Teach Makes His Move, Wiping Out the Mad Saber Pirates

Loya watched the scene, tears welling in her eyes. She covered her mouth and sobbed as they streamed down her cheeks, soaking through her clothes.

Doyle said nothing. Beneath his sleeve, his clenched fist slowly relaxed.

Outside, everyone stared in shock at what was happening inside. Teach sat cross-legged on the floor, enjoying his meal, his face alight with unconcealed pleasure. Loya was crying, while the members of the Mad Saber Pirates stood there, arrogant yet equally stunned.

After watching Teach finish every last bite of fried rice on his plate, he slowly stood up and picked up the bag that had been sitting on the table, with two bottles of rum inside.

He waved at Doyle. "Haha, Doyle, today's been a fine day. I've eaten well and had a good drink. I'll come back here for a drink sometime."

Doyle nodded warmly. "Sure, Teach. Come again next time."

Teach turned and headed outside. A huge cleaver swept toward him, its sharp serrations stopping just short of his neck. "Damn you, brat! I've had my fun, and now I'm in a foul mood. I'll use your head to calm myself down." Watching Teach's reaction, Schiller felt no satisfaction at all. He had insulted the man, yet he didn't seem to care in the slightest. More importantly, Schiller couldn't see a trace of fear in the brat's eyes. He was even ignoring him. Who are you trying to fool? At last, Schiller's fury erupted.

"Schiller's furious. That kid's done for!" someone outside said. They could feel Schiller's rage from a distance.

"What a waste if a man like that dies." The earlier events still seemed to play out before their eyes. They couldn't help but feel respect for a man who had calmly faced the threats of the infamous Schiller without so much as changing his expression.

"I've got a feeling something unexpected is about to happen!"

Teach stopped and turned to Schiller beside him. He smiled, then pointed at the blade in front of his neck. "That thing isn't meant to threaten people."

"Of course it isn't. I'm going to kill you. I want to hear you beg at my feet, screaming and wailing." Schiller licked his blood-red lips, as if he could smell blood. He grew more and more excited. He was a murderous madman, the terrifying Mad Blade Schiller.

"I take it this is your declaration of war against me?" Teach's lips curled into a faint smile. "Then are you ready to die?"

"What?" Schiller thought he'd misheard, but he couldn't make sense of what Teach meant. The others seemed just as confused. Listening, Mostima nodded, a smile on his face and a gleam in his eyes. The moment he'd been waiting for was about to arrive.

"As pirates, if you dare declare war on another crew, you should already be prepared to die in battle," Teach said slowly, without making a move.

"Damn you! Are you saying you're stronger than us? Watch your attitude, brat. Die!" One of the Mad Saber Pirates at the back shouted angrily. He drew the pistol at his waist, aimed it at Teach's head from point-blank range, and pulled the trigger.

Bang! "W-What happened?" Everyone's pupils shrank. The expected shot never came. The pirate who had aimed at Teach had his head blown apart, blood spraying everywhere.

In everyone's eyes, Teach had somehow drawn a black pistol from his waist and shot the pirate. The faint smoke rising from the muzzle made it clear that the shot had come from Teach.

The strength drained from the pirate's hand. The arm that had been pointing at Teach slowly fell, and the pistol slipped from his grasp, clattering to the ground. His eyes were wide with shock.

Thud! His body hit the floor, a deep bloody hole in his forehead. The pirates beside him felt a chill run through them and instinctively stepped back, fear in their eyes. They weren't stupid; they could tell the man before them was more than they could handle.

"When did he move?" Haduno broke into a cold sweat. His mind went blank for a moment. "That speed..."

"Is he a gunman? A top-tier gunman!"

In the New World, an ordinary gunman wasn't frightening, but a top-tier gunman was. Especially in a crew, one could provide offense, support, and cover.

"No, he's not a professional gunman. Didn't you notice the three swords at his waist?" Mostima said slowly, never taking his eyes off Teach. Since Teach wore a coat, only part of his three swords showed, but Mostima had noticed them. A gleam passed through his eyes. As a swordsman, he could sense that none of Teach's blades were ordinary. They were every bit as good as his own famous sword, Sky Splitter.

Thinking this, Mostima couldn't help running a hand over the sword at his waist.

"It was just speed, but his marksmanship is impressive too." As a swordsman, Mostima's eyesight had caught Teach's movements. He had drawn his pistol in one smooth motion, as if he'd practiced it thousands of times.

Teach was a formidable man. Even ordinary people in the New World had some strength, and although they hadn't seen his movements, they could guess what had happened. Some looked expectant. Whether pirates or civilians, some hoped Teach would defeat Schiller, while others wanted to see a newcomer rise.

In any case, Schiller wasn't well regarded on this island—or anywhere in the surrounding waters, for that matter.

He had no territory. He indulged in treasure and slaughter. These waters were close to the Whitebeard Pirates' territory, behind their domain, and the Navy rarely came around. Otherwise, the Navy would have wiped him out long ago.

"You bastard..." Schiller gritted his teeth. Even at such close range, he hadn't seen the man move. He was too fast. But what he felt most was anger. Teach had killed one of his men right in front of him—one who'd stood up for him, his most loyal subordinate aboard the ship.

It was a direct insult. If he didn't teach this man a lesson—no, he had to kill him! He'd hack his body to pieces. Only then could he quell his fury. Otherwise, he'd lose all authority. As captain, if he couldn't avenge his men, no one would follow him again.

He could feel some of his men watching him, waiting for his orders.

"He's just a gunman. Everyone, get him! How many bullets can he have? Can he kill us all?" As he spoke, Schiller drew his sword back and swung his arm in a powerful, nearly 180-degree arc, aiming for Teach's neck. With a mighty whoosh, his blow broke through the air, combining speed and force.

Hadman and Haduno exchanged wary glances. They couldn't have blocked an attack like that without getting hurt. They had to admit that Mad Blade Schiller was far stronger than either of them. Only their captain, Mostima, could beat him.

Schiller wouldn't have spent years roaming these waters unchallenged if he weren't strong.

Schiller's words roused the Mad Saber Pirates. They were all scum and trash, with little fear of death. Over the years, some of them had gone through several different sets of crewmates. Schiller had a point: there were a lot of them. The Mad Saber Pirates were small compared with other crews, with just over seventy members, but their average strength was much higher. They all crowded into the tavern, filling at least half of its spacious interior.

They were trash who lived for bloodshed and pleasure, plundering everywhere they went. When they ran out of money, they stole more, then spent it all again. They liked picking on the weak, but fought with terrifying ferocity. They were reckless troublemakers, yet few dared to stand against them.

"You dared mess with the Mad Saber Pirates? Die, brat!" "Haha, I'm taking his left hand!" "I've got dibs on his right leg. Nobody else touch it!"

They shouted arrogantly. Teach couldn't simply ignore Schiller's powerful strike; anyone who could make a name for himself on the open sea had to have some ability.

But that was all. Teach shifted sideways on instinct and dipped his head, perfectly avoiding the blow. To the others, it looked as though he'd only just managed to dodge Schiller's strike.

But to some, it seemed extraordinary. It was as if everything was under his control.

Teach frowned, irritation rising in him. These little pirates kept shouting in his ears. Of this crew, only Schiller beside him was worth noticing—and only because he was reasonably strong. Among the Whitebeard Pirates, he'd be no more than a squad leader.

Teach had ignored them because they were too weak to even merit his attention. Even a clay Bodhisattva had a temper, let alone Teach!

"Don't think too highly of yourselves, you bunch of little pirates. If you want my head, you'll need to bring an entire warship!" Teach sneered. He opened his coat and placed a hand on the hilt of Thunder Fang at his waist. A flash of light—he drew the sword and pointed it at the pirates. "Pay the price for crossing someone you shouldn't have!"

"Just an ordinary slash." Teach smiled faintly and swung once, lightly. Nothing seemed to happen.

Teach sheathed his sword. "That's your swordsmanship? Pathetic. Who are you trying to scare, brat?" Schiller pointed his sword at Teach and jeered, seeing that nothing had happened.

The tavern fell silent. Mostima's eyes flew open, his pupils contracting sharply. He'd seen that slash. "How did he do that?" he murmured, unable to believe it.

In his eyes, that seemingly casual slash had produced an astonishing result.

The invisible slash split into countless streams of sword qi, passing precisely through the bodies of the pirates. The technique didn't have much power, but it displayed exquisite control. Mostima couldn't yet control his sword qi with such precision. He'd been focused on pursuing ever greater power, but this sight seemed to open up an entirely new path for him.

Teach said nothing. Thud! Thud! Thud! One after another, the sounds rang out. Schiller's laughter cut off. He turned his head slightly as the pirates collapsed to the floor. Before long, every member of the Mad Saber Pirates except him lay on the ground.

Schiller hadn't awakened Observation Haki, but after roaming the New World for so long, he knew the signs of life well. Countless people had ended up just like these before him.

There was no life left in them. In other words, every member of the Mad Saber Pirates except him was dead—and he didn't even know how they had died. For the first time, he felt real fear deep inside. He looked at Teach's calm face and faint smile, as if Teach were laughing at him for getting worked up over nothing.

He knew he'd provoked someone he shouldn't have—someone powerful. His legs began to tremble.

But then came the anger, a fury that soared to the heavens. He took two steps toward Teach, the serrated blade in his hand pointed straight at Teach's head.

"You bastard! You actually—you actually killed them! They were my comrades!" Schiller's eyes were bloodshot. Two tears fell from his eyes.

Hearing the word "comrades" from him was bitterly ironic.

"I should thank them, really. I'd just finished eating and needed some exercise to help me digest. Then they showed up." Teach smiled, straightened, tightened the black bandana around his head, and picked up the purple cowboy hat hanging over his left shoulder, placing it on his head.

Teach's nonchalance only made Schiller angrier. "What am I supposed to do without them? Who'll share the joy of plundering with me? I can't go to sea alone. I'll be the only one to enjoy the slaughter, the only one to share in those agonized cries." Schiller spoke in anguish. Hearing him, Teach and the others realized that Schiller was a twisted lunatic.

"I'll kill you! Go join them in the afterlife!" Schiller swung again, his fury at its peak. This blow was even stronger than the last.

"Gah!" Facing the blow, Teach countered with a punch. The force of the impact made Schiller's hand go slack, and his huge serrated cleaver flew away, embedding itself in the floor.

Before Schiller could react, Teach was already in front of him. One large hand clamped around his neck. "So, can you stop jumping around in front of me like a clown?" Teach's gaze turned cold. He gripped Schiller's right arm and squeezed, while Schiller stared wide-eyed, barely able to breathe. "Since you want so badly to be with them, I'll send you to join them."

Schiller struggled to break free, but to no avail. "Thank me," Teach said quietly.

He let go. Schiller's body hit the floor, a corpse. In the eyes of everyone watching, the mighty Schiller had died so easily, unable to fight back in the slightest.