Reverse Mountain**
"How arrogant!"
Smoker still hadn't grasped the gravity of the situation. Confident in his Logia-type Devil Fruit, he dismissed Yang Ning as a mere nuisance.
**"White Fog Grenade!"**
His fist—wrapped in black leather—rocketed downward, propelled by a jet of thick white smoke like a cannonball from the sky.
***Thud!***
Flesh met unyielding Seastone as Yang Ning slammed the **Jutte** into Smoker's descending strike. The impact drove Smoker's own fist into the cobblestone with brutal force.
Pain twisted Smoker's face, veins bulging across his forehead—but the Marine Captain bit back any sound.
*I was careless… This East Blue pirate actually… my Jutte—*
"Your **Jutte's tip** is lined with **Seastone**, right?" Yang Ning twirled the weapon in one hand, grinning. "Did you really think I didn't know that? That Seastone negates Logia intangibility and forces your body solid?"
Smoker's composure cracked. He'd genuinely believed Yang Ning was ignorant of basic Devil Fruit mechanics.
"How could a pirate from the **East Blue** know something like that?!"
"Aren't *you* just a low-ranking officer from the same sea?" Yang Ning shot back. "Or are you forgetting your place, mutt?"
The jab stung. Smoker's face flushed crimson. For a long moment, he stood speechless—then lashed out with two thick plumes of smoke.
"Getting impatient?"
***Whack! Whack!***
Yang Ning struck twice more with the Jutte, each blow landing with mocking precision.
Smoker abandoned his smoke attacks. He'd realized they were useless—Yang Ning's invisible barrier (Soul Furnace) absorbed most damage, and the Seastone in his hand turned every mid-range exchange into a beating.
*Close quarters. That's my only chance.*
After all, Smoker was a graduate of the **Marine Headquarters' elite training camp**. His hand-to-hand combat was no joke.
He lunged—
***Thud!***
—and immediately crumpled, clutching his head as if struck by an invisible mallet.
In that single clash, Yang Ning had handed him a brutal lesson in humility.
With the Seastone weapon in hand, Yang Ning's **bonus damage** finally mattered. Unarmed and solidified, Smoker stood no chance. Only his exceptional toughness kept him conscious after that first blow.
"You're finished," Yang Ning said flatly.
But Smoker wasn't done.
**"World of White Mist!"**
Thick smoke erupted, swallowing the entire street in an impenetrable fog. Shadowy figures flickered within—eerily reminiscent of a certain masked swordsman from another story.
Yang Ning's eyes gleamed, crimson light flickering deep in his pupils. *Still treating me like some backwater dog from the East Blue? You really don't learn.*
***Thud!***
With surgical precision, he struck again—right as Smoker tried to ambush him from the mist.
Smoker vanished back into the smoke, silent.
*"…Must've been luck."*
***Thud! Thud! Thud!***
Three more blows shattered the Marine's spirit.
"You're not human!" Smoker roared, stumbling out of the fog, blood trickling from a split scalp.
Yang Ning gave the Jutte an experimental flick. "Gotta say… this thing feels *amazing* to swing. Like whipping a disobedient dog."
He smirked. "Hey, Smoker—why stop? Whack-a-mole's just getting fun."
Smoker's expression darkened. Even a fool would've realized by now: **Yang Ning had Observation Haki.**
"How… how does someone like *you* exist in the **East Blue**?"
Yang Ning casually tossed the Jutte back. "Aren't we *leaving* the East Blue right about now?"
Smoker caught it instinctively, stunned. "You're… not going to kill me?"
Yang Ning turned away, back to the Marine.
"You're a good officer. The world needs people like you. It'd be a shame for you to die here."
The words—and the strength behind them—caught Smoker off guard. Without thinking, he blurted:
"Then… **join the Marines!**"
For a heartbeat, Yang Ning hesitated. The offer was tempting.
But only for a heartbeat.
He wasn't a villain—but he wasn't a rule-follower either. He could spare a just man, but he'd never chain himself to bureaucracy.
The thought of daily roll calls, KPIs, mandatory training, endless reports, and all the soul-crushing "synergy" jargon made him shudder.
"Nah," he said firmly. "I prefer freedom. Call me an **adventurer**."
---
After parting ways with Smoker, Yang Ning strolled through Loguetown, leisurely sampling street food before heading to the docks.
Aboard the **New Windbreaker**, his crew was already waiting.
Esdeath stood at the bow, sword in hand, expression unreadable—until she spotted Yang Ning. A faint smile touched her lips before she turned and walked below deck.
Nami waved enthusiastically. Her shopping spree in Loguetown had been the most profitable of her life. Yang Ning—a notorious spendthrift—had handed her **30 million Berries** for supplies. But the ship was already stocked with food and water, leaving her scrambling to spend the fortune.
In the end, she bought clothes, snacks, souvenirs… and more clothes.
Once everyone was aboard, Yang Ning gave the order without hesitation:
"Set sail for the **Grand Line**."
A wave of excitement rippled through the crew.
For those born in the **East Blue**, the Grand Line was a realm of myth—a place of gods, monsters, and impossible dreams.
As the ship cut through calm waters, Nami leaned against the railing, curious.
"So… why *are* you heading out to sea?"
Esdeath paused mid-polish, her gaze distant.
Yang Ning didn't flinch. "To see a **bigger world**. I want to witness every landscape, taste every dish, stand beneath every sky."
"Staying on some tiny island in the East Blue for your whole life? That'd be a waste."
Siliville, ever earnest, added, "I want to see every ship in the world… and build the greatest one ever made!"
Esdeath spoke softly: "I want to become so strong… that no one can ever force me to do anything I don't wish to."
Nami clapped her hands, eyes sparkling. "Then I'll draw the **complete map of the world**! My charts will guide anyone, anywhere!"
At the foot of **Reverse Mountain**—that impossible place where the sea flows *upward*—Yang Ning and his crew shouted their dreams into the roaring wind.
Once, reading this scene in the manga, he'd found it cringey.
But standing here—beneath cliffs that pierced the clouds, before a waterfall that defied gravity—he felt it too: a surge of pride, of purpose.
He glanced around, suddenly self-conscious. *Thank gods there are no smartphones here. I'd never live this down if someone filmed it.*
"**Against the current!**"
The **New Windbreaker** surged upward, riding the inverted tide toward the summit of Reverse Mountain—and the beginning of the Grand Line.
---
> **Next destination: Whiskey Peak — where dreams meet deception.**