CHAPTER 27

"This time, the harvest isn't small... a Logia-type — the Goro Goro no Mi, Thunder Fruit!"

Shen Yuan suppressed his excitement, murmuring to himself, "And this… an Ancient Zoan — the Saber-Toothed Tiger form."

Rayleigh stood quietly, his expression puzzled.

"Marco said Whitebeard approved my proposal. So the plan needs to move ahead."

"You're really going to work with that old man, Whitebeard?" Rayleigh asked, surprised.

"Yes. I have a complete strategy."

"For what?"

"For territory and treasure... for Supreme Grade swords... for power."

As he spoke, Shen Yuan's hand slowly moved toward the hilt of the Heaven-Swallowing Sword, a glint of ambition flashing in his eyes.

Smoker kept counting the fragmented remains of the golden bell from Skypiea.

The wordless look on his face said everything — stunned, overwhelmed.

He couldn't help but wonder — how did Shen Yuan know all these secrets?

That Skypiea was real. That the Thunder Fruit was there. That the golden bell existed and could serve as funding...

Could the sacred relic of Skypiea really be used as operational capital?

"You really don't spare anyone, do you, brat?" Rayleigh said with a deep sigh.

He looked ten years older all of a sudden.

Since setting sail with Shen Yuan, there had been no peace.

Smoker felt the same... but didn't dare speak up.

One sentence, and he'd be beaten again.

"Keep it moving, old man," Shen Yuan said with a grin.

"This time, I might just meet that old man with the Whitebeard himself."

Rayleigh nodded silently. The Sabaody Archipelago wasn't far — the voyage was nearing its end.

Strangely enough, Rayleigh was actually enjoying this chaotic trip.

The Roger Pirates had long since disbanded, and for the first time in years, the sea breeze reminded him of their wild, free journeys.

He glanced at Shen Yuan again.

At that moment, Shen Yuan was holding Tashigi in his left arm and Kalifa in his right.

His smug expression practically screamed: Man, what a drag.

Rayleigh: "…"

Joan came rushing out of the cabin, reporting seriously: "Captain, our food stock's running low. We only have a pile of Berries left."

Shen Yuan waved his hand lazily. "We'll restock when we get to Changlian Island."

Just then, his expression shifted subtly.

"…We're being watched."

"CP agents?" Smoker asked, a bit tense.

"Possibly. There's an unnatural aura coming from the island."

Shen Yuan remained still, quietly scanning his surroundings.

He had been training his Kenbunshoku Haki — Observation Haki — and was now developing a unique extension: aura perception.

In the One Piece world, the keys to survival boiled down to two things.

Devil Fruit ability, and physical strength.

These two categories of power were distinct but intertwined. Someone rigorously trained was nothing like a common thug.

Shen Yuan called it — Force Aura.

Right now, he could feel it clearly.

Someone — or several — were watching him.

Like a shinobi under Anbu surveillance — you always felt the net.

There was tension on all sides.

Several figures around Gaya Island, dressed as civilians, were in fact covert agents.

"Captain, Marco left us a Den Den Mushi," Joan said, holding out a pineapple-headed transceiver.

"He said to call anytime."

At that moment, Enel stood silently, absorbing the ship's atmosphere.

Especially Shen Yuan — he didn't carry himself like a mighty man at all.

For the first time, Enel felt something strange... and compelling.

Since he was setting out to sea, he needed a goal.

And Enel's goal… was to become the strongest.

---

Marine Headquarters — Marineford.

"Garp, this intel came from the World Government. What's your take?"

Sengoku handed Garp a report and leaned back, deep in thought.

Garp took it lazily — but after reading the contents, his face froze.

> Adventurer Shen Yuan killed all CP9 members and fled, evading capture.

Silence.

Sengoku's voice turned grim. "How do you think the World Government will respond?"

"…Possibly…"

Garp hesitated.

Should Shen Yuan be executed? Or would doing so provoke conflict?

Would the Marines be forced into direct opposition with the World Government… or simply play dumb?

"Maybe the Government wants him dead," Garp grunted. "Wouldn't be surprising."

"True. But so far, they haven't made a move."

"That means... they're not ready to sever ties with him."

Garp nodded slightly. The situation was complicated — not big enough for war, but not small enough to ignore.

From the Government's view, Shen Yuan had crossed a line.

"Still," Sengoku added, "the orders are clear — Marines are to mobilize and apprehend Shen Yuan alive. Do not kill. He's to be sent to Impel Down."

"…What?"

Garp crushed his rice cracker in fury.

Sengoku continued, "That's the order — for now. We're not to move until confirmation is issued."

Garp, furious a moment ago, suddenly deflated — quietly munching his crushed senbei.

"You really care about this kid, don't you?" Sengoku said.

Garp didn't reply, just kept chewing, dodging the point.

"Sengoku… I want to take a month off."

Normally, Sengoku would argue for half an hour before granting leave.

But this time, he agreed without hesitation.

"Fine. Take a long vacation. Rest."

Garp's jaw dropped in disbelief. Even the senbei crumbs fell from his hand.

"…Sengoku, what's gotten into you?"

Truthfully, Sengoku understood.

Garp's son had created the Revolutionary Army — a direct enemy of the Government.

Now, his grandson — Garp's final hope — had set out to sea as an adventurer and was already being targeted.

Sengoku knew: time was running short. Those boys needed to figure out their convictions soon.

He patted Garp on the shoulder, showing rare sympathy.

Garp: "…?"

Zeffa knocked on the door. Sengoku called him in.

"Zeffa, something on your mind?"

Zeffa's face was bleak.

"I want to retire. I've failed enough. I'm tired. I want to go home."

Sengoku's expression sank.

"The Navy needs manpower. Just finish this current batch of recruits — then you're free."

Zeffa sighed and walked away without another word.

How many more batches would it take?

Sengoku quietly wondered the same.

Zeffa's teaching ability… was leagues above the others.

Sighing again, Sengoku pulled out a Den Den Mushi — this one with a cigar pattern.

Smoker's.

"Blu-blu-blu… blu-blu-blu…"

Smoker, currently manning the helm, felt a vibration in his pocket.

He pulled out the Den Den Mushi and stared at it.

Marshal Sengoku?!

"…Hello?" Smoker answered cautiously.

"Smoker? How've you been?"

The formal greeting gave Smoker a bad feeling.

"Marshal Sengoku, is something wrong?"

"Just checking your current position."

Smoker hesitated.

His eyes flicked to Shen Yuan, reclining on a chair in the distance, eyes closed like a vacationing noble.

He then looked back at the Den Den Mushi, conflicted.

"You don't need to answer now," Sengoku said. "You have three days. If there's no reply… you'll be expelled from the Marines."

Click.

The line went dead.

Smoker looked down, struggling.

"If I had three days...

...Am I a Marine? A pirate?

...Or an adventurer?"

He closed his eyes — unsure of the answer.

But one thing was certain.

The clock was ticking.