The Seven Warlords of the Sea varied in strength, but compared to ordinary pirates, they were undoubtedly immensely powerful.
Yet compared to the commanders of the Whitebeard Pirates, the Seven Warlords of the Sea held no overwhelming advantage.
For instance, Jinbe, who had previously been one of the Seven Warlords of the Sea, and even Ace, who had refused their invitation, were both pirates at the level of the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
In other words, Whitebeard's commanders were roughly on par with the Seven Warlords of the Sea.
And now, Jozu, the third-ranked commander, had been unable to withstand even a single slash from Dracule Mihawk. If Whitebeard had not intervened, he would likely have been cut cleanly in two.
Did that not mean that any other Seven Warlord of the Sea would have been dealt with by a single slash from Dracule Mihawk?
Doflamingo's face darkened. He turned away, silently deciding that he would never provoke Dracule Mihawk lightly again.
Who knew how far that man's strength had reached? That slash just now had looked like a casual strike.
Whitebeard gripped the naginata in his hand and looked at Dracule Mihawk, a trace of solemnity flashing through his eyes.
He had heard of Dracule Mihawk's title as the world's greatest swordsman before, but he had never fought him. The title of Seven Warlord of the Sea alone had made him instinctively look down on Dracule Mihawk.
How much promise could a brat who accepted the World Government's recruitment possibly have? His reputation was probably mostly exaggerated.
But that slash just now had completely dispelled that notion. He had even sensed something familiar within that sword energy.
Shanks, whom he had fought in the past, possessed that same sharp aura in his sword energy—the kind that could