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Chapter 441: Tearing Off a Car Door to Face a Machine Gun
"It's an ambush!"
Whitebeard roared, his incredibly seasoned combat experience saving their lives in that split second. He chose not to force his way through the blockade. In this mortal body, a few rifle rounds would be enough to send him straight to his grave. With bulging veins straining against his thick arms, Whitebeard forcefully jerked the motorcycle's handlebars. The tires dragged across the asphalt, leaving a screeching trail of black rubber before the motorcycle slammed directly into an abandoned Jeep parked sideways along the curb. The sheer momentum launched Whitebeard through the air. The man hailed as the strongest in the world tumbled helplessly across the concrete, rolling three times before his back slammed heavily against a concrete pillar on the bridge.
"It's those sly Marine veterans!" Whitebeard spat out a mouthful of saliva mixed with dirt. Without a moment's hesitation, he drew two heavy, large-caliber revolvers from his waist.
Marco's reaction was just as fast. He shoved the motorcycle aside, grabbed Jozu, and lunged behind the cover of the wrecked Jeep. The instant they ducked behind the vehicle, a torrential barrage of machine-gun fire swept over from the toll station.
"Don't let them reach the Safe Zone!" Sakazuki's eyes were bloodshot.
Half-crouched behind the toll station's window, the Marine Admiral pressed his weight heavily against the stock of the M249 Light Machine Gun. As he held the trigger down relentlessly, the hundred-round ammo belt depleted at terrifying speeds. Thick brass casings clattered fiercely against the concrete floor, kicking up trails of blue smoke. This kind of modern firearm—capable of inflicting devastating destruction with just the pull of a trigger and zero physical exertion—perfectly filled the void left by his lost Mag-Mag Fruit.
The screech of tearing metal echoed across the entire bridge. The Jeep hiding Whitebeard and his sons was riddled with holes within seconds. The windows shattered completely, and the car doors were littered with bullet holes the size of a finger. Marco was a half-beat too slow to duck. A stray bullet punched straight through the trunk and tore past his right shoulder, violently ripping away a large chunk of bloody flesh. His iconic blue shirt was instantly dyed a spreading crimson.
The intense agony made Marco suck in a sharp breath. He slumped against the tire, panting heavily. It had been over a decade since he last experienced such a raw, burning, tearing pain.
"Without my Phoenix flames, a wound like this is lethal!" Marco grit his teeth, a fine layer of cold sweat breaking out across his forehead.
If they were back in the outside world, a burst of blue-yellow flames would rise, and a flesh wound like this wouldn't even take half a second to heal. But here, the bleeding simply wouldn't stop. Forgetting his image, he ripped off the bottom hem of his shirt. He used the strip of cloth to tightly bind his bleeding shoulder, tying it off in a dead knot under his armpit.
The air was thick with the pungent stench of gunpowder and fresh blood. The hood of the Jeep was already smoking black. Sengoku fired in terrifyingly precise bursts, deliberately locking down any angle they could peek from. Kuzan was flanking them, providing covering fire with a submachine gun. Meanwhile, Sakazuki's light machine gun mowed them down like a literal lawnmower, suppressing them so heavily they couldn't even lift their heads. Staying pinned down on the open bridge was a death sentence. The blue-purple Blue Zone was rapidly approaching from behind.
"GIVE ME COVERING FIRE!" Whitebeard suddenly roared from behind the concrete pillar.
A flash of reckless desperation gleamed in his Haki-filled eyes. I don't even fear the grandest oceans! You think I'll let a few Marines with guns pin me down here?
Hearing their father's order, Marco and Jozu didn't hesitate for a second. They understood Whitebeard too well. Jozu raised his AKM Assault Rifle, and Marco pulled a UMP45 Submachine Gun from his lower back. The two men simultaneously leaned out from both sides of the Jeep's wreckage, fearlessly pulling their triggers against the Marines' dense hail of bullets. Bang! Bang! Bang! Rat-tat-tat! The muzzle of Marco's gun bucked wildly from the recoil, but the wild suppressing fire still forced Sakazuki to duck. Jozu's AKM packed an incredible punch, with several rounds completely shredding the tires of the abandoned truck Kuzan was hiding behind.
In that minuscule window when the Marines' suppressing fire faltered, Whitebeard moved.
He holstered his revolvers and pulled a cylindrical green metal canister from his tactical vest. It was a military-issue smoke grenade he had scavenged. With his thick fingers, Whitebeard yanked the pin. Without even needing a running start, he relied purely on his monstrous arm strength to hurl the grenade across the dozens of meters, landing it precisely in the middle of the road between them and the toll station.
Hsssss—
Accompanied by a sharp pop, dense white smoke rapidly billowed and expanded across the bridge. The strong sea breeze whipped the smoke into a sprawling white curtain that completely blinded Akainu and the others in seconds. Their scopes were entirely filled with white.
"BLIND FIRE! DON'T STOP!" Sengoku ripped the communicator off his neck and screamed at the top of his lungs.
His instincts as the Resourceful General were screaming at him. With their line of sight completely severed, ceasing fire meant handing the initiative straight to the enemy. Sakazuki clenched his jaw and squeezed the M249's trigger down hard. Bullets blindly tore into the heavy white smoke, making it impossible to tell if they hit anything. The only sounds were the sharp clangs of bullets striking steel and fleeting sparks flashing within the fog. No one knew where the Whitebeard Pirates were hiding.
The moment Sengoku paused to reload, a heavy, overwhelmingly oppressive series of footsteps echoed from within the impossibly thick smoke. The harsh grind of military boots crushed brass casings against the asphalt. The footsteps were closing in at an astonishing speed, like a frenzied beast charging through the fog. Sengoku's pupils violently contracted. Without even bothering to slap a new magazine into his M416, he immediately drew the pistol from his drop-leg holster.
A colossal silhouette forcibly tore through the dense white curtain. It was a monster that no mere bullets could stop. Whitebeard, Edward Newgate.
The nearly seven-meter-tall giant carried no firearms. Relying entirely on his terrifying physique and honed arm strength, he ripped a heavy, bulletproof car door clean off the wrecked Jeep. Using the pitted, bullet-riddled door as a shield of despair, he held it securely in front of him. A dozen machine-gun rounds slammed fiercely against the door, erupting into brilliant sparks, yet failing to pierce the thick steel plating. Whitebeard's leg muscles coiled tight like the ancient roots of an old tree. Bracing against the metal sheet, he roared and charged the Marine blockade like an out-of-control heavy bulldozer.
Crash! The aluminum alloy boom gate blocking the toll station snapped and bent completely in half under the combined weight of Whitebeard and the car door. Shrapnel flew into the sky. Whitebeard's face, etched with pure rage and arrogance, magnified infinitely before Sengoku's eyes. Discarding the severely deformed car door, Whitebeard pulled back a fist the size of a sandbag. Carrying the momentum of wind and thunder, he drove it straight toward Sengoku's face.
"BRING IT ON! SENGOKU!"
The deafening roar overpowered even the thunderous gunfire. In this exact moment, modern weaponry and tactical suppression were utterly crushed by the most primal, raw violence.
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Back in the tavern of Foosha Village.
Sitting behind the bar, Blake stared at the holographic projection suspended in the air with profound interest. His slender fingers tapped lightly against the solid wood countertop.
"The old man's blood still runs as hot as ever."
Blake took a sip of his coffee, a faint smile flashing in the depths of his eyes. On this island where even the Four Emperors could bleed, these untouchable big shots were finally forced to reveal the fiercest, most feral instincts buried deep within their bones.
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