Sengoku, Take Me As Your Master

Back in the days before Conrad had started primary school, he was illiterate, so he could only look at manga when he went to the bookstore.

Although he couldn't read the words and didn't understand the plot, he practiced martial arts for several years by mimicking the movements in the comics.

This laid a profound foundation for his subsequent martial arts attainments.

Geniuses who appear once in a generation are often like this.

But it was a pity that heaven envies the talented; the punishment he suffered at the orphanage caused him to lag behind in cultivating his internal mental arts, leading him to the brink of qi deviation while practicing external techniques.

By the time he finally filled that gap, he had already missed the optimal period for nourishing his marrow and bones, and it wasn't until the year before he transmigrated that he barely managed to accumulate enough true qi to circulate through his meridians.

At this moment, Conrad closed his eyes to look inward, his mind following the flow of qi, sensing the Haki within his body.

It was divided into two streams: the upper followed the Heart-Freezing Art, anchoring in his brain, while the middle followed the Imperial Classic of World Governance, coursing through his heart.

Once the Haki began to surge, Conrad opened his eyes, stepped into the Wind God Leg stance, and began to strike with the Whale-Slaying Tyrant Fist.

His martial arts did not rely solely on meditation; his qi moved with his body, training both inside and out, all with the goal of strengthening his power and speed to deliver the hardest, most refined, and most ferocious attacks!

Black-red Haki boiled on the surface of his skin, making the boy's body look like a flame demon.

Before long, he was drenched in sweat, his mouth dry and parched.

Conrad's entire body felt parched like wind-dried meat; he grabbed a bottle of milk by the bedside, tilted his head back to gulp it down in one go, and then summoned his strength to continue training.

When his Haki was exhausted, Conrad began his basic routine of push-ups, squats, and pull-ups, finally finishing with a wall-sit to train his endurance.

Wiping the sweat that had stung his eyes, he watched the droplets roll down his forehead and face to drip onto the floor, Conrad tugging at his soaked shirt.

"I have no clothes left to change into; I need to buy a couple of tank tops to wear while working out."

Knock, knock.

The door was tapped.

"It's just me, the door's unlocked, come in." Conrad stood up, unfolded the dining table, and took out plates and the chopsticks he had carved from bamboo.

Baby-5, wearing her maid outfit, gently pushed the door open, carrying a large bucket of rice in her left hand and two fragrant roasted chickens and a full box of side dishes in her right. "Time to eat!"

"Why are you wearing that outfit again?" Conrad took off his sweat-soaked shirt, revealing his well-defined, blood-engorged upper body.

"I've always dressed like this." Baby-5 rested her elbows on the table, cupping her face in her hands. "I think it looks pretty good, don't you?"

Conrad picked up his bowl and grabbed some food. "It looks good, sure, but this is what servants wear."

"As long as it looks good, that's fine." Baby-5 giggled, picked up Conrad's sweat-soaked clothes, threw them into a basin, and carried them to the faucet to wash. "Other than shooting guns, this is all I know how to do, and I like doing it for you."

Amidst the sound of splashing water, Conrad devoured his meal. "Didn't Kujaku come today?"

There was no doubt that Kujaku was footing the bill for all this food and drink, but since he was already in debt, it didn't matter if he owed a little more; he would just repay her double once he made it big, so there was no need to worry.

"She came." Baby-5 answered while scrubbing. "She ran into an old man on the way to the main gate and got stuck there chatting, so she told me to go ahead."

Conrad grunted an acknowledgment and continued to eat, but as he ate, his hand suddenly stopped, because a massive aura had descended like a shadow, locking onto him.

Kujaku's figure arrived at the door first, followed closely by an old man in a solemn military uniform, his chest covered in medals.

"Conrad, let me introduce you. This is Grandpa Sengoku, a friend of my grandmother's. Grandpa Sengoku said he had something to discuss with you, so I brought him along."

Sengoku wore black-rimmed glasses, and the beard on his chin was braided like a plait, hanging straight down to his stomach.

He squinted his eyes and smiled kindly. "Haha, hello there, young man."

Conrad set down his bowl, pressed his hands to his knees, and said solemnly, "You've finally come. I've been waiting for you."

Sengoku was somewhat surprised. "You knew I was coming to find you?"

He was Rosinante's foster father, and he had come to ask the boy about the situation, but the relationship between father and son was a secret; few people in the Navy knew about it, otherwise, the undercover mission could not have succeeded.

"None of that matters; what matters is that I have been waiting for you." Conrad's expression was unprecedentedly serious, his temperament seemingly as steady as a mountain as he sat on the lower bunk of the dormitory, scrutinizing Sengoku.

Sengoku furrowed his brows. He was a dignified Navy Admiral; one could say that aside from the mostly hands-off Fleet Admiral Kong, he was the person with the most real power in the Navy.

If it weren't for the fact that Rosinante refused to disclose the whereabouts of the Op-Op Fruit, he wouldn't have come to Conrad for information.

He opened his mouth, preparing to ask Conrad to go to his office for a private chat.

But he saw Conrad raise a hand. "Kujaku, Baby-5, you two head out for a moment. I have something to discuss in detail with Fleet Admiral Sengoku."

"Okay!" Baby-5 carried the laundry basin and ran out. "Excuse me, old man, please move aside."

The atmosphere grew increasingly bizarre, and Sengoku was a bit confused—though, given his explosive hairstyle, it was hard for him to be "confused" in the literal sense anyway.

Once the door closed, Conrad pointed to the lower bunk opposite him. "Please, sit."

"I am not the Fleet Admiral; I am merely an Admiral." Sengoku pulled his cape, his massive, uniformed frame hunching over as he sat down.

"You will be sooner or later, it won't take long." Conrad said dismissively. "Whatever business you have with me, speak."

Sengoku's expression was strange, as if he were a guest on the boy's home turf, looking at the shirtless boy whose build wasn't even as thick as his own two arms combined.

"On Minion Island, you must have seen the child to whom Rosinante fed the Op-Op Fruit, right?"

"I saw him." Conrad nodded.

"I need to understand his movements." The higher-ups of the World Government had been urging Sengoku to deliver the Op-Op Fruit, a transaction worth a full five billion Beli.

One must realize that the bounty of Whitebeard, the world's strongest man, is only five billion forty-six million berries, which shows just how much importance the higher-ups place on this.

"I don't know," Conrad shook his head.

Sengoku's expression turned stern; he wrinkled his nose and pushed up his glasses. "Child, come with me. We will perform a hypnosis to help you recall; rest assured, it will cause you no harm."

"Hold on, we can discuss that later," Conrad remained composed, for his heart was currently settled in an experience as still as an ancient well.

"Right now, there are three things I must tell you."

"Hm?" Sengoku was completely unable to comprehend why a strange child he had never met before would have three things to tell him.

Conrad did not wait for a response and continued, "First, I do not meet the age requirements for Marine enlistment; you will handle that for me."

Sengoku was stunned, but since it was not a difficult task, he nodded and said, "Fine."

"Second, the current disciplinary issues within the Marines are severe. I hope you will assist me in reforming them together."

"Child, some things are not as simple as you think," Sengoku shook his head, feeling that this was just a naive, foolish boy and there was no need to say more.

At this moment, a flash ignited in Conrad's eyes, and his aura suddenly expanded in an incomparably majestic direction.

"Third, and most importantly, kneel down first. I want you to take me as your master."

Sengoku stood up in a flash, flying into a rage; his patience, too, had its limits.

"The Human-Human Fruit, Model: Buddha is a complete waste in your hands! You aren't even utilizing ten percent of its power!"

Conrad sat like a mountain, his left palm held toward the sky and his right finger pointing to the earth; his voice seemed to carry the echoes of a great bell, profound and mysterious.

"This master has a set of invincible palm techniques to teach you! Once you have mastered them, even if the Four Emperors arrive together, you will be able to suppress them without mercy!"

Sengoku saw that golden light was faintly emerging from Conrad's palm, and the Haki rippling behind his head formed a halo, looking exactly like his own Mythical Zoan form.

He stood there with his mouth agape: "A palm technique?"

"The first form of the Buddha's Palm! Buddha's Light Emerges!"

Conrad assumed a look of compassion for all living things, his left palm suddenly emitting golden light, rotating with overlapping shadows as he struck directly at the crown of Sengoku's head.