One Piece: Surrounded at Marineford? Just kidding!

Chapter 33 A Familiar Feeling, A Call from the Future!

As the laughter subsided, the elderly white-bearded man suppressed his once-powerful, ocean-shaking passion.

His tall frame turned around, his deep gaze passing over Marco and Chenye, looking towards the other side of the island.

From there, the faint sounds of a banquet and cheers could be heard.

That was his family, holding a grand banquet to bid farewell to Oden, a celebration filled with both reluctance and blessings.

"Look back."

The white-bearded man's deep voice rang out without the slightest hesitation.

"We can't let those brats find out, it'll cause unnecessary commotion."

Marco nodded immediately. He knew very well the terrifying chaos that would ensue if the existence of two "whitebeards" in the same era were exposed.

Chen Ye didn't say anything, but silently followed behind the two.

Instead of heading towards the bustling port, the three of them quietly circled the edge of the island and made their way to the other side.

The further away you are from the center of the banquet, the quieter it becomes.

The sound of waves crashing against the rocks replaced the noisy music and laughter.

The salty sea breeze carried away the rich aroma of wine.

Finally, they stopped at the foot of a towering cliff.

This is the most remote corner of the entire island, with jagged rocks and few people.

Whitebeard raised his head and looked up at the top of the cliff.

Marco and Chenye also looked up in the direction of his gaze.

At the very top of the cliff, near the edge, sat a towering figure, as imposing as a mountain, all alone.

He had his back to them, facing the boundless blue sea.

Her long, golden hair, like a lion's mane, fluttered freely in the sea breeze.

The captain's coat, which wasn't worn but casually draped over his back, had a purple skull logo on the back that stood out so vividly and imposingly in the sunlight.

Beside him was a huge gourd, taller than a person.

He didn't turn around, nor did he make a sound.

Even just a glimpse of his back exuded a terrifying aura that could make everything submit.

That wasn't a deliberately released pressure, but rather his very existence, which was equivalent to the rules of this ocean.

But beneath this domineering aura, Chen Ye keenly sensed something entirely different.

It was a kind of... lingering sense of loss.

It's a feeling of sadness and reluctance to part with a close friend.

His emotions at this moment were like a dormant volcano, calm on the outside but accumulating within a vast, unreleased power and emotion capable of burning the entire world to ashes.

Marco's breathing became somewhat rapid involuntarily.

He looked at that figure from behind, then at his elderly "father" beside him, and an unprecedented sense of temporal and spatial disorientation assaulted his perception.

He recognized that figure all too well.

That was the man he had followed his whole life, at his most spirited and invincible.

"Gurala la la..."

The white-bearded man beside him let out a low chuckle.

The laughter carried a hint of nostalgia and a touch of self-deprecation.

He looked at himself on the cliff as if he were looking at a sulking child.

Chen Ye quietly walked to the white-bearded man's side and looked up at his weathered face.

He didn't suggest how to get up there, nor did he ask what to do next.

He spoke softly, in a tone of utmost trust.

"Dad."

"Say hello to your past self in your own way."

Marco was startled by what he heard and instinctively tried to stop him.

greet?

How should I greet someone?

How do you greet your dad in that state?

That was the peak-form Whitebeard, who was currently seething with anger!

Any malicious provocation could lead to a catastrophe!

However, the elderly white-bearded man showed none of Marco's concerns.

He understood what Chen Ye meant.

He grinned, revealing a playful smile.

"Gurala la la la..."

"That's true."

"We can't just walk up there like that, it'll scare the old folks who've been there before."

The words fell.

He slowly raised his right hand, which was marked by the passage of time.

There was no power buildup.

There was no exaggerated display.

There wasn't even a trace of domineering aura about it.

He casually threw a punch forward at the empty sky.

Om-!

There was no earth-shattering noise.

It lacked the overwhelming power of an earthquake.

There wasn't even any visible cracking in the air.

An invisible wave gently emanated from his fist.

That wasn't a "spacequake" capable of destroying everything.

Instead, it is a... "information".

A unique personal mark that only "Whitebeard" can sense.

This vibrational force was extremely weak, yet incredibly pure.

It bypassed the rocks and passed through the trees without causing the slightest damage to anything around it.

It was like a messenger, carrying greetings from the future, drifting silently toward the top of the cliff in a way that transcended the rules of physics.

Marco held his breath; he could feel the force brushing past him.

That feeling... it's so familiar.

That's the power of Dad!

It's the power of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit!

But there are some differences.

At his peak, Dad's power was violent, destructive, and domineering, like a tsunami that wanted to devour everything.

The tremor before us, however, carried a sense of restraint and composure that had been tempered by the passage of time.

It's as if they've seen through everything and returned to simplicity.

Chen Ye's lips curled up slightly.

he knows.

My plan is already halfway to success.

Appearance can be faked!

Voices can be imitated!

But this unique personal imprint, originating from the deepest part of one's soul and the power of the fruit, is an "indispensable code" that can never be imitated.

This greeting was more direct than any words.

It is saying—

"I am coming."

……

At the top of the cliff.

The sea breeze howled.

At his peak, Whitebeard tilted his head back and poured the strong liquor from the huge gourd down his throat like a waterfall.

Spicy liquor slid down his lips, soaking the crescent-shaped beard on his chest.

His gaze was fixed on the boundless sea, yet unfocused.

In his mind, the image of that bastard in the straw hat clinging to his leg, begging with snot and tears streaming down his face, still lingered not long ago.

"I'm leaving Oden in your care, Roger."

He spoke so casually.

But in his heart, he was so frustrated that he wanted to turn the entire ocean upside down.

Just then.

His movements suddenly stopped.

The act of pouring the wine stopped.

A flicker of extreme astonishment flashed in those eyes, as sharp as a hawk's.

He slowly put down the gourd of wine in his hand.

Because he sensed a fluctuation.

A wave that was both incredibly familiar and utterly unfamiliar.

The fluctuation was coming from below the cliff.