The Swordsmen had their own rules for the tournament.
After five days of duels, only two contestants remained.
And the World's Greatest Swordsman would ultimately be decided between them.
One was none other than Dracule Mihawk.
The other was an equally renowned Great Swordsman, the wandering Swordsman Solder.
Not only had their strength earned the recognition of the other Swordsmen, but their names also carried considerable weight across the seas.
During the three days before the battle, people continued arriving at Swordsman Island.
Unfortunately, the minimum requirement for setting foot on Swordsman Island was to be a Swordsman, or to possess comparable strength.
Otherwise, the experience would be agonizing.
The omnipresent sword energy scraped at flesh every moment.
Even so, the number of people on the island kept growing.
On the morning of the third day, an hour before the battle began, Randall arrived at Swordsman Island.
After stepping ashore, he looked around in surprise.
From what he had heard about the island, he had expected it to be utterly barren, with nothing but rocks and sand.
Yet now he actually saw greenery here.
Randall couldn't help walking over and flicking one of the upright bamboo stalks.
It actually gave a metallic clang.
Sure enough, any plant that could grow here was far from ordinary.
Randall headed farther inland.
Just then, he sensed a trace of a familiar presence.
He hadn't encountered that presence in a long time.
He raised his eyebrows and headed toward it.
Before long, he spotted the man.
Perhaps it was a sixth sense, but when Randall came within a dozen meters behind him, the man suddenly glanced back.
And there he saw Randall looking decidedly sneaky.
Caught in the act, Randall wasn't embarrassed at all. He laughed and walked over.
"Hahaha, Milers! Long time no