Whitebeard created distance, his silver beard flowing majestically in the wind like a proud war god standing tall.
He lifted his head slightly with a trace of contempt in his eyes as he looked at Saint Saturn.
"Saturn, you're nothing special after all."
Then he glanced down at the severed leg, curling his lips in a disdainful smile. "And this ugly ability is useless in my eyes!"
But Saint Saturn gave an eerie laugh, his voice hoarse and raspy, "It's just one leg..."
Slowly raising his hand, he pointed at the nearly imperceptible wound on Whitebeard's left arm, his eyes gleaming with cold mockery.
His voice was like a venomous snake hissing, a chilling cold seeping into one's very bones.
"But you, have you started to feel numbness in your arm?"
Whitebeard's expression changed.
He did indeed feel an unusual numbness spreading through his left arm, and this numbness was rapidly advancing like a plague, eroding his body along the arm.
He glanced at his left arm, where an eerie black hue had emerged around the negligible wound.
That blackness spread like demonic tendrils, extending and giving off an ominous premonition.
"Gurararara, you old bastard are despicable..."
Whitebeard let out a light laugh, his eyes fixed fearlessly on Saint Saturn.
This bit of poison couldn't harm him, and even if the toxin couldn't be neutralized, he could simply cut off the arm.
"But you, a dignified member of the Five Elders, resort to poison in battle?"
"Hahaha."
Saint Saturn's bone-chilling laughter, like the cry of a night owl, pierced the dead silence of the space.
Each syllable seemed to carry sharp barbs, stabbing straight into the eardrums of everyone present:
"As long as it can eliminate you, any method is a good one!"
What was more horrifying was that at the severed end of his spider leg, the black flesh buds wriggled as if possessed of life, squirming with a frenzied intensity.
Every strand of flesh seemed to possess its own consciousness, intertwining, twisting, and splitting and multiplying.
In the blink of an eye, a brand-new spider leg regenerated.
The newly grown limb was covered in black bristles standing on end, gleaming with an eerie luster, like an evil creation born from the abyssal darkness, exuding a nauseating aura.
"Regeneration? Interesting..."
Whitebeard raised his head, his furrowed brows revealing eyes as deep as the night sky, pondering what this creature was.
Its ability bore some resemblance to his own, yet it was distinctly different.
Whitebeard's brows remained knit, but then, they relaxed, like a gentle breeze smoothing the turbulent waves of the sea.
"Gurararara! It's nothing more than the power of a Devil Fruit!"
With that hearty laugh, a surge of Conqueror's Haki erupted from his body!
Black and red lightning crackled around him like agile dragons, exploding and intertwining.
Each bolt of lightning carried immense power, colliding and sparking with crackling intensity.
His left arm muscles tensed, the bulging forms resembling solid rock, with veins bulging like coiling dragons beneath his skin.
The black venom, confronted by this overwhelming force, was forcibly expelled from the wound!
Upon contact with the air, the venom transformed into wisps of green smoke, dissipating under the impact of the Haki, leaving only faint black traces as a testament to what had just occurred.
A flicker of icy coldness passed through Saint Saturn's pitch-black eyes, his gaze like a chilling wind from an ice cellar, sending shivers down one's spine.
He snorted coldly, his voice dripping with disdain and mockery.
"Hmph, I never expected such a small amount of venom to take down a Yonko."
His eight spider legs scraped against the ground, each contact producing a grating, screeching sound.
"Just causing you a bit of trouble, that's all." His tone was flat, yet carried an inexplicable arrogance.
Whitebeard said no more, knowing well that words were useless now—only battle would decide the outcome.
His massive frame transformed into a bolt of lightning as he charged at Saint Saturn.
His speed was so immense it seemed to transcend the boundaries of time and space, leaving only afterimages flickering in his wake.
But this time, his tactics had changed.
No longer relying on brute force as before, he moved with unparalleled agility, weaving through the gaps in Saint Saturn's attacks.
His figure was elusive as a phantom, appearing now on Saint Saturn's left, now vanishing to his right, causing Saint Saturn's assaults to repeatedly miss their mark.
The extreme speed granted by the Thunder-Thunder Fruit made him as nimble as a fish in water on this battlefield.
"Swish!"
The Murakumogiri feinted a strike, its sharp edge glinting with a cold light under the sun, a silver flash cutting through the void.
This move provoked three spider legs from Saint Saturn's right side to simultaneously thrust forward with incredible speed, accompanied by a whistling wind, intent on piercing through everything.
Yet, Whitebeard sidestepped, advancing from an impossible angle.
"Fooled you, old man."
His iron fist, imbued with the power of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit, slammed into Saint Saturn's chest.
In that instant, time seemed to freeze, the world falling silent, leaving only the shockwave of that single punch.
"Boom!!!" A dull impact shattered the silence, reverberating between heaven and earth.
The shockwave of the Tremor-Tremor Fruit rampaged within Saint Saturn's body, like raging waves crashing against a fragile embankment.
The Five Elder spewed a mouthful of fresh blood, which splattered through the air like blooming crimson flowers—tragically beautiful yet intense.
His body flew backward uncontrollably, like a cannonball sent flying, tracing an arc through the sky.
In that fleeting moment, a sharp glint flashed in Whitebeard's eyes.
No one saw his movements clearly—only a crystalline glass jar appeared in his hand.
Bathed in sunlight, the jar refracted a kaleidoscope of colors, catching every drop of Saint Saturn's spewed blood without missing a single one.
The jar then vanished, the process so swift that not even an afterimage could be captured, as if the glass container had never existed—leaving only stunned gazes and endless speculation in its wake.
"You...!"
Only after stabilizing his posture did Saint Saturn realize his blood had been taken.
His pitch-black pupils contracted, his once-calm eyes now filled with shock and fury.
For the first time, his face revealed an expression of astonishment, as if he had witnessed the most inconceivable event in the world.
"Edward Newgate!" he gritted out the name through clenched teeth, his voice dripping with resentment and unwillingness.