Barlow's attack was completely different from before.
He no longer used the probing techniques of the Uchiha Style Swordsmanship to begin his attack, nor did he deliberately match the rhythm of Dean's injury. The tip of his blade pointed diagonally downwards, and the White Wax Wood hilt remained as steady as an anchor in his hand.
Dean was still kneeling, the numbness in his left shoulder hadn't subsided, and the blood from his hand had soaked through the black cloth wrapped around the hilt of his sword, but he stood up, leaning on his sword—an instinct that a swordsman must maintain in his final moments.
"Let's continue."
A cold glint flashed on Barlow's blade, and the moonlight illuminated the dents and cracks the size of soybeans on the edge.
Barlow raised the knife to shoulder level, with the tip pointing upwards.
"Uchiha Style: Moonfall."
This is the most precise finishing move in the Uchiha Style for dealing with the endgame. The blade tip thrusts downwards from a high place, with a short, vertical trajectory, specifically designed to deal with opponents who are already injured but still trying to defend.
Dean raised his knife to parry, and as the two blades clashed, the gash in his hand finally split open completely, blood spurting from his palm onto his clothes. The hilt slipped from his hand in the blood and flew towards the end of the plank road.
For the first time in his life, he couldn't hold a knife.
Barlow's knife stopped three inches from his throat, the coldness of the blade against his skin. Dean felt only a thin layer of air between the cold metal and his Adam's apple. But he found himself not instinctively holding his breath.
He suddenly felt relieved.
The sea breeze blew in from the end of the pier, blowing his loose hair to his forehead. The seabirds perched on the railing of the boardwalk were startled by the wind and took flight. The sound of their wings brushed past Dean's ears, and he suddenly remembered another night.
On his first voyage as the Raging Lion Pirates, Lane stood at the bow and said, "Our first target is to rob a shipment of rum from a Navy supply ship."
He was standing on the deck, still recovering from a wry smile, when he asked, "Did you drag me along just to drink?"
Lane turned to look at him, the moon casting a silver path across the sea. "No, it's to tell the Navy that my Raging Lion Pirates are officially established today. One day, our flag will fly over every port in the East Blue. Until then, do you dare to walk this path with me?"
Dean didn't answer at the time, but that night as he lay in bed, he finally remembered the original answer—the one he hadn't uttered after leaving the military court.
He's no longer in the Navy, but he's still Dean.
"What is your leader's name?" Barlow asked.
"Lane." A slight smile finally appeared on Dean's lips as he uttered the name.
"He's the most reckless man I've ever met, and also the most innocent pirate."
Barlow didn't bring his knife down. He stared into Dean's eyes, eyes that held something he'd seen at countless negotiating tables: at the end of vision lay conviction, and at the end of conviction lay someone worth dying for.
"Is there anything else you want to say?"
"Your men are quite well-trained," Dean said, his tone returning to that of a reliable first mate.
"They just lack a bit of vigilance."
Barlow nodded.
Dean remained kneeling, slowly reaching down to pull an old leather water pouch from his waist. It had old naval insignia sewn onto the edge of the flap.
He unscrewed the cap, took a sip of water, and then placed the water pouch on the edge of the wooden plank of the platform, like setting up chess pieces.
His sword had long since fallen from his hand and lay not far away, the moonlight illuminating the worn naval-style blade markings.
He took one last look at the knife, then looked over Barlow's shoulder at the starry sky above Orange Town, which was tinged with a faint purple by the remnants of miasma.
"Lane..."
His voice became so soft that Barlow had to look down to hear it.
"I'm docking now..."
"Those cages... I can't open them..."
"Walk on... the lion in the rain... still a lion..."
Barlow's knife flashed.
As Dean fell, a small cloud of wood chips rose from the walkway.
He lay on his side next to his sword, which had slipped from his grasp, his right hand still holding the sword.
Barlow sheathed his sword and looked down at Dean, the former Navy lieutenant commander, Raging Lion Pirates, and "Yin Blade" with a bounty of 88 million, lying dead on the cobblestone street of Orange Town under a flag he didn't recognize.
The sounds of fighting in the distant alleys ceased, and Orange Town fell silent once more.
Barlow looked up at the red and white Fan Flag still fluttering at the end of the dock. The flag had been pierced by Celysia's bullet, but it still fluttered as the sea breeze blew in.
He picked up the old leather water pouch that had fallen beside Dean.
This is the old Navy water bladder that Dean just drank the last drop of water from; the edges of the flip cover are severely worn.
Barlow found himself instinctively assessing its material and origin as he looked at it; it was an old model from several years ago, made of the Goa Kingdom supply line, with double-stranded waxed thread, only one grade lower than the standard patching material of his merchant guild.
He processed the unusual emotions by analyzing the data, then gently placed the water pouch back beside Dean and turned to walk toward the brightly lit town center.
Outside the Chamber of Commerce, Koldo was crouching behind cover, holding a musket. A corner of his vest collar had been torn off by a stray bullet, and his hair was still neatly combed, but the left half was covered in gravel dust.
When Barlow pushed aside the broken wooden planks blocking his way and stepped out, Koldo fired his gun. But when he saw that it was his boss, he breathed a sigh of relief and tucked the musket into his belt.
Where's Mila?
"They headed towards the Red Skull direction. The female sniper's body has been found, and Rosa and her men have collected her equipment fragments."
As he spoke, Koldo followed Barlow quickly across the street, skirting the still-burning fragments of cargo containers and scattered cables.
His leather shoes trod more clumsily than usual on the bullet casings and broken tiles, but his report remained clear and organized.
"The fighting in the town is basically under control. Someone just said they saw Mr. Roy stand up at the end of the old alleyway. He was a little unsteady on his feet but was still walking."
"He's probably been poisoned." Barlow quickened his pace.
"Rosa is already organizing a medical team to rush to the old alley area, using the town government's emergency route. They're going around behind the banyan tree, avoiding the main street of the tavern, and cutting directly into the alley from the shantytown."
Koldo knew the routes by heart, and Barlow glanced at him with the same look he gave him when he saw Cordot with the quarterly flight analysis on the corner of his desk in the office.
Those with real talent will reveal themselves; this is the nature of the Uchiha retainers.
"Ando is taking care of the wounded; the town hall has been converted into a temporary bandaging station; Joey has cleared out the tavern for the lightly wounded to rest; the old ship's cook has replaced his seafood pot with a boiling water sterilizer and is constantly peeling garlic and chopping ginger in his own kitchen. And..."
He suddenly slowed his tone, no longer using the hurried manner he used when rushing around on a mission.
"The strategist sent word from the direction of White Wax Island that a battle has also broken out near the White Wax Island's docks. The situation is unclear, but Mr. Damian has already headed towards the docks."
Barlow paused for a moment, then continued walking for less than half a second. But in that half-second, Koldo saw his boss's back muscles twitch beneath his dark blue coat.
How long will it take for Roy and Mila to recover their fighting strength?
Rosa said that the toxin samples from Lowell's body were being sent back to the Chamber of Commerce's laboratory by Miss Mila's arrangements. They had previously treated similar cases of miasma poisoning when treating patrol members, and their basic antidote stockpile was sufficient. Mr. Roy was seriously injured but in good physical condition and should be fully conscious within an hour or two. Miss Mila was personally sorting through the remaining gunpowder and gun fragments recovered from the roof. She had already stated in advance that if immediate support for White Wax Island was needed, she could prepare a speedboat and all available personnel within twenty minutes.
Barlow nodded.
The Uchiha Trading Company's orders spread silently through Orange Town in the dead of night.
Patrol Team Two was reorganized, and Team Three took over the dock defense area and sent the awakened wounded to the town hall in batches; Rosa led a team through the shantytown and around to the end of the old alley to pull Roy, whose face was purplish-blue, out of the crack in the stone slabs; Joey cleaned the bar counter and turned it into a temporary bandaging station; the old ship cook carried a pot of freshly prepared seafood stew from the kitchen into the alley and ladled a spoonful of hot soup into each of the wounded.
Barlow stopped at the fork in the road between the dock and the town center.
On one side is Orange Town, where the docks need to be redeployed and it's necessary to ensure that no remnants of the Raging Lion Pirates rush out from the alleys.
On the other side is the sea, towards White Wax Island, with no lights or flag signals.
He couldn't let anything happen to White Wax Island, but as the president of the Uchiha Trading Company, he couldn't leave his command post on any chaotic night.
Roy is still coughing up purple blood, and Mila can regroup the Clippers within twenty minutes.
He turned and went back to his office. Koldo spread the nautical chart on the table and tapped the navigation coordinates lightly with his knuckles.
"What White Wax Island needs most right now isn't elite troops, but supplies and medical support. We have fast ferry services from the Capone family in the West Sea, one of which will dock at White Wax Island early tomorrow morning..."
"Send a message to the strategist, instructing him to notify the Capone Family's nearest outpost on White Wax Island to deliver antitoxin serum and surgical instruments. Then, search for survivors near the White Wax Island docks. I'll personally go over to Orange Town once I've finished things here."
Barlow sat behind the table, pushed aside the folder with a deep scratch from shrapnel, reopened the notebook recording flight routes, and flipped to a blank page. His fingers rummaged through the pen holder, finally pulling out the most ordinary quill pen.
The sea breeze outside the window paused for a moment, and the tattered corner of the Fan Flag drooped slightly.
Under the same moonlight, several people stood in different places.
Orange Town is clearing the battlefield, Ando is registering the names of the wounded at the town hall.
Koldo stood in the main hall on the first floor of the Chamber of Commerce, holding a cup of cold coffee. Next to him sat Rosa, who was responsible for entrusting the deceased comrades to the logbook.
Joey stood behind the bar in his Red Skull Tavern, silently wiping his usual glasses with one hand while pouring Roy still had a low fever, half a glass of warm water with the other.
Mila sat beside him without saying a word, but simply pulled the blanket up over his shoulders.
Roy's shoulder muscles were still twitching uncontrollably, but seeing Mila's displeased expression, he used his regained strength in his right hand to poke her forehead, only to be slapped back by Mila.
At the end of the commercial street on White Wax Island, deep in the White Wax Forest, the last faint candlelight in the villa window was carried away by the sea breeze.
On the sea, a Marine warship is sailing north under the starry night.
The dog head statue at the bow bared its teeth in the moonlight. Cracker crumbs were blown into the sea by the sea breeze. Garp stood at the bow, his coat fluttering in the wind, his short, gray hair falling backward.
Behind him, Bogart was observing the sea ahead with binoculars.
"Colonel Garp, Kakkō sighted ahead," Bogart said.
"Where?"
"To the northeast, at an estimated distance of about twenty nautical miles, lies White Wax Island."
Garp stuffed the remaining half-bag of senbei into his pocket, paused for a moment, then turned and shouted to the helmsman, "Full speed ahead!"
The warship cleaved through the waves, its dog-head prow cutting through the night, and sped toward White Wax Island.