carl chuckled.
"Seems you're well-informed, Uncle."
"Hmph. Of course. If it weren't for his combat skills and his connections with high-ranking Navy officials, we'd have gotten rid of him long ago. The **D** in his name is a real thorn in our side."
Carl's smirk deepened.
"Hehe… That's why I want **Dragon** to escort the Heavenly Tribute. Over the years, Garp has managed to **avoid** this duty because of his position, but his son doesn't have that luxury. Let's see how Dragon handles it. If nothing else, it'll teach Garp a lesson."
A dark chuckle came from Garling.
"Fine. I'll have the World Government issue the order. By the way, what's Dragon's rank now?"
"**Rear Admiral.**"
"Hmm… Seems like he has potential. But you should send someone reliable with him. The Heavenly Tribute is too important to leave to chance."
Carl's grin didn't waver.
"Uncle Garling, you don't need to worry. **I'll lead the escort myself.** Is that reliable enough?"
For a moment, there was silence. Then, a pleased chuckle.
"You're a diligent boy."
"Haha, of course, Uncle. The **Heavenly Tribute** is our property, after all."
With that, the call ended.
Carl swirled the **red wine** in his glass, his smirk returning as he replayed the day's events in his mind.
The **Vampire Fruit** granted him many abilities. One of them was the power to **manipulate dreams**—**to plant seeds of doubt, disillusionment, and rebellion.**
Dragon's growing resentment toward the World Government?
**Carl had orchestrated it.**
And now, it was time to push him further.
Raising his glass, Carl whispered,
"Dragon… Can you resist this time?"
---
**One Week Later—Marineford**
A **sealed document** arrived at Navy Headquarters.
Fleet Admiral Kong read it over, his expression grim.
He **immediately** called for a high-level meeting.
In the large conference hall, high-ranking officers gathered, their faces serious.
Kong cleared his throat and announced,
"The World Government has issued an order. **Rear Admiral Monkey D. Dragon is to serve as an escort for this year's Heavenly Tribute.**"
Silence.
Then—
**BANG!**
Garp **slammed** his fist against the table, cracking it.
"**WHAT?!**"
His voice **boomed** across the hall.
Kong expected this reaction.
"Calm down, Garp."
"**Calm down?!**" Garp growled. His face was dark with fury. "Dragon just graduated! Why are they throwing him into this?!"
His rage wasn't about the **danger.**
No—this was about something far worse.
**The Celestial Dragons.**
Garp **despised** them.
And now, the World Government wanted his **son** to serve **them.**
Garp clenched his fists, his mind racing.
**Dragon is already disillusioned with the Navy.**
**If he sees the true corruption of the Celestial Dragons…**
His gut twisted.
**He might never come back.**