Chapter Twenty-Eight: Destination (Part Two)

"William Wallace?" Qiubai repeated the name, furrowing his brows.

The man before him, named William, was an ordinary-looking young man, and as for the reason he'd sought Qiubai out, Qiubai still had no clue.

"Indeed, as I said just now, I am a reporter for the 'Labrador and Southern Shepherd United Gazette,'" the man replied. In truth, his mood was rather sour, for his attempt to take a photograph had just been ruthlessly stopped by Qiubai.

But what happened next annoyed him even more.

"An intern, I suppose?" Judging by William's age, Qiubai naturally made this assumption, for the young reporter didn't seem much older than himself.

William's face darkened completely; he wished he could storm out then and there... There’s nothing more disheartening to a reporter than being called an intern—especially when it’s accurate.

For he really was just an intern, and not even for a well-known paper, but for some obscure rag. Being stabbed right in the sore spot was no pleasant feeling.

Yet Qiubai had no intention of offending him... Let’s just accept that for now.

"Sooner or later, I’ll be chief editor of the 'World News'!" William, the intern, had quite the temper, and he seemed about ready to shout, "Don’t underestimate a young man just because he’s poor!" Right now, Qiubai almost wanted to have him betroth his polar bear, then break the engagement just to see what would happen...

But he couldn’t do that—it would be far too disrespectful and would hurt the bear’s feelings. Besides, the bear probably had no interest in such a lowly human, especially when both were male.

"So... Did you come here just to report your ambitions to me? I’m afraid I’m not very interested." Qiubai wore the expression of someone who’d been approached by the wrong person.

To be able to steer any conversation to the most unpleasant direction in just a few words—this surely counted among Qiubai’s talents.

William nearly jumped from his chair... Luckily, there were only two people in the room, so no one else would witness his embarrassment. William took a deep breath and forced himself to calm down.

Qiubai shook his head. This temperament hardly suited the profession of journalism.

But whether an intern, a reporter, or a famous journalist, they all shared a common trait: a burning desire to make headlines.

William didn’t bother with verbal sparring any longer; he decided to cut straight to the chase:

"Mr. Qiubai, are you a resident of this island?"

Qiubai thought to himself, Did I agree to this so-called interview? You’re digging into my private affairs? But after considering, he decided to answer—he wanted to see what the other was up to.

"No, but I am a true Northerner."

He deliberately left loopholes in his words... No Northerner would go out of their way to emphasize their origin; it was decidedly unnatural.

"Where in the North, exactly?" William pressed on.

"Specifically... That’s confidential," Qiubai replied, feigning vigilance and covering it awkwardly with a forced laugh.

He kept his origins to himself, admitting only his broad affiliation with the North.

His behavior seemed to confirm that there was indeed something questionable about his purported background, so William decided to push further, hoping to shake him with information he believed to be unknown to outsiders:

"Three days ago, on a certain island, someone sold a rare fruit from the New World. I am investigating its origin."

"And?" Qiubai answered with a calm face.

He’d already guessed as much—if someone sought him out, it could only be about this matter.

What surprised him was that it wasn’t the Navy or a special agency of the World Government who came knocking, but a reporter—this forced him to revise his assessment of William. If an organization like CP0 had managed to link him to the incident so quickly, it wouldn’t be strange, but how had a reporter accomplished it?

"The peculiarity of that fruit lies in its freshness, strictly limited by time. Theoretically, it shouldn’t be able to leave the New World, yet it appeared in the North... It’s truly bizarre." William continued, since Qiubai was still putting up a front, his eyes now faintly shining.

He’d figured out the berry’s characteristics so quickly?

Qiubai stayed silent, merely watching the reporter, and... a thought began to stir in his mind.

"So... I made a bold hypothesis," William said, licking his thin lips. Excited, he seemed to have forgotten his earlier irritation. "...Someone crossed the Calm Belt to bring that fruit to the North!"

"All based on a single fruit, you conclude someone crossed the 'uncrossable' Calm Belt? Have you considered how the Sea Kings might feel about that?" Qiubai retorted directly.

This fellow would be better off writing fantasy novels rather than news, though he had guessed correctly. His approach was, in truth, 'bold hypothesis, cautious verification.'

"That’s not all. More importantly, there’s almost no information about the sellers. After selling the fruit, they deliberately sank their ship at the port, and all vanished without a trace."

So the Vikramaditya had sunk again—wait, why 'again'?

William grew more animated as he spoke, never allowing Qiubai a chance to interrupt—though Qiubai was content to hear him out.

"Later, someone recognized the ship—it belonged to a small pirate crew. After officially cleaning the sails, traces of a pirate insignia, previously painted over, were discovered."

"Following that clue, I identified the pirates' area of activity, found evidence of newly sunken ships in those waters... even half a Sea King's carcass!"

"So, the general picture is this: someone crossed the Calm Belt with the fruit, to conceal their tracks they hijacked a pirate ship, sank their own, then quietly sold the goods to local merchants. As they departed, they destroyed the second ship, and by the time anyone realized these were New World specialties, they were already gone."

Though there were discrepancies, William’s explanation was plausible.

Still, he assumed it was powerful individuals who sailed through the Calm Belt, which was far from the truth—but understandable, since it was hard to imagine ordinary people accomplishing such a feat.

What was more impressive, he had unraveled the whole affair in just three days. This man could probably pioneer a new literary genre... Fantasy Detective, perhaps?

"Someone crossed the Calm Belt! Do you realize how much news value that holds?!"

But the crucial point remained...

"The Sea Kings can’t be used as evidence—there are plenty in the North, too. And even if, for argument’s sake, your story is true, what does any of it have to do with me?" Qiubai replied unhurriedly.

He’d finally touched on the heart of the matter.

"Because I learned something: at the site of the pirate robbery, the 'New World visitors' split into two groups—one continued selling goods, the other left for unknown reasons."

"And the latter group consisted of only three, with distinctive features: a red-haired young man, a blue-haired young woman, and a polar bear."

"After arriving on this island, these three spent lavishly—where did all that money come from? Is it connected to those New World specialties?" As he spoke, William glanced around, pretending to survey the somewhat luxurious room.

So that’s how he confirmed my identity? Qiubai pondered, realizing two possibilities: first, that Grisha and the others had deliberately scattered information to distract him, but that was nearly impossible—since even if Grisha had tried, he couldn’t have divulged things he didn’t know. Instead, Qiubai himself hadn’t even known where he’d end up.

Therefore, only the second possibility remained.

"Reporter William Wallace... Are you a 'Devil Fruit user'?" Qiubai asked, as if it were the most natural thing in the world. Only this explanation made sense, for many things impossible for ordinary people were trivial for those with abilities.

William had probably used some Devil Fruit power to gather intelligence and locate Qiubai.

As soon as Qiubai voiced the question, William shuddered. He’d been so busy showing off that he’d completely overlooked how easily Qiubai had seen through his secret.

"I don’t know what ability you possess, nor am I all that interested, but since you’ve pieced together the events so swiftly and found me, it’s clear you’re highly skilled at information gathering. So... you must be quite familiar with affairs in the North?"

Qiubai had all but acknowledged his identity, though it mattered little.

"I take back my earlier judgment—you possess the qualities a reporter ought to have. You might really become chief editor one day, but there’s a prerequisite... you have to survive until then."

"Even if your path to ambition is unobstructed, death is always the barrier you can’t cross... isn’t it?"

Qiubai’s gaze made William realize he’d made a fatal mistake. His actions had been too reckless—after all, Qiubai was someone who’d crossed the Calm Belt!

He now had to consider how to get out. Yet...

"Don’t move, don’t shout, don’t resist. You understand, don’t you? Only the most reckless pirates would dare cross the Calm Belt, and such men aren’t known for their reason."

Who was he?

For the first time, Qiubai called himself a pirate.

"I..."

"No need to worry. I only want you to point me in the right direction. With your abilities, that shouldn’t be difficult. But whether it’s for subjective or objective reasons, if you point me the wrong way, then I’ll be sure to show you the most correct direction."

With that, Qiubai extended his right index finger and pointed straight down.

In all his life, this was likely William’s first direct encounter with mortal peril.

Would Qiubai really go that far? Maybe it was just his habit to threaten people with words, or maybe he truly meant it.

Even he himself couldn’t guarantee which it was.