There was a reason Logan and Tuanzi were moving so slowly.
Walking across loose desert sand was exhausting to begin with.
On top of that, the ground temperature was nearing fifty degrees Celsius, making every step feel like stepping on burning coals.
And Tuanzi—who was trailing behind—was still carrying Town-Sea, a greatsword weighing over a hundred pounds.
Step by step.
Here, that phrase wasn't an exaggeration.
After nearly an hour of walking, Tuanzi was drenched in sweat.
The hair at her temples had been soaked, dried, and soaked again countless times.
Her already tanned face was now smeared with dust and sand, filthy and battered.
Yet despite her miserable appearance, her eyes burned with determination—and excitement.
Ever since leaving Baltigo, she could clearly feel it.
Her strength was growing.
Not slowly.
Not vaguely.
But noticeably, day by day.
At first, the massive greatsword had bent her waist under its weight.
Now, she could walk upright while carrying it.
"Master," Tuanzi asked breathlessly as she walked,
"what's the name of your greatsword?"
Logan's complexion had improved considerably.
He no longer looked deathly pale, though fatigue still lingered between his brows.
He had been recovering over the past few days—but the forced intervention at the tea shop had drained what little energy he had left.
"Town-Sea," Logan replied casually.
Tuanzi lifted her foot and kicked a skull lying by the roadside.
Crack!
The brittle bone shattered like a balloon, white fragments scattering across the sand.
"Town-Sea?"
Her eyes lit up.
"What an overbearing name! Definitely worthy of you, Master!
Unlike my Dragon-Slayer—it doesn't have that all-dominating aura yet."
She tilted her head thoughtfully.
"So… which sea are you suppressing?
The East Blue? South Blue? Or the North Blue?"
Logan chuckled helplessly.
"Alright, that clumsy flattery won't work on me.
I've long since developed immunity to that sort of thing."
Tuanzi stopped dead in her tracks, eyes wide.
"As expected of Master—seeing through me instantly!
From now on, I'll only speak from the heart. No empty praise!"
"That line was… acceptable," Logan said with a grin. "Barely."
Tuanzi beamed, teeth gleaming white.
"When I finally kill the Celestial Dragons and avenge my parents," she said excitedly,
"I'll trouble you, Master, to give my blade a more poetic name!"
"No problem."
Logan glanced at Tuanzi's feet—her toes were worn raw and bleeding.
His heart softened.
"Give me Town-Sea. I'll carry it for a while.
Once we reach the port city, I'll buy you proper shoes."
"No!"
Tuanzi immediately stepped back, eyes full of vigilance.
"I'm carrying it myself."
Then she narrowed her eyes suspiciously.
"You still haven't told me—which sea are you suppressing?"
Logan thought for a moment, then replied half-jokingly:
"The sea of stars."
Tuanzi, still only eight years old, naturally didn't understand.
She looked up at the sky in confusion—
there was only a blazing sun. No stars.
Suddenly—
Logan's expression tightened.
His right foot, about to step forward, froze midair.
He slowly withdrew it and stood still, eyes sweeping the surroundings with sharp vigilance.
Less than a hundred meters ahead—
Mr. 5 exploded in rage.
"Damn it! I squatted here for over an hour just waiting for this bastard!
And now he stops right before stepping into the trap?!"
"I suffered in this hellish sun for ninety minutes!
If I don't peel your skin off later, I'm not worthy of Baroque Works!"
"Boss! Should we move?" Little Six asked anxiously.
"Stupid question! ATTACK!" Mr. 5 roared. "Get them!"
He was the first to burst out of the sand.
The desert ahead exploded violently.
Sand and dust filled the air.
When the smoke settled, Logan saw more than twenty figures in yellow robes standing before them, all armed and hostile.
At the front stood a tall, dark-skinned man in a brown trench coat.
Slim build.
Afro hairstyle.
Black sunglasses.
A white number 5 was emblazoned on his chest.
Beside him stood a young woman holding a yellow parasol.
She had a curvaceous figure, pale skin, and wore a yellow fisherman's hat.
Logan recognized them instantly.
Mr. 5 and Miss Valentine.
Baroque Works agents—subordinates of Crocodile.
Mr. 5 picked his nose and flicked the booger aside, eyeing Logan disdainfully.
"I won't waste words. We're from Baroque Works—
we rob money, not women."
"Hand over the swords and all your valuables, and you can crawl away."
Normally, Mr. 5 might've joked around with his partner.
But after baking in the sun for an hour and a half, his patience was gone.
All that remained was fury.
Miss Valentine, however, was perfectly relaxed.
Her parasol blocked the sun completely, leaving her unbothered by the heat.
She studied Logan with interest.
From afar, she already felt something was different.
Up close, it was undeniable.
Refined features like polished jade.
Delicate yet masculine.
Lean, but not weak.
To Miss Valentine, his face alone exceeded the limits of her imagination.
She felt that on lonely nights, when sleep wouldn't come, this face would haunt her thoughts.
Her heart began to race.
She unconsciously stepped closer, parasol tilting as she approached.
When she saw Logan's narrow eyes—and the faint golden gleam within them—
Her breathing tightened.
One pale hand pressed against her chest as she struggled to steady herself.
The other hand, holding the parasol, drifted closer to him without her realizing.
In a soft voice, she asked:
"What's your name?"
Tuanzi curled her lip in disdain.
"Tch. Never seen the world."
Mr. 5 exploded.
"Miss Valentine! We're here to ROB people!
ROB! Do you understand?!"
"The boss made it clear—no sexual harassment!"
Miss Valentine snapped back coldly.
"He said no robbing women.
When did he say we can't rob men?"
Mr. 5 stomped furiously, completely helpless.
He glared at Logan, dug another booger from his nose, and flicked it forward.
Boom!
The ground ahead detonated violently, a massive crater forming as sand blasted skyward.
Mr. 5 snarled:
"Pretty boy—don't force my hand."
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