New World, Black Soil Island.
This was an island that lived up to its name—the soil beneath their feet was a fertile, pitch-black color, and even the plants growing on the island had leaves several shades darker green than those on ordinary islands.
The training fleet slowly docked at Sherman Port, the largest harbor on Black Soil Island.
With a long blast of the ship's horn, the restless trainees cheered and surged down the gangway.
Following standard procedure, Orion divided them into four groups, allowing them to experience the island's unique local culture.
Luffy, Ace, and Sabo along with Zoro, Sanji, Franky, Usopp, and Brook, the most troublesome bunch, were "thoughtfully" grouped together by Orion under the lofty name of the "Elite Action Team."
Nami, Nojiko, Koala, and Chopper formed the "Logistics and Procurement Team."
The Vinsmoke siblings—Reiju, Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji—formed their own group.
The remaining trainees, including Hawkins and Trafalgar Law, made up the final team.
Once the groups were assigned, the trainees scattered like wild horses freed from their reins, instantly disappearing into the bustling streets of Sherman Town.
Luffy's group had just rushed into the town center when they were drawn by a thunderous wave of cheers.
At the central square of the town, the "Black Soil Eating Competition Challenge" was underway.
"An eating competition?!" Luffy's eyes instantly turned starry, drool trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"Meat! I want meat!"
Ace and Sabo exchanged a glance, smiled helplessly, and squeezed into the crowd as well.
The competition began, with Luffy and the other two displaying bottomless appetites—the grilled meat on the table vanished at a visible rate.
Zoro, who had intended to cheer them on, ended up heading in the wrong direction the moment he turned around and instantly got lost in the crowd.
Sanji paid no attention to the contest at all; his eyes sparkling with hearts as he lavished compliments on every beautiful lady passing by.
Usopp stood on a chair, enthusiastically boasting to the surrounding townsfolk about his glorious past feat of "single-handedly devouring a Sea King," eliciting gasps of amazement from the crowds.
Franky developed a keen interest in a local Mechanical Puppet made of black ironwood and was discussing modification plans with the craftsmen.
Brook strummed his guitar, singing "Binks' Sake," occasionally interjecting with, "Miss, may I take a peek at your panties?"
Meanwhile, Nami and Nojiko were fiercely haggling with the shopkeeper at a nautical supplies store over a tattered Sea Chart that recorded ancient ruins.
The sisters worked in tandem, overwhelming the shrewd shopkeeper until they successfully acquired it at an extremely low price.
Koala, on the other hand, moved inconspicuously through various corners, appearing to wander aimlessly while actually gathering any intelligence that might relate to the Revolutionary Army.
Chopper, carrying a large backpack, was in an herbal shop, captivated by many medicinal herbs unique to Black Soil Island, lingering there with fascination.
The four Vinsmoke siblings presented a completely different scene.
They walked in perfect sync, their gazes fixed straight ahead, scrutinizing everything around them as if they were monarchs inspecting their own domain.
Ichiji, Niji, and Yonji wore undisguised contempt on their faces, sneering at these "mortals'" recreational activities.
Only Reiju paused briefly when passing a flower stall, purchasing a small blue blossom thriving in the black soil.
As for Hawkins and Law, they stood out even more starkly.
Hawkins found a secluded corner and began drawing Tarot cards by himself, muttering under his breath.
"Today's sailing fortune: auspicious. Probability of encounter: one percent?"
Law, wearing his signature spotted hat, leaned against a wall and coldly observed the scene, utterly uninterested in the so-called local customs, merely finding his future colleagues rather noisy.
...
At the harbor, a seaside café.
Orion leisurely flipped through an old newspaper in his hands, the sea breeze drifting in through the open window, carrying a hint of salty moisture.
Hancock sat quietly across from him, taking small bites of dessert, her gaze never leaving Orion's face as if he were the most beautiful scenery in the world.
Morgan stood as straight as a door god behind Orion, his eyes sharp as an eagle's, vigilantly scanning everyone in the vicinity.
"Morgan," Orion set down the newspaper and spoke without turning his head.
"Sir!" Morgan stiffened, standing at attention.
Orion chuckled lightly, "Relax, it's safe here. Take your troops and go explore the city. Experience the local customs—no need to stay so tense all the time."
Morgan's eyes instantly lit up, though he hesitated slightly, "But your safety, Fleet Admiral..."
"My safety?" Orion blinked, "Do you really think i needs your protection?"
"Hehe, right"
Morgan gave an awkward laugh, having only spoken casually.
After saluting with a standard military gesture, he practically sprinted out of the café, his eagerness a stark contrast to his previous demeanor.
The moment Morgan rushed out the door, a young boy carrying a stack of newspapers came running from the street corner, shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Big news! Big news! A terrifying rookie has appeared in the New World!"
"Hey, kid, wait a moment!" Morgan immediately stopped him. "A newspaper, give me one."
"Right away, mister!" The boy deftly pulled out a freshly printed newspaper, still smelling of ink, and handed it to Morgan.
After taking the payment, he continued hawking as he ran off.
Morgan casually unfolded the newspaper, intending to see who this "terrifying rookie" was.
But when his eyes fell on the shocking headline, his relaxed expression instantly froze.
He abruptly turned and hurried back into the café, placing the newspaper on the table before Orion.
"Fleet Admiral, please take a look at this."
Orion's gaze swept across the front page, where the most eye-catching font printed the headline.
"The Blackbeard Pirates, the New World's Nightmare!"
Below it was a blurry photo of a crude raft carrying several imposing figures.
The man in the center, missing several teeth, was unmistakably Marshal D. Teach.
Orion's eyebrows rose slightly.
Blackbeard?
According to the timeline in his memory, Teach killing Thatch for the Dark-Dark Fruit and defecting from the Whitebeard Pirates shouldn't happen for at least a few more years.
Yet now, not only did the newspaper announce the formation of the Blackbeard Pirates, but it also detailed their "achievements"—swiftly conquering several moderately famous pirate crews in the New World within just a few days.
Was it because of his own appearance that triggered a butterfly effect?
Causing the Dark-Dark Fruit, which Teach had long coveted, to appear ahead of schedule?
"The Blackbeard Pirates?" Hancock leaned closer, her fair arm naturally linking with Orion's.
Her beautiful eyes blinked as her fingertip tapped the newspaper headline.
"Why am i never heard of this name before?"
"A pirate crew that recently emerged," Orion said calmly, picking up the newspaper. "Their captain is Marshal D. Teach, formerly a crew member on Whitebeard's ship."
At this point, Orion slowly closed his eyes.
The next moment, Orion observation Haki was quietly released—formless and intangible, yet vast as an ocean, it instantly enveloped the entire Black Soil Island like quicksilver.
Every heartbeat, every breath, every conversation on the island became clearly perceptible to him.
But this was only the beginning.
The Observation Haki didn't stop; instead, it radiated outward from Black Soil Island, spreading wildly across the endless seas in all directions.
One hundred miles!
Five hundred miles!
One thousand miles!!
The vast ocean transformed into an incredibly precise, real-time map in Orion's mind.
Soon, his "gaze" pierced through layers of mist, accurately locking onto a massive raft riding the waves a thousand miles away.
The raft was crude and rugged, flying a pirate flag adorned with three skulls.
Beneath the flag, Teach's signature "Zehahaha" maniacal laughter crossed the thousand-mile distance, ringing clearly in his perception.