Alabasta.
Two days later, Logan leapt down from the Flying Nimbus at the edge of the coast.
Behind him, Tuanzi followed slowly, carrying both a blade and a greatsword, her steps heavy and deliberate.
Logan lifted his gaze.
Endless yellow sand stretched to the horizon. In the distance stood low, dome-shaped buildings clustered together.
The air was filled with nothing but heat and dryness—there wasn't even a trace of moisture.
Each step across the sand produced a faint rustling sound. For Logan, who had never crossed a desert before, it felt strangely novel—though the heat rising from the ground was another matter entirely. It felt as if his boots were on the verge of catching fire.
Tuanzi walked seven or eight meters behind him.
Crossing the desert was brutal for her.
The Zhenhai greatsword alone weighed over a hundred kilograms, and the loose sand caused her feet to sink nearly ten centimeters with every step. Combined with the scorching surface temperature—well over forty degrees—it felt as if she were stepping on burning coals.
Before long, her cloth shoes wore through completely, exposing her toes. Sweat poured from her forehead, streaming down her cheeks and dripping into the sand like rain.
The moment the sweat touched the ground, it evaporated.
"If you're tired, give me Zhenhai for now," Logan said without turning back.
"I'll carry it until we reach the town."
Tuanzi didn't reply.
She simply looked at him with eyes filled with stubborn resolve.
Logan said nothing more—but his pace quietly slowed.
He glanced toward the town ahead.
About two kilometers remained.
The settlement was small but densely packed. In the vast sea of sand, that lone cluster of buildings looked fragile—like it could be swallowed by the desert at any moment.
Suddenly, Logan felt his foot strike something hard.
He kicked the sand aside.
A sun-bleached human skull rolled free.
Another kick revealed a full skeleton beside it.
Five hundred meters later, he saw half a body buried in the sand. Upon closer inspection, the upper torso had already eroded away, exposing white bone beneath weathered flesh.
With each step, Logan's expression grew heavier.
Along the way to the town, he had already seen five or six corpses. As for how many lay buried deeper beneath the sand… there was no way to know.
He didn't fear death—but looking at the remains, a quiet sorrow crept into his heart.
Tuanzi trudged on behind him.
By now, both her shoes were completely destroyed. Her feet were torn open, blood mixing with sand and drying into crusted clumps.
Yet she no longer felt pain.
"Master…" she asked hoarsely,
"Why are there so many dead people along the road?"
"Probably thirst," Logan replied.
He didn't elaborate.
He handed her a Senzu Bean. The wounds on her feet began healing almost immediately.
"Does it hurt?" he asked.
Tuanzi nodded seriously.
"It hurt at first. Not anymore."
"And I think it's worth it."
"Ever since I started carrying Master's greatsword, I can feel my strength growing every moment."
Logan ruffled her messy hair, saying nothing.
On the path of martial pursuit, talent alone was never enough.
Some suffering had to be experienced personally.
At that moment, a familiar voice echoed in his mind.
[My lord, the system has detected that this desert environment is suitable for cultivating the Phantasmal Beast Spirit Tree. Please plant it as soon as possible.]
Logan froze.
For a moment, he wondered if he'd imagined it.
The system rarely spoke unless he asked.
Yet now, it had spoken on its own—and delivered shocking news.
He had tested the Spirit Tree in the deep sea near Marineford.
In Cocoyasi Village's grasslands.
In Loguetown's plaza.
Even on the white earth of Baltigo.
Every attempt had failed.
He had long since assumed the whole thing was a scam.
And yet—
The Spirit Tree's proper soil… was Alabasta's desert.
Logan's heart surged.
Phantasmal Zoan fruits.
His imagination ran wild—him standing atop the Flying Nimbus, waving his hand as hundreds of subordinates with Kaido-level combat power charged forward.
If that were the case…
Where in this world couldn't he go?
Would the World Government still dare execute Ace at Marineford?
Who would dare contest Luffy for the title of Pirate King?
Even Mary Geoise—sooner or later, it would be torn down.
But Logan quickly suppressed his excitement and forced himself to think clearly.
A very real problem remained.
If he truly cultivated hundreds of Phantasmal Zoan users…
How would he control them?
By charisma?
Unrealistic.
By strength?
Even if he reached Yonko level—like Shanks or Kaido—could he truly restrain them?
No.
Phantasmal Zoans held too much potential. No one could guarantee control.
For now, all of that was still far off.
The priority was Alabasta.
As long as Crocodile remained, Logan himself would never truly be safe.
Only after this country stabilized could he find a place to plant the Spirit Tree in peace.
Seeing her master grinning like a fool, Tuanzi couldn't help asking:
"Master, why are you smiling? What's making you so happy?"
"Come on," Logan said cheerfully.
"Let's find a teahouse."
"You'll understand someday."
Even within the city, sand coated the streets. Tables and chairs outside shops were buried beneath layers of dust.
There were many people on the roads, men and women alike, young and old—every one of them wrapped in headscarves. Their faces were weary, their steps sluggish.
Logan and Tuanzi searched for a long time.
Not a single place sold tea.
Eventually, Logan had to ask around.
Only then did he learn of the only tea shop in town.
Inside, the tables were nearly empty. A single shop attendant lazily wiped down the counters.
"Boss," Logan said casually, sitting by a table near the street.
"Two pots of tea. We need to rehydrate."
The table was shaded beneath the eaves, so the heat wasn't unbearable.
The attendant was thin and sharp-featured, with the look of a calculating man.
Instead of making tea, he slowly walked over.
His eyes flicked over Tuanzi's appearance first—then lingered on Logan.
Only when his gaze landed on Zhenhai did his expression soften slightly.
"This shop runs on cash only," he said coolly.
"No credit."
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