Sengoku understood Whitebeard's intentions. After all, they were men of the same generation.
Mu Chen was in his office when the teacup in his hand suddenly stopped in midair. He looked up at Kong Ming. "What did you say?"
"Whitebeard wants to see me?"
Well, that was something he had not expected from Whitebeard.
"Kong Ming, what did you say?"
"Why does Whitebeard want to see me?"
"Shouldn't we just fight directly?"
As for Whitebeard's move, Mu Chen could only think of four words: courtesy before force.
Kong Ming waved his feather fan and said calmly, "You are now a Marine Admiral. Whitebeard inviting you to meet naturally means he intends to fight, but Whitebeard cherishes his sons greatly and does not want an all-out war with the Marines. So, he wants to use this method to stand up for Miss Bakkin and prove that Whitebeard is still alive."
Hearing Kong Ming's analysis, Mu Chen understood. This really did sound like something Whitebeard would do.
"So that's how it is. In that case, I'll go meet him."
Excitement appeared on Mu Chen's face.
He had always wanted to meet Whitebeard Newgate, but he had never had the chance. Now that he did, he could not let it slip away.
Seven days later, the Moby Dick's enormous banner cast a massive shadow beneath the setting sun in the New World.
When Mu Chen descended onto the deck with Geppo, the sixteen division commanders stood in a fan-shaped formation. Marco's blue flames stood out sharply against the wooden deck.
"Gurararara! Marine brat, you're younger than I imagined!"
Whitebeard's laughter sent ripples across the sea.
Mu Chen's gaze swept across the deliberately cleared space on the deck. Two enormous barrels of wine stood there, with bowls as tall as ordinary people beside them.