Chapter Twenty: Tiger Spirit! (Please continue reading!)

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A ship flying the flag of the Rocks Pirates lay quietly on the sea some distance from God’s Valley. Dylan stood at the bow, peering through a telescope at the island far ahead. Through the lens, he could clearly see the entire island trembling; the great mountain at its center had already collapsed, and thick dust cloaked the entire land.

“What on earth is happening up there?”

Dylan considered himself no stranger to turmoil, yet now his heart pounded with unease. Lord Roa’s actions were unmistakable—he intended to break away from the Rocks Pirates. But why? Why would he do such a thing?

Lord Roa’s position within the Rocks Pirates was indisputable. Most of the officers cared deeply for him, even the captain himself. Rumors swirled that Lord Roa was the chosen heir of Captain Rocks. So what reason could he have to sever ties?

Dylan could only think of one possibility—perhaps the most unlikely one. Lord Roa, what have you foreseen?

Suddenly, a splash of water sprang up before him. Dylan’s pupils shrank sharply; instinctively, he stepped back and formed a knife hand with his right hand, which was already stained dark from wrist upward.

Known as “Blood Hand” Dylan, he specialized in the bladeless style, famously piercing foes with his knife hand stained crimson. He was thirty-five years old, with a bounty of 360 million Beli.

Yet, his alertness faded the next moment.

“Yo! Dylan! Sorry to keep you waiting!” A lively, charming young man nimbly landed on the ship’s rail, shaking off the water like a playful dog, smiling broadly.

“Welcome back, Lord Roa!” Dylan bowed respectfully.

“Whew—haha, I almost didn’t make it back,” Roa sighed deeply.

“Was it really that dangerous?” Dylan’s calm face betrayed a flicker of astonishment. The Rocks Pirates had nearly mobilized all their officers, all landing on God’s Valley. And yet, Lord Roa said he almost didn’t return?

“Of course, the enemy was even scarier,” Roa said casually.

The Roger Pirates, Iron Fist Garp, the Divine Knights, and the Five Elders—such a lineup was unbeatable even for the all-star Rocks Pirates, especially when their main target was just a lowly Vest Deed.

Roa gazed at the roaring God’s Valley. This island was finished.

“Dylan,” Roa chuckled, “lower the flag. From today on, the Rocks Pirates cease to exist.”

So, what we’re witnessing now is the end of an era.

Though shaken, Dylan remained composed. “Understood. Then, Lord Roa, shall we head to that country next?”

“Yes. We won’t return to Hive Island,” Roa said. “That country will make a suitable foothold.”

“I’ll prepare to set sail immediately.”

Dylan hurried to instruct the sailors. Left alone, Roa stared quietly at God’s Valley.

Suddenly, he smiled. “Farewell, Captain, and my pirate days.”

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God’s Valley.

The chaotic battle at the island’s center was drawing to a close.

Rocks gasped heavily, unable even to wipe the blood streaming down his forehead.

“Face it, Rocks! You’ve lost!” Iron Fist Garp, battered and bleeding, roared while swinging his fists crackling with dark lightning.

“Wahaha! Rocks, this is the end!” Roger’s horned cap had long since flown off, but his blade remained lethal.

“I never thought you two bastards would team up!” Rocks could only desperately fend off their combined attacks.

As the great clash wound down, it fractured into smaller duels.

Rocks faced off against Garp and Roger.

The fact was clear—even someone as powerful as him couldn’t defeat those two together.

He was defeated.

Utterly crushed.

That brat Roa fled first, followed by Lingling and Wang Zhi.

There was no chance of victory anymore.

“Roger! You think killing me means you’ll have a good end?” Rocks bellowed. “The Five Elders are coming! They’re watching us tear each other apart!”

“Who cares about that!” Roger laughed carefree. “I’m just here for revenge!”

Rocks faltered.

Then—

“Hahaha! Damn it! I’ve been a fool!” Rocks laughed loudly. “It won’t end like this! Roger! The brat who inherited my will is still alive! One day, he’ll overturn this world!”

“I told you, I’m just here for revenge! I don’t care about the rest!”

...

Shortly after, somewhere in the West Sea.

Roa, somewhat disappointed, placed a silver fruit on the table. “Dylan, you don’t recognize this Devil Fruit either?”

“Sorry, Lord Roa.” Dylan shook his head. “I haven’t looked at a Devil Fruit encyclopedia.”

“Never mind. We’ll find the right person to eat it later.” It was bound to be a high-quality Devil Fruit; otherwise, it wouldn’t be displayed alongside the Azure Dragon and Meatball Fruits.

Speaking of which, Roa could eat another Devil Fruit himself, but he wasn’t interested. His abilities were already well-rounded; no need to add more weaknesses.

Dylan’s face remained calm, showing no desire for the fruit.

Roa drew the second spoils of this battle from his waist: a long sword with a black scabbard and a purple hilt.

About 1.2 meters long, the blade’s curve was less pronounced than a typical katana, giving it a straighter appearance.

Roa gripped the hilt and slowly drew the sword.

A strong scent of blood immediately filled the air.

“Oh!” Roa examined the blade in surprise.

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The dark red blade slowly emerged from its sheath, the color gradually brightening to vivid crimson.

“Hm?” Roa glanced at his right hand.

His palm was bleeding, but the fresh blood seemed to vanish instantly into the hilt.

“Oh, how fascinating!” he exclaimed. “This thing seems to be sucking my blood!”

It had always been me drinking the blood of uncles and aunts!

“Lord Roa! Be careful!” Dylan shouted in alarm. “If I’m not mistaken, that sword is one of the Twelve Supreme Great Blades—the Asura Blade, the Demon Sword Bloodsea!”

“Twelve Supreme Great Blades? Asura Blade? Bloodsea?” Roa raised an eyebrow. “Sounds intriguing.”

“It’s said this blade absorbs blood to evolve!” Dylan said seriously, watching Roa still clutching the demon sword. “If it doesn’t acknowledge its wielder, even the owner will gradually be drained of blood! It’s a genuine cursed sword!”

“And once it accepts its wielder, even more terrifying things begin! Absorbing blood makes it stronger, but failing to do so causes it to degrade! To maintain power, its master must kill recklessly, ultimately descending into the path of Asura!”

“Sounds like me!” Roa snapped his fingers. “Blood? Easy.”

The hatch swung open, and figures with dark eye sockets shuffled stiffly out like zombies.

“Come on, little darlings, let me test your strength and see if you qualify as my dining knife.”

Roa approached a revenant and casually thrust the blade into its chest.

Sharp! No resistance at all; it was like stabbing air.

That was Roa’s first impression.

Then he saw the revenant’s face turn pale as its body rapidly withered.

“Oh! I like my food fresh!” Roa smiled. “Let’s keep going.”

He switched to another revenant—otherwise, the blade might drain him dry. Plus, collecting revenants wasn’t easy. Without the Rocks Pirates’ support, gathering high-quality ones would be even harder.

Later...

“Can’t eat more?” Roa held the demon sword, now so crimson it nearly dripped blood, the blade shimmering faintly red in sunlight.

It had become much more docile, no longer draining Roa’s blood.

“You’ve got a small appetite; that needs work. As a partner for a gourmet, you can’t have a small appetite! Next time, eat more.”

Dylan glanced at the withered revenants behind Roa. That was small?

Still, no surprise Roa had rightfully become the sword’s master.

He was very pleased with the blade.

It must have been long without fresh blood and had degraded, but even so, it was formidable.

First, its blade was unusually sharp. Roa had tested it; even after transforming into Qiongqi, his tough fur could barely block it. At this stage, his defense wasn’t as strong as Aunt Lingling’s, but still far tougher than steel.

Second, its blood absorption ability: after feeding on many revenants, the sword absorbed blood faster. A few slashes could almost drain one’s entire blood.

Roa looked forward to seeing how powerful it could become with continued evolution.

“But Bloodsea is such an ugly name,” Roa pondered.

“Since it’s my dining knife, from now on, you shall be called...”

“Tiger Soul!”