Chapter 164: Drawing the Sword to Help the Oppressed on the Road

In Water 7, inside the tavern run by CP9 agent Blueno.

Teach and Ace walked into the tavern, casually seating themselves right in front of the bar. Teach's massive, three-meter-tall frame instantly occupied nearly half of the counter.

Blueno, moonlighting as a bartender, vaguely sensed that the two men before him were not to be trifled with, and cautiously asked:

"What can I get you two to drink?"

"Rum!"

Teach slapped a hefty stack of Berries onto the bar and boisterously declared:

"Bring us as much as you've got!"

"And get me some cherry pies, the more the we have, the better!"

"We don't carry—"

Blueno initially intended to refuse Teach's request, but upon catching sight of Teach's stubble-strewn, dark face, an inexplicable panic surged through his heart.

The words coming out of his mouth unconsciously shifted to: "I'll have someone prepare that for you right away."

"Hahaha..."

Ace took a sip of the rum served by Blueno the bartender and chuckled as he said to Teach:

"You still love cherry pies just as much as ever!"

Teach laughed heartily as well, opening his mouth to chat idly with Ace about inconsequential matters.

Just as the two of them were deeply engrossed in conversation, a commotion of noisy shouts, roars, and even the weeping of a woman drifted over from not far away.

Ace frowned at the sound, and Teach immediately caught the hint, standing up and striding toward the several large tables where a group of emotionally agitated people were gathered.

"You guys..."

Teach swept his gaze over the dozens of bizarrely dressed, punky delinquents before him, and said with a hint of displeasure:

"Why are you making such a weeping and wailing fuss inside a tavern? You're ruining the mood for drinking!"

"What did you say?"

A bald hoodlum rose menacingly to his feet:

"This is the Franky Family's turf! We'll shout whenever the hell we—"

Before he could finish his sentence, this bald thug, just like Blueno before him, was so terrified by the inexplicable aura emanating from Teach that he swallowed the rest of his words back down.

"This is your turf?"

Teach burst into a fit of belly laughter, pointing directly at the tables full of people and chiding them without a shred of mercy:

"This is your turf, and yet you're sitting here crying like a bunch of stray dogs?"

The underlings of the Franky Family exchanged glances in dismay, entirely unable to squeeze out a single word in rebuttal.

"What on earth is going on?"

Ace walked up as well, wearing a warm, amicable smile on his face:

"Tell us about it. Who knows, maybe we can even lend a hand."

After a long silence, a female member who had been weeping the most bitterly earlier stammered out:

"For some reason, we of the Franky Family have crossed paths with a terrifying enemy."

"But the Boss, he stayed behind all by himself and drove all of us out..."

With just two simple sentences, she painted the portrait of a righteous, fiercely loyal underworld big brother.

Ace was instantly moved.

As an adopted son under the dominion of the underworld titan Whitebeard, what Ace admired most were stouthearted heroes who regarded their companions as brothers and were willing to throw themselves into danger for their mates.

Noticing the shift in Ace's expression, Teach, who was well-versed in reading human hearts to disguise himself, immediately seized the initiative to step forward and score favorable impression points in front of Ace:

"Captain Ace!"

"It sounds like that Boss Franky is a pretty decent guy. Why don't we just do a good deed and help them out?"

"Alright!"

Ace looked at Teach with a fair amount of appreciation and nodded heavily.

"But..."

Hearing that two random strangers wanted to draw their swords and help, the bald underling from earlier said with a troubled expression:

"That enemy is no ordinary person."

"Hahahaha..."

Teach let out a hearty laugh, speaking in a bold and fearless tone:

"No matter who he is, our Whitebeard Pirates are never afraid!"

Teach's words, brimming with a profound sense of pride, once again echoed Ace's inner sentiment that "the pirate crew is my home," sparking Ace's wholehearted agreement.

The moment the moniker of the Whitebeard Pirates was dropped, the entire tavern fell silent.

Only then did everyone realize that Ace going out shirtless wasn't because he was an exhibitionist, but rather to proudly display the massive Whitebeard Pirates tattoo emblazoned across his back.

Blueno, the CP9 agent disguised as a tavern keeper, couldn't help but cast a couple of extra glances at Ace and Teach.

"What?"

That bald underling slapped the table and leaped up in excitement:

"I never imagined these two big brothers came from that legendary Whitebeard Pirates crew!"

Ace smiled smugly, while Teach wore a flawless, hypocritical smile.

To Teach, this was merely a little trick he used to play the role of "Ace's good brother and Whitebeard's good son." Over so many years, he had long since grown accustomed to such disguises.

As for the "powerful enemy" spoken of by these underworld underlings, Teach didn't take them seriously in the slightest.

What kind of powerful enemy could one possibly encounter in trivial underworld turf wars? It was bound to be nothing more than yet another unfortunate sap he could use to build up brownie points in front of his crewmates.

"That's fantastic!"

One after another, the underlings of the Franky Family wore looks of excitement, bursting into clamorous cheers:

"With two great pirates from the Whitebeard Pirates stepping in to help..."

"Even if that Galen happens to be some Warlord of the Sea or Celestial Dragon, we won't have to be afraid anymore!"

....................................................

Inside Franky's scrapyard.

Faced with Galen's thinly veiled threats, Franky was consumed by rage, fiercely denouncing Galen's despicable, shameless, and utterly conscienceless behavior.

And then, Franky silently chose to cooperate.

Franky's greatest vulnerability was the blueprint of Pluton; his previous wariness and rejection of Galen were entirely aimed at safeguarding the safety of that blueprint.

Yet Galen had been able to pinpoint in a single breath the crucial intelligence that the Pluton blueprint was concealed upon his person, while showing not a single shred of interest in the ancient weapon that lay within arm's reach. His ultimate goal was simply to have Franky build a ship for him.

With the most fundamental conflict of interests removed, Franky smoothly went with the flow and agreed to Galen's demand, earnestly examining the airship blueprints Galen had brought along.

"Who drew these blueprints?"

After studying them for a long time, Franky pointed to the spindle-shaped airship drawing on the paper and asked.

"That would be me."

Miss Nami, who considered herself quite proficient in drafting, stepped forward with a smug look.

"What kind of garbage is this? Can you even call this a blueprint?"

Franky retorted ungraciously:

"How is it even possible to manufacture a finished product following something like this?"

"You!"

Nami subconsciously wanted to retort, but Galen hauled her back with a single yank.

Nami's expertise lay in cartography, not mechanical drafting.

This so-called blueprint was merely a conceptual airship drawing that Nami had painstakingly perfected by exhausting all her painting talents upon the foundation of soul-artist Galen's "true sketches."

"That's right."

Galen merely nodded and said sincerely to Franky:

"The design progress for this airship currently stands at nothing more than this conceptual drawing. Everything else will have to depend on a scientist like you."

"Therefore, I hope you will come to the floating vessel research institute in Rain Dinners, Alabasta, and assume the position of chief engineer."

"Alabasta?"

Deeply devoted to Water 7, Franky instinctively blurted out a refusal: "No way, I have no intention of leaving Water 7!"

"Ahem, ahem..."

Galen gave a couple of light coughs and stated with absolute composure:

"There are still CP9 agents lurking here in Water 7. If you stay behind, you'll likely be in grave danger."

"You wouldn't want the Pluton blueprint to be discovered by those World Government lackeys, would you?"

Franky's expression stiffened, and he couldn't help but want to hurl a few cannonballs straight at Galen's face.

Galen quietly added:

"If you come with me to Alabasta, aside from personal safety guarantees..."

"You'll get housing, land, and an annual salary of one hundred million."

Franky chose to compromise.

"Fine."

He let out a light sigh and said to Galen: "Let me go say goodbye to my boys, and then I'll leave with you."

"Say goodbye? No need."

Galen replied instead:

"Your boys might look a bit bizarre and have overly flamboyant styles, but at the end of the day, they're skilled ship-wreckers and hard-to-come-by technical personnel."

"Why don't you just take them along to Alabasta as well!"

"What?!"

Franky leaped to his feet in a fury: "You actually want me to bring my boys to Alabasta to use them as hostages and blackmail me?!"

"......"

Galen didn't speak, merely casting a peculiar look at Franky.

Franky felt somewhat uncomfortable under that gaze, and the fierce momentum of his anger dwindled down to almost nothing in the standoff: "Wh-What?"

"You're overthinking it. I genuinely just want to casually recruit some high-level technicians."

Galen shook his head with helpless resignation:

"Though now that you mention it..."

"It turns out your little punk underlings could actually be used as hostages after all."

Franky's complexion instantly turned exceptionally ugly.

"Boss Franky! Boss Franky!"

From outside the scrapyard, a sudden clamor broke out, and the owners of those voices were precisely the underlings Franky had been worrying about: "We're here to rescue you!"

"Didn't I tell you guys to leave?!"

Franky showed not an ounce of appreciation, roaring toward the outside at the top of his lungs: "Who asked you idiots to come rescue me?!"

He had already accepted Galen's employment offer; why on earth would he need his underlings to "rescue" him...

"Boss, don't worry!"

The excited voices of the underlings drifted over: "We found two experts to help us out!"

Franky's expression grew somewhat awkward, leaving him utterly at a loss for what to do.

Even if he truly was "rescued"...

Once the other party flew into a rage and leaked the secret of the Pluton blueprint, the outcome would only be far worse.

"Oh?"

Galen suddenly grew interested: "There are still people daring enough to come looking for trouble with me?"

Wielding his massive greatsword, he walked out amidst the hostile glares of the Franky Family underlings:

"I wonder which two righteous men have come to... dispense 'justice on behalf of the heavens' right at my doorstep?"

"Me!"

A dark-faced, burly man stepped forward without an ounce of backing down.

Galen narrowed his eyes to take a closer look, suddenly feeling that the man before him looked rather familiar:

He saw that the man wore a plain white canvas short headscarf, clad in a solid-colored open-front long shirt. The bristling beard along his jawline resembled that of a badger, and the thick layer of fierce chest hair looked just like that of a black bear. He grasped a wine flask, strapped a flintlock to his waist, stood a丈 tall, and boasted shoulders ten spans wide. He truly possessed the appearance of a stalwart hero.

"Who are you?"

Galen asked with a hint of curiosity.

The righteous hero replied with an air of stern righteousness: "Marshall D. Teach!"