Spreading the Dao in Sengoku!

Receiving no answer from Sengoku for a long time, Conrad felt a sense of desolation, though disappointment weighed heavier. His voice drifted, ethereal as a Sanskrit chant:

"Once, there was a prince of an ancient kingdom named Siddhartha. He was of noble birth and high status, and being kind and charitable, he was deeply loved by his people."

Sengoku's brow relaxed. This was the feeling—even just listening to the voice, one could sense a compassion that hung high above the clouds.

"But the suffering of the world was too heavy. Siddhartha could not save the world through his own kindness alone. Thus, without a shred of attachment, he abandoned his noble status as a prince and wandered into the world to cultivate."

Conrad turned back, golden ripples swirling in his eyes. He raised his right palm and looked straight at Sengoku. "After experiencing the pains of birth, old age, sickness, and death, he finally transcended the Five Aggregates Blazing. Beneath a Bodhi tree, he attained great enlightenment, pierced through the Six Consciousnesses, and transcended the world, giving birth to the Buddha's Light."

Sengoku's eyes widened. He saw the light. Even though Conrad had not yet struck with his palm, that aura naturally gathered behind his head, forming a halo of golden radiance.

Conrad stepped closer. "But why can you not let go? Why can you not see through it? How can you cultivate like this? Do you think I only care about the lineage? Sengoku! I am trying to help you!"

"Must one let go to cultivate the Buddha's Palm!" Sengoku suddenly grew irritable, his voice roaring in anger. "Then I would rather not cultivate it at all!"

"I am a Marine Admiral! I carry too much on my shoulders!"

Sengoku's Conqueror's Haki surged forth. The world seemed to turn into jagged lines of lightning—mellow yet wild—covering only the ten-meter radius around the small observation pavilion.

Fortunately, they were atop a mountain pillar with no one else around, causing only a flock of passing seagulls to stiffen their wings and plummet.

But Conrad did not unleash a clash of Conqueror's Haki. His expression remained one of great mercy and compassion, the Buddha's Light behind his head swirling like smoke, dispersing and reforming.

"It is not that cultivating the Buddha's Palm requires you to let go; it is that you must let go. Your obsession is a form of confusion; you have not clearly found your ultimate direction."

Enduring the pressure of Sengoku's Conqueror's Haki, Conrad said with a calm expression, "Even if you force yourself to master a few forms, once your obsession reaches its limit, you will only lose all your power because your Buddha-heart will shatter."

"What on earth are you talking about!" Sengoku finally lost control, grabbing Conrad by the collar. "How could something I've learned ever be lost!"

"Presumptuous! How dare you lay hands on your master!" Conrad's expression suddenly turned into that of a wrathful Vajra, his golden eyes glaring at Sengoku without flinching.

He knew well that in cultivating martial arts, the most important thing is to find the right path. Once you move forward toward a goal, you must remain steadfast on that path.

The moment you begin to negate your own path, your martial arts will not advance an inch, and your state of mind may even collapse, leading to grave consequences.

Sengoku let go; he was, after all, an old man.

Though he had been feeling restless lately—what with his foster son being sent to prison and his own struggles with the Buddha's Palm—he shouldn't have taken his frustrations out on a child of the Marines.

"How many forms are there in the Buddha's Palm?"

"Nine forms," Conrad said, closing his eyes slightly.

"Nine forms?!" Sengoku was shocked.

He had only barely managed to learn the form of the first half-style, yet it had already made him feel as if he had returned to his prime, recalling the days when he and Garp fought against the Golden Lion.

Conrad nodded with his hands pressed together. "That is correct, but even I have only cultivated up to the seventh form—'Heavenly Buddha Descends to the World'."

Sengoku was truly stunned. Could mastering the Buddha's Palm really allow one to suppress the Four Emperors as Conrad claimed? One had to remember that there were currently three Emperors of the Sea.

Whitebeard, Kaido, and Big Mom.

If he could truly fight three against one, this Great Pirate Era would surely end by his hand.

Sengoku pondered for a long time, then smiled with a mix of dignity and kindness. "Child, let us make a deal."

"No," Conrad refused decisively. He let his hands fall to his sides and recalled, "You are still too worldly. To see someone stubborn and offer them enlightenment and help should not come with a price."

He couldn't help but think back to when he sat in a bookstore reading manga, scratching his head because he couldn't read, and the kind brothers and sisters who would come and go to read the words and explain them to him.

Sengoku's eyebrows twitched. He, a dignified Admiral, had proposed a deal, only to be rejected without even knowing the conditions. He couldn't fathom Conrad's thoughts at all, just as he couldn't grasp the first form.

Sengoku said with a gentle, kind expression, "I have heard that you are an orphan, and you saved Rosinante's life. After much thought, how about I adopt you?"

Conrad was slightly taken aback, looking at Sengoku in disbelief. He hadn't expected this old man to offer him a home, and he had indeed never experienced what it felt like to have a grandfather.

Curiosity piqued, he nodded and said, "Alright!"

Sengoku was overjoyed, opening his arms. "Good! Then from—"

"But you must become my disciple first," Conrad stepped back, his expression serious. "You call me Master, and I call you Grandpa. We shall keep our roles separate. Seniority and lineage are very important; they must not be muddled."

Sengoku's arms froze in mid-air. He felt as if his brain had been struck by lightning; the words "my dear grandson" refused to leave his lips.

Looking at the Buddha's Light behind Conrad's head, it seemed to merge with his hair, turning red and transforming into a demonic glow.

Conrad turned and headed down the mountain. He had already seen that the old man's state of mind was insufficient—not even three-tenths of the realm of the ancient Prince Siddhartha. Practicing in this state would be futile.

It was equivalent to having to spend several minutes finding his "state" before every strike of the Buddha's Palm.

Sengoku hurried to catch up. He was so troubled that, after much hesitation, he bowed his head and smiled, "Could you strike me with that palm once more?"

Conrad understood. He wanted to steal the technique. But Conrad was not a stingy person; only those with limited knowledge feared having their techniques stolen. His mind was a library, and he only wished to spread the Way to the world.

He suddenly turned, his gestures instantly falling into place. "Sigh... very well! Everyone has their own fate! Since you do not wish to hear me preach the Way, then I shall pass on the technique! I only hope you do not blame me in the future!"

The Buddha's Light bloomed, and afterimages rotated with his palms.

"Buddha's Palm, First Form! Buddha's Light Emerges!"

Clap!

The Buddha's palm struck Sengoku's large hand. At that same moment, Sengoku transformed into his Great Buddha form, drawing on the inspiration to strike out with the first form, clashing palms with Conrad.

In this clash, they were evenly matched.

Yet, Conrad suddenly pressed his hands together in a mudra, his index fingers resting on his middle fingers. Haki surged between his middle fingers like a candle flame, and his hand seal served as the lamp.

"Second Form of the Buddha's Palm! Golden Summit Buddha Lamp!!"

BOOM~!

Golden flames of Haki ignited from his fingertips, erupting from the dharma body of Conrad. If the previous move was merely an opening, this second strike was a killing blow!

It represented Siddhartha attaining Buddhahood and entering the world, only to witness mountains of corpses and rivers of blood. His Buddha-heart flared with righteous indignation, igniting the fire of wrath to sever the roots of worldly calamity!

Sengoku was engulfed in the flames. Under the heat of this Haki, he felt like a tyrannical bandit steeped in sin, encountering a true Buddha whose sorrow and rage had come to subdue him.

His white Admiral's cape, stained with gold, began to slowly melt away.

The Armament Haki he had layered over his Devil Fruit powers was actually being burned through!