Kin'emon wiped the sweat from his brow, still shaken by the morning's terrifying scene. "Thank goodness Tsuru dodged quickly, or we'd be doing laundry again..." he muttered.
The scene replayed vividly in his mind.
Tsuru had reacted a moment too late, thrown to the ground by the blast wave with her clothes left stained and dirty.
Momonosuke hung his head, his face flushed crimson.
His youthful features were etched with shame and frustration, an eight-year-old forced to endure such a "curse" filled him with mortification.
Even worse, after each "eruption," he detected a strange anticipation in the eyes of the women around him.
That bizarre gaze made him intensely uncomfortable.
'What kind of twisted preference is this?' Momonosuke lamented inwardly.
The key issue was—he no longer had his "fortress," so how could he still explode? It was absurd.
Every blast brought searing pain, as if countless needles were piercing his body.
"Everyone, the ship is ready!" Denjiro's voice cut through the brief silence.
Kin'emon directed the group to shift formation, creating a mobile "protective circle" centered around Momonosuke.
They adjusted their positions carefully, ensuring there were no gaps as they shielded him.
Otama and the other women were arranged on another ship, separated by at least three warships to prevent any accidents.
Along the shore, ordinary commoners picked up the weapons beside them.
Those weapons—whether crude fishing spears, hoes used for daily labor, or makeshift clubs—became tools to defend their faith.
Some among them, eyes blazing with fervor, bowed their heads and used rough fingers to dip into pigments, painting the emblem of the Eternal Divine Kingdom onto their tattered clothes, stroke by stroke.
That emblem wasn't merely a pattern; it represented a supreme faith, a spiritual pillar they were willing to dedicate everything to.
Their devotion stemmed from the deeply rooted faith of the Eternal Divine Kingdom.
Pure loyalty!
The Eternal Divine Kingdom was like a beacon in the darkness, bringing them hope and providing a spiritual anchor in these chaotic times.
The commoners wore expressions of profound gratitude.
They silently gave thanks, grateful for the nation that had given them faith and strength.
It was the Kingdom's doctrines and ideals that had allowed them to rediscover the meaning of life and given them the courage to face their hardships.
Meanwhile, the captains of the Eternal Divine Kingdom stood by, witnessing the stirring scene.
They held boundless admiration for Lord Ron. They couldn't help but marvel: Lord Ron was truly remarkable!
Merely through lofty faith and grand ideals, he'd made these ordinary commoners fiercely devoted to the Kingdom.
Of course, not everyone in the crowd embraced these ideals.
There were still stubborn holdouts who clung to their original beliefs, scoffing at the new faith.
Yet, the captains weren't disheartened.
They firmly believed that with the passage of time, these people would soon change their minds, moved by the greatness of the Eternal Divine Kingdom, and ultimately become part of it.
By then, that so-called shogun puppet—Momonosuke—would naturally have no reason to exist, an outdated symbol destined to be eliminated by the era. Fated to die!
"Set sail! To conquer Onigashima!"
An impassioned command shattered the silence along the coast.
In an instant, the massive fleet advanced toward Onigashima like a great dragon.
Warships lined up on the sea, their sails flapping loudly in the breeze, while turbulent waves crashed against the hulls, splashing high into the air.
Momonosuke stood at the bow, the sea wind whistling past his face as he gazed at the approaching island of Onigashima.
A mix of emotions surged within him.
On one hand, he understood the immense responsibility of this expedition, which concerned the fates of countless people.
On the other, he secretly swore that this time, he'd fight like a true general!
He clenched his small fists, his knuckles turning white.
He silently admonished himself—he must bravely face every challenge, no longer cower in fear like before, and never again allow those laughable "fortress" moments to occur.
He'd use his actions to prove he wasn't a puppet to be manipulated, but a true general with responsibility and courage!
Moreover, if he performed well, could he ask Ron to remove the curse on him?
....
Meanwhile, in East Blue's Foosha Village.
The first rays of morning sunlight spilled onto the soft, cotton-like sand. The waves lapped against the shore, producing a pleasant sound.
Garp stood tall on a massive reef, his arms crossed over his chest.
The sea breeze tousled his slightly graying hair as his gaze remained fixed on Luffy, who was training with intense focus.
"Idiot! That's not how you use Armament Haki!" Garp roared, shattering the morning tranquility of the beach.
In an instant, his figure vanished from sight, leaving only a blurry afterimage behind.
Luffy, still immersed in his training, had no time to react.
In that split second, Garp's iron-hard fist came crashing down mercilessly on Luffy's head.
"Ouch!" Luffy clutched his head and rolled around in agony on the sand, his eyes brimming with tears of grievance.
"Grandpa, you hit way too hard!" Luffy complained while rubbing his head. "You almost killed me!"
Garp, however, showed no concern. He casually picked his nose, a look of disdain on his face.
"Hmph, the Pirate King's fists are much harsher than this." As he spoke, he flicked away the booger as if swatting an annoying fly.
"Again! This time, focus your Haki in your fist!" Garp barked.
---------
Read 50 chapters ahead and support me on patreon.
patreon (.)com/Newbietranslator