"Little guy, don't get ahead of yourself. You only won a small duel; the road to becoming the world's strongest swordsman is still very long." Looking at Zoro, who was lying on the ground pointing his blade toward the heavens and weeping with joy, Rowan poured a bucket of cold water over him without hesitation.
In this state and still letting his emotions fluctuate like that—is he trying to shorten his own life?
By now, Zoro had stained the entire patch of bluestone pavement beneath him crimson. This level of blood loss would have seen a normal person off to the afterlife several times over.
Rowan shot a glance at Tashigi in the crowd. Understanding the signal immediately, she grabbed a medical kit from a nearby marine and came running over on her tiptoes. Even in the world of One Piece, humans can't resist the urge to watch a spectacle. With such a massive commotion, people were constantly flocking to the area. Among them were marines who had just finished their duties and were wandering the streets, making it easy for Tashigi to secure supplies.
Amidst Zoro's gritted teeth and sharp cries of pain, Tashigi quickly wrapped him up until he resembled a mummy.
"Mr. Rowan!"
Just then, Smoker arrived, having finally settled the issue of the three thousand-plus captives. On his way, he had heard rumors of a duel between Zoro and Hawkeye Mihawk, but he didn't know the specifics. Seeing Zoro covered in blood and being bundled in bandages by Tashigi, Smoker's expression remained stoic.
He had heard reports about Zoro. His assessment was that the kid was an excellent pirate hunter. What he didn't understand was why these swordsmen insisted on these pointless challenges. If they had that much energy, they'd be better off helping the Navy deal with actual criminal pirates.
Zoro was just a swordsman with a bit of fame in the East Blue; how could he possibly be a match for the world's strongest, Hawkeye Mihawk? Unsurprisingly, the kid had been crushed.
Suddenly, Smoker's expression turned grim. He spun around to face Hawkeye Mihawk, who was walking steadily toward them.
"Hawkeye Mihawk, you've already won this duel. What more do you want?" As he spoke, Smoker drew the Jitte from his back, standing ready.
Mihawk was currently radiating a massive sword aura. The tangible pressure of his intent completely enveloped Smoker's surroundings. In Smoker's eyes, Mihawk looked like an unsheathed divine blade—lethally dangerous.
But Mihawk acted as if he hadn't heard the warning. He didn't stop.
"Mihawk! I'm warning you one last time—if you don't stop, I don't care if you're a Warlord or not!" Smoker roared. The overwhelming pressure made his knuckles turn white as he gripped his weapon. It was a sign of extreme tension.
Just as Mihawk reached the distance Smoker considered his limit—prompting him to strike first—the swordsman suddenly stopped. He raised the Black Blade, Yoru, high into the air and shouted:
"Senior! I, Dracule Mihawk, today, with the honor of the World's Strongest Swordsman, challenge you to a duel! Please, grant me your guidance!"
"Challenge? Senior?"
The high-strung Smoker was momentarily dumbfounded by Mihawk's words. What is Hawkeye doing? Challenging me with the honor of the world's strongest? I'm not even a swordsman...
Wait.
No, he's not challenging me.
Following Mihawk's sharp gaze, Smoker turned his head. There, he saw Rowan's aged face, wearing its usual relaxed smile.
Rowan casually patted Smoker on the shoulder and said earnestly, "Smoky-boy, though your strength makes you someone in the East Blue, take a word of advice from the Old Man: don't think too highly of yourself sometimes. Your 'three-legged cat' skills aren't worthy of a challenge from Hawkeye-boy."
Having said that, Rowan ignored the bewildered Smoker and walked toward Mihawk.
"Hawkeye-boy, you want to challenge me?" Rowan puffed on his pipe, his expression still effortless.
To be recognized by the World's Greatest Swordsman and have him stake his honor on a challenge was the ultimate glory for any swordsman. Mihawk's declaration instantly set the crowd on fire. Screams, whistles, and a deafening roar of excitement pierced the sky.
They thought the duel of the century was over. They never dreamed it was just the beginning.
They never imagined that Mihawk, who already held the ultimate title, would actively challenge someone else—and stake his reputation as the World's Best on the outcome. Today, they were witnessing history.
According to the rules, if Mihawk lost this challenge, the title of the World's Greatest Swordsman would belong to this mysterious old man. Though the guidance he gave Zoro had proven he was a hidden master, no one expected his strength to be so great that Mihawk himself would view him as a superior to be challenged.
In the world of the sea, the challenger is usually the one with less fame or power. Since Mihawk was the one initiating, did it mean he felt his own strength was inferior to this old man?
Watching the dead-serious Mihawk and the unhurried Rowan, Smoker couldn't process the reality. What is going on? Wasn't it Zoro challenging Mihawk? Why is Mihawk suddenly challenging the Old Man?
Smoker had never seen a single piece of intel suggesting the Old Man was a world-class grandmaster. At that moment, Tashigi stepped to his side.
"Colonel Smoker, you don't know? Mr. Rowan is an incredibly powerful Grandmaster Swordsman."
"Also... the one who won that last duel wasn't Mihawk. It was Zoro."
"Zoro won?" Smoker looked back at the "mummy" Zoro who had fainted from his injuries. His mouth twitched. "He looks like a disaster and you say he won? Against Hawkeye?"
Tashigi's lips curled into a proud smile. "Mr. Rowan gave Zoro a few pointers, and then Zoro won the duel."
Smoker felt as if his brain was being eaten. He reached up to touch his head to make sure it was still there. Why can't I understand a single word she's saying?
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