White Tiger

At that very moment.

Carl carefully observed the white tiger, noting that its fur was a snowy, pristine white, much like the White Tiger from the ancient legends of her homeland.

This reminded Carl of the beautiful scenery back home, along with her family and friends, but she knew she could never return.

She decided to name the tiger White Tiger, a tribute to her roots and a sign that she was truly beginning to integrate into the Pirate World.

"From today on, your name is White Tiger."

Carl reached out to stroke the tiger's head with a touch of nostalgia.

The White Tiger nodded, clearly accepting the name.

Since they were now partners, it shouldn't be an issue to have it fetch some food.

"White Tiger, go hunt something for us."

After a short rest, the White Tiger's injuries had improved significantly; the wound on its head had completely healed, and it was free to move about.

Hearing Carl's command, it moved instantly, leaping out of the shed in a few bounds and disappearing into the depths of the jungle to track prey.

Carl watched as the White Tiger's figure vanished into the dense woods. It was the Pirate World, after all; such severe wounds had nearly healed in no time at all.

She returned to the wooden hut and began gathering sticks and leaves, preparing to start a fire for warmth.

However, she suddenly realized she had no source of fire. Wait, how does one make fire...

She hesitated for a moment, but soon recalled the primitive method of friction fire-making. She remembered watching a video on it, and the steps should be... like this... and this...

Without further hesitation, she picked up a wooden stick, used a stone to gouge a small hole in a piece of wood, and placed some dry leaves nearby. She picked up another small branch and began rubbing it back and forth rapidly between her hands, making the stick spin at high speed.

After a dozen seconds, sparks flew, and the dry leaves caught fire.

Seeing the small flame, Carl quickly added more dry leaves, leaning down to blow on it gently, terrified that it might go out.

With Carl's careful tending, the flame grew, and in the blink of an eye, a fire was roaring.

Carl looked at her handiwork with satisfaction and a sense of pride; she never expected to experience making fire by friction.

"Awoo!"

Just then, the White Tiger returned, carrying a six-meter-long wild boar that looked like a small truck.

Carl stared intently at the boar in the tiger's mouth, her mouth watering.

Having fused with Titan Power, her body had undergone a second growth spurt, and after burning so much energy earlier, her stomach was screaming with hunger.

The White Tiger gently placed the prey on the ground and used its sharp claws to rip open the boar's belly.

The entrails spilled out, and the raw, bloody mess emitted a pungent, fishy odor. Carl frowned, feeling a bit nauseated, and quickly waved her hand in front of her nose.

"Awoo!"

Seeing the White Tiger gesturing for her to eat, Carl said with a look of disgust, "I'm not eating that. You can have it."

She quickly found a branch, dragged the boar to the other side, and skewered it.

Seeing that Carl wouldn't eat the raw meat, the White Tiger lowered its head and began chewing on the entrails with gusto.

Carl set up a large rack, placed the skewered boar on it, and stoked the bonfire to ensure it burned steadily.

Tongues of flame licked upward, gradually roasting the boar until it turned a golden, appetizing brown.

The aroma soon drifted across the island, attracting the surrounding creatures.

"Awoo!"

Hearing that roar, the animals in the forest retreated; they knew it was a warning from the forest's overlord, the White Tiger.

Soon, the boar was roasted through. She tore off a hind leg and tossed it to the White Tiger.

The White Tiger caught the leg and devoured it in a frenzy, its eyes shining with satisfaction. It had grown to this size without ever tasting cooked food, and it hadn't expected it to be so delicious.

Carl then tore off the other hind leg and began to gnaw on it. Her teeth were incredibly strong now; she could even crush the bones directly.

The meat was tender and succulent, and she ate with increasing speed, her face full of contentment.

Although there were no seasonings, there was a natural, clean fragrance—perhaps a gift from nature to this island.

The White Tiger quickly finished its hind leg. It had developed a taste for this flavor and immediately trotted over to lie down beside Carl, watching her.

"Alright, you can have this half."

Seeing that it wasn't full, or perhaps that it had simply grown fond of cooked food—since it couldn't make fire on its own—Carl used both hands to tear the roasted boar in two and tossed half to the White Tiger.

Before long, Carl and the White Tiger had finished the six-meter-long boar.

They ate with great relish, meat juices staining their mouths, smiles plastered on their faces.

Carl patted her stomach, relaxing her body in total satisfaction.

She picked up an unknown bone splinter, carefully picked the residue from between her teeth, and let out a satisfied burp while patting her belly.

After eating and drinking her fill, Carl arranged for the White Tiger to keep watch at the shed entrance, while she retreated into the small wooden hut to lie down on her makeshift bed.

The bed was covered with a layer of dry leaves.

Though crude, it was more than enough for her.

He closed his eyes, feeling his exhausted body begin to relax.

Gradually, he drifted off into a deep slumber.

While Carl was fast asleep, a large man was rowing a small boat toward the front of this nameless island.

The man was none other than Edward Newgate.

Edward Newgate had already joined the Rocks Pirates, and that night, their main ship had encountered an underwater current.

By the time he realized it, it was already too late, and to make matters worse, they were caught in a tornado; caught off guard, he was swept out to sea—a classic case of misfortune never coming singly.

He had no choice but to board a small boat, and by the time the sea calmed down, the wind and waves had blown him near this island.

Fortunately, his pirate ship shouldn't be too far away.

Soon, Newgate stepped onto the shore.

Newgate landed on the opposite side of the island from Carl, so he did not see the wooden hut Carl had built.

Newgate swung his Naginata, chopping down a few trees to build a simple bed and a shed, barely enough to shelter him from the wind and rain.

Like Carl, he had endured a night of exhaustion and longed for a good night's sleep.

"Awoo!"

The next morning, Carl was startled awake by the roar of a white tiger.

He climbed out of bed, feeling a bit groggy, and fumbled his way toward the door.

Pushing the door open, he saw a burly man standing outside, wearing a white beret and holding a long blade that looked remarkably like a Guan Dao in his right hand.

"Hey, I mean no harm."

The burly man said with a smile, his voice deep and resonant.

Carl immediately breathed a sigh of relief. He hadn't expected to encounter anyone else on this deserted island, and he assumed the man was a native inhabitant.

"Who are you?" Carl asked with some curiosity.

In his memory, this island was supposed to be completely deserted.

However, he couldn't rule out the possibility of indigenous people living here; after all, in the Pirate World, pirates ran rampant, and it was also possible that this was a refugee.

"I am Edward Newgate, and you?"

Edward Newgate laughed heartily.

"You're Whitebeard."

Carl was startled. He hadn't realized the man before him was Whitebeard; although he thought the blade looked familiar, he hadn't expected Newgate to be so young. Did that mean the start of the main storyline was still a long way off?

Whitebeard at this period was not exactly the same as the Whitebeard from decades later.

At this time, Whitebeard Newgate appeared much younger, so it was understandable that Carl hadn't recognized him immediately.

Although Carl had been an ordinary person when he first transmigrated, his Titan Power had caused his height to grow to two and a half meters. While this was far from his limit, he still looked quite short in front of Newgate, given that Newgate stood at a towering six point six meters.