Chapter Seventy: The Purpose (Part Two)

As it turns out, shipwrecks are ultimately a matter of fate. Not every Gorilla will sink; even though Qiubai tends to be unlucky at times, he isn’t doomed to suffer some ridiculous deterministic curse—such as “every ship he names and boards is destined to go down.” Slander like that simply doesn’t hold water.

In truth, there were more human factors at play. The key to their safe return was likely that Qiubai himself had been beaten so badly this time that he couldn’t mess around on the ship as usual. With the vessel’s command in Ain’s hands, she would only direct a safe voyage and never push the navigator beyond reason, so the journey was uneventful.

There was more good news: by the time Qiubai returned to base, most of his external injuries had already healed. He had to admit, his rate of recovery far exceeded what he’d expect from an “ordinary person,” perhaps a sign of some underlying vitality at work.

As for the gains from this mission, for starters, Qiubai finally had a clear idea of his own combat prowess—his baseline strength seemed to match that of Lucci, and his fighting ability could simply be rated as “Level One Lucci.”

In fact, this fourteen-year-old version of Lucci didn’t pose much of a challenge; in some ways, the fight had even been “easy.” To sum up Qiubai’s battle at Flevance, it could be called “Louis XIV.”

Of course, not knowing how to use bullet barrage attacks, Qiubai couldn’t guarantee he’d always win against Lucci in the future. Combat power is a flexible thing, never easy to reduce to hard numbers. In this world, there were those who could be beaten bloody by pirates with a bounty of thirty million, but at their peak, could stand toe-to-toe with the “world’s strongest,” Whitebeard, fully convinced they could take his head. That pirate’s name was practically on the tip of everyone’s tongue—the notorious “Warlord of the Sea,” Sir Crocodile.

Of course, many preferred to call him by another, more infamous name: “Fifty-Fifty Crocodile.”

...

After slipping through the Flevance navy’s encirclement and sailing for several more days, Qiubai and Ain finally returned “home.”

As the hull creaked under his steps, Qiubai disembarked and once again set foot on solid ground.

He tried moving his left shoulder.

“Ain, I can’t shake the feeling that I’ve forgotten something. It’s subtle, but didn’t we have an unfinished Plan D for our Flevance operation?”

Qiubai felt as though something had slipped his mind.

“Your plan? How would I know?” came the voice from behind. Ain was following close behind him.

This guy always seemed to have a host of strange plans, but only he ever knew their details. Given how many unexpected things had happened this time, there was no way to follow through on Plans A through D.

Qiubai rapped his knuckles against his head, then gave up trying to recall. Never mind—if something’s forgotten, it’s like a nail clipper misplaced at home: it always turns up again sooner or later.

He quickly changed the subject: “By the way, I wonder when you’ll finally master the transition from Plan A to D?”

“...?”

This time Ain had no idea what he was talking about. Qiubai glanced back and saw the confusion in her eyes.

“I mean to say… never mind, it’s nothing.” After considering it, Qiubai decided not to tempt fate any further. His experience in Flevance had taught him a profound lesson: being alive is a good thing.

So, as a true man—he’d best not court trouble.

First on his agenda was to report to Doflamingo that the World Government had blown up the amber lead mine. According to their previous arrangements and schedule, the pirate crew should have already returned, their conspicuous ship docked right there.

Yet just as Qiubai was contemplating how best to present the “facts” about the amber lead mine, an unexpected incident occurred… Wait, had the “nail clipper” really turned up this quickly?

Who would have thought that the great Qiubai would one day be struck by something that literally fell from the sky.

With a shrill, rising cry—“Ah! Ah! Ah!”—a small shadow grew rapidly larger before his eyes.

The shadow’s trajectory landed it right within Qiubai’s reach, so—

“Ah!”

With a thud, a human-shaped mark was imprinted in the earth before Qiubai.

“Saving a life” is, in itself, an excellent way to earn favor and progress in any quest, but when something is about to crash into you, Qiubai reacted like any normal person and instinctively stepped back.

And so, the unfortunate soul crashed as fate dictated.

Peering down, he discerned a boy in the pit… Wait a moment—leopard-print winter hat, nondescript clothes, but a couple of grenades strapped across his chest and back.

Those were good quality grenades, too—surviving that tumble without detonating. The sight jolted Qiubai’s memory of PLAN D.

Still uncertain, he reached out and grabbed the boy by the scruff, hauling the dazed figure out of the pit.

Seemingly, probably, it was who he thought it was.

At that moment, Qiubai realized his bond with Flevance was not yet over, for in his grasp was likely the sole survivor of the nation’s annihilation—a boy named Trafalgar Law.

The white spots visible beneath the boy’s clothes confirmed it; they were surely signs of amber lead syndrome.

To survive such a disaster, the boy’s vitality had to be extraordinary. Though Law was just a child, he was no exception—he wouldn’t die so easily. So, after being thrown from quite a height, he merely lost consciousness, not his life.

Perhaps the pain of the fall shocked him back to his senses, for Law soon regained consciousness.

Upon opening his eyes, Law found his face bloodied, his body aching, and, more disturbingly, found himself dangling in midair, held aloft like a small animal for inspection.

The golden eyes staring at him were filled with keen, unsettling interest. Law felt a surge of panic, confusion, and anger, then lashed out.

“Who are you?! Put me down!”

“Alright, alright.”

Though Qiubai said this, he had no intention of letting go.

In that instant, even though Ain had no idea what the boy had been through, she could tell that his coming journey would be one deserving of sympathy.

Still dangling, Law began thrashing in an attempt to break free, but when that failed, he started punching and kicking at Qiubai.

His fists were feeble, and his short legs flailed in vain, never quite reaching Qiubai’s body.