Tuanzi knelt before Logan, her forehead striking the ground again and again—
without a word.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
The dull impacts echoed continuously.
Before long, a patch of blood stained the white earth.
Logan merely looked down at her in silence.
It wasn't that he didn't want to speak.
He couldn't.
At that moment, his vision was pitch-black. His body swayed, barely holding itself upright.
During his ten years at Marine Headquarters, Logan had forged two original sword techniques through a decade of relentless practice:
Sever the Sea.
Cleave the Heavens.
Sever the Sea was a technique he used often. Its consumption was manageable.
But Cleave the Heavens…
That strike was overwhelmingly tyrannical.
This was the first time he had ever used it—
and worse, he had forced it to its absolute limit.
His internal organs churned violently. A scalding surge of blood rushed up his throat.
Before Tuanzi could notice, Logan clamped a hand over his mouth and forcibly swallowed it back down.
His body trembled faintly. Cold sweat drenched his back.
Sever the Sea consumed stamina—something he could regulate.
But Cleave the Heavens was different.
Once unleashed, it devoured everything.
Spirit. Strength. Will.
It was like creating a massive vortex within his body, dragging every shred of power into Zhenhai without mercy.
Logan cursed inwardly.
That was way too much showboating…
I can't pull that again so casually.
The moment he regained the slightest control, he tossed a Senzu Bean into his mouth.
Several breaths later, warmth surged through his body.
Only then did Logan finally feel capable of speaking.
Nearby, Sabo was still utterly stunned by that sword strike.
He stared blankly at the distant mountain—
now reduced to rubble, its former majesty erased.
He rubbed his eyes repeatedly, unable to believe what he had seen.
The shock crashing through his mind was so overwhelming that he didn't even notice Logan's condition at first.
By now, people across the base were pouring out.
When they saw the familiar mountain collapsed into a heap of shattered stone, confusion swept through the crowd.
"What just happened?! Was that lightning?"
"Did we just have an earthquake?"
"Could Whitebeard have come here?!"
"…Or—could someone have cut it apart?"
"Don't be ridiculous. The Chief is still in his office. Who else could possibly—"
At that moment, Dragon stepped out of the base.
He gazed at the shattered mountain, eyes narrowing in contemplation.
After a brief silence, he threw his head back and laughed.
"A brand-new world… is about to arrive."
Logan bent down and helped Tuanzi to her feet.
Her forehead was torn open, blood and flesh exposed, crimson streams running down her face.
Yet her eyes burned with unyielding resolve.
That pain meant nothing to her.
"Becoming my disciple isn't as simple as bowing your head," Logan said in a low voice.
He turned and tapped a phoenix tree beside him—
half a meter thick.
His voice slowed deliberately.
"I can stay here for three more days."
"Tomorrow, I'll teach you a breathing method."
"If, after three days, you can cut this tree down with a single strike—"
"I'll take you as my disciple and leave this place with you."
"But if you can't…"
Logan's gaze hardened.
"Then it means we have no master-disciple fate."
"And you'll accept your destiny—
spending your life here as nothing more than a little female drunk."
Tuanzi nodded firmly.
Then she hesitated, embarrassed.
"Master… could you give me a sword first? I only have this wooden one. I can't cut down a tree this thick with it."
"I'm not your master yet," Logan said dryly.
"Don't call me that."
He glanced at the "wooden sword" in her mouth and chuckled helplessly.
That wasn't a wooden sword at all—
just a straight branch.
The only thing resembling a blade was the two neatly carved characters etched into it:
Tuanzi.
Logan unfastened the Nichirin Blade from his waist and handed it to her.
"Take it. If you become my disciple, this will be your greeting gift."
"If you fail—"
He snorted lightly.
"Then consider it a three-day loan."
He had noticed it long ago.
The morning she stole alcohol, Tuanzi's eyes had lingered endlessly on the blade at his waist.
Today alone, she had glanced at it at least three times.
Tuanzi's eyes lit up.
She completely forgot the blood pouring down her face.
But instead of reaching for the blade, she gripped the branch in her hand—
Crack!
She snapped it cleanly in two.
Then she lifted her chin proudly, as if she'd accomplished something monumental.
Just as she reached out for the Nichirin Blade, she suddenly froze.
Remembering something, she hurriedly wiped her hands on her clothes—
then reached out again.
Logan laughed and placed the blade into her hands.
Yet inside, his chest tightened.
If Tuanzi had grown up with her parents…
She would have been a gentle, well-raised young lady.
Tuanzi clutched the blade tightly to her chest, terrified it might be taken back.
She asked softly,
"Master… does this sword have a name?"
"I acquired it not long ago," Logan replied.
"It doesn't have one yet."
Her smile widened instantly.
"Then from now on—
this blade shall be called Dragon-Slayer!"
Logan froze.
An eight-year-old girl…
smiling as she named a sword something so vicious.
Dragon-Slayer.
What dragon was she planning to slay?
The killing intent behind that name was far too heavy.
Logan and Sabo exchanged a glance.
They both understood.
"Remember," Logan said, "this blade only becomes yours if you cut down the tree in three days."
"You're that confident?"
"I can do it!" Tuanzi declared proudly.
"There's no tree I can't cut, no person I can't kill, and no alcohol I can't drink!"
After she skipped away with the Dragon-Slayer Blade, Sabo finally spoke.
"She's truly made up her mind."
Logan coughed lightly.
"What makes you say that?"
"You might not know how much that wooden sword meant to her."
Sabo gazed up at the moon, a faint smile on his lips.
"When she first arrived two years ago, she screamed every day about revenge—about learning swordsmanship."
"She asked me for a blade. I refused."
"Not because I was afraid she'd hurt others—
but because I was afraid she'd kill herself."
"When no one would give her a sword, she searched for branches herself."
"To find that straight one, she fell from a tree and broke her leg."
"She limped all the way back to the base."
"After her leg healed, that branch never left her side—
not when eating, not when sleeping."
Logan burst into laughter.
"Hearing that… doesn't she remind you of someone?"
They looked at each other—
And spoke the same name at once.
"Luffy."
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