At those words, Wangchuan tilted his head and glanced at Whitebeard.
He said nothing.
Because he knew that when this war began,
the man who had stood at the pinnacle of the pirate world for decades had been prepared to die from the moment he stepped into Marineford.
Some things needed no response.
In the distance stood that proud, solitary figure.
Dracule Mihawk held the Black Blade Yoru, his gaze resting on the imposing figure at the bow of the Moby Dick.
Whitebeard.
He was Mihawk's true target, the one in this war most worthy of making him draw his blade.
But after fixing his eyes on Whitebeard, his gaze shifted slightly for a moment.
He noticed the person at Whitebeard's feet.
Sitting at the bow in a casual posture, he was even more relaxed than Whitebeard.
Like an outsider watching the spectacle.
Despite being so close, he showed no sign of being overwhelmed by Whitebeard's presence.
Mihawk's gaze lingered on Wangchuan for a moment, his eyes narrowing slightly.
"Who is that fellow?"
"To be able to talk to Whitebeard like that..."
He paused.
"Never mind. It doesn't matter."
He withdrew his gaze.
Whoever that young man was, anything standing before him would be cut down by this slash.
He had only one target.
He slowly raised the Black Blade Yoru above his head.
The blade pointed toward the Moby Dick, locking onto the figure at its bow from a hundred meters away.
At the edge of the battlefield, a shrill laugh abruptly rang out.
"Heeheeheeheehee!!"
Doflamingo stood beside Dracule Mihawk.
His pink feather coat fluttered in the wind.
He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing excitedly behind his sunglasses, the corners of his mouth stretching into a grin so exaggerated it almost split his cheeks.
"You're finally making your