Over the past few days, Marco and the others had barely returned to the ship. Even when they did, they stayed only briefly before eagerly running back here.
He really did want to see what his sons were doing here. Otherwise, he would never have come; meeting Good was merely incidental.
Now that he had seen it, this was bad.
No wonder his sons did not want to go back.
That wicked, scheming brat!
Good accompanied Whitebeard on a stroll, and they soon reached Villa No. 1, the residence he had prepared specifically for Whitebeard.
The two sat in the courtyard pavilion.
Good poured Whitebeard some tea.
"Old man Whitebeard, what do you think of my place?"
"Nothing special."
Whitebeard's gaze was calm.
The living environment was indeed very nice, but he was not like his easily fooled sons. He had long since stopped dwelling on surface appearances.
Good smiled without speaking.
Heh, you insincere old bastard.
Whitebeard took a sip of tea, his brows furrowing slightly.
"What did you want with me, brat?"
"Old man, I'd like to talk to you about the future of the Whitebeard Pirates."
Good spoke calmly.
The atmosphere in the courtyard abruptly chilled.
Whitebeard stared at Good, then suddenly threw back his head and laughed. "Our future? Gurararara! You little brat who hasn't even grown a full set of hair, you want to tell me what to do?"
Even the air trembled with his laughter!
The unusual disturbance immediately drew the division commanders' attention.
"It's Pops!"
They had seen Pops arrive and knew he was taking a walk with Good, but the situation before them suggested that Pops might have gotten angry.
Without a word, the commanders immediately rushed toward Pops.
Inside the courtyard.
Good drank his tea without a change in expression. "Old