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Chapter 423: Imu: Never Suffered Such Grievance in My Entire Life!
After sliding the bottle over, Shanks immediately pulled his hand back, terrified of being even slightly associated with this crazy old man actively courting death.
Garp, entirely unfazed, bit off the wooden cork and tilted his head back, gulping the liquor down. The strong alcohol, mixed with blood, trailed down his heavily muscled chin. "Hah—" He let out a satisfied belch.
A massive wave of alcohol breath rushed straight toward the bar. Sitting on a barstool, Imu took a deep breath. That vibrant, purple-red lump twitched bizarrely in sync with her breathing.
Saint Saturn was shivering like a leaf against the floorboards. He didn't dare lift his head, terrified that he would be silenced later for witnessing Lord Imu's current visage.
Imu turned to look at Blake. Her tone was so flat it lacked even the slightest ripple, but anyone who knew her understood this was the calm before the storm.
"I'm booking the entirety of the next High-Tier Dungeon." Imu pulled a heavy, pure gold pouch from her sweeping robes and tossed it onto the bar. The pouch wasn't tied shut, and a few fist-sized pieces of premium Seastone Ore rolled out. In the black market, a single piece of this grade could easily be traded for an entire island. But to Imu, it was mere pocket change for a down payment.
"The foundation of the Celestial Dragons isn't something that can be compared to a bunch of beggars who have to carefully budget their military expenses." Imu wasn't just speaking to Blake; the jab was aimed squarely at the Marines behind her.
Sengoku's face fell. The good mood from unlocking his 'Wood Release: True Several Thousand Hands' evaporated by half. The World Government's financial power truly was an insurmountable chasm for the Marines.
Garp, however, just grinned. "Must be nice being rich. Unlike this old man, I can't even afford to buy a lump."
The air inside the tavern solidified once more. Imu's temples throbbed violently. She felt that if she stayed in this place for even one second longer, she wouldn't be able to resist slamming eight centuries' worth of Ki blasts right into this old bastard's face.
But she held back. Blake was standing right there behind the counter, smiling as he wiped a glass. That seemingly harmless store manager was the most terrifying monster in this entire tavern.
Imu stood up, her voluminous black robes billowing without any wind. The spatial vortex slowly materialized behind her.
"Monkey D. Garp." Imu stepped one foot into the portal, her back to the entire hall. "Enjoy what little remains of your life."
Before the sentence was even finished, she vanished into the spatial tunnel. A second before the vortex completely closed, Saint Saturn scrambled inside, terrified of being left behind in this demon's den filled with pirates and Marines.
As the spatial vortex fully dissipated, Makino's tavern door let out a soft creak. The main hall was so quiet you could hear the ticking of the clock on the wall.
One second. Two seconds. Three seconds.
"Pfft—"
A sudden, muffled laugh snapped the silence. Instantly, the tavern exploded into pandemonium.
"Wororororo!" Kaido slammed his hand onto the table, directly shattering half the solid wood surface. "Did you guys see that!? That lump! I've never seen a lump so perfectly round in my life!"
Whitebeard laughed until he was wheezing, the butt of his Murakumogiri sparking against the floor. "Gurararara! You old bastard Garp, that was a beautiful punch!"
Doflamingo clutched his stomach, his signature maniacal laughter totally distorted. "Fufufufu! The King who rules the world got flicked on the head! If the World Economic News Paper dared to publish that photo, I'd pay a hundred million for the original copy!"
Shanks didn't have to hold it in anymore, leaning against the wall, laughing so hard he couldn't stand straight. Even the usually stern Akainu had turned his back, his shoulders shaking up and down.
Only Sengoku was still desperately trying to maintain his dignity as Fleet Admiral. But his flushed red face and violently twitching eyelids completely betrayed his true feelings.
Garp was the center of attention. He sat sprawled out on a pile of rubble, holding an empty wine bottle high like a general who had just won a war. "BWAHAHAHA! How was the taste of this old man's Fist of Love!?"
Blake watched this group of top-tier powerhouses tumbling over themselves and shook his head helplessly. Gradually, the laughter in the tavern subsided, leaving only Garp's raspy chuckles echoing occasionally.
The Marine Hero who had just given 'God' a knuckle sandwich was currently lying spread-eagle across two pushed-together tables. He was wrapped in bandages from head to toe, looking like an Egyptian mummy. But his hands maintained a death grip on half a bag of senbei; even with his left arm in a sling, his right hand was still stuffing crackers into his mouth.
"MARCO!" Sengoku roared toward the corner. "Stop dragging your feet and get over here to look at this old bastard! Don't let him actually die here, it's bad luck."
Marco rolled his eyes. As the 1st Division Commander of the Whitebeard Pirates and the 'Phoenix' with a bounty of 1.374 billion Beri... he had somehow been reduced to a Marine field medic. An unofficial one, at that.
"Pops..." Marco looked at Whitebeard with a bitter expression.
Whitebeard, holding a wine bowl nearly the size of his face, twitched his mustache. "Go on, gurararara. After all, beating that 'King' into such a state... this old dog earned some face for us."
Sighing, Marco dragged his feet over to Garp. Looking at the old man—covered in injuries but still grinning while chewing senbei—he couldn't help but frown. As pathetic as the old man looked, his vitality was absurdly robust. Didn't this geezer have some kind of 'Sage Body' regeneration ability anyway?
"Mr. Garp, can't you heal yourself?" Marco asked, a hint of teasing in his voice.
Garp, mouth full of senbei, mumbled indistinctly, "Nonsense! You think that gal Imu is easy to deal with? My stamina is practically drained, I don't have the energy to heal slowly! Hurry it up, stop dawdling!"
Marco sighed again, pressing his hand against Garp's still-bleeding shoulder. His arm transformed into the blue Flames of Regeneration.
Sizzle. The sound of roasting meat filled the air.
"AOWW!!!" Garp bounced straight up off the table, his eyes bulging wide. "Hot, hot, hot! You pineapple-head, are you doing this on purpose!?"
"It's the flame of regeneration, endure it," Marco said expressionlessly, cranking up the heat. That's what you get for chasing the Moby Dick around throwing cannonballs every day.
Right then, Blake walked over, the click-clack of his calculator sounding like a death warrant to Sengoku's ears.
"Alright, let's settle the bill." Blake slammed a long receipt onto the table in front of Sengoku.
Sengoku's eyelid twitched, an ominous premonition skyrocketing in his chest. "What bill? Didn't Imu already pay for the dungeon?" He pointed at the bag of gold still sitting on the bar. The pure gold and premium Seastone inside was more than enough to buy ten Marine Headquarters.
"That's the down payment for the next dungeon, it has nothing to do with this one." Blake tapped the first line on the receipt. "East Blue Calm Belt, Uninhabited Island No. 443, completely destroyed."
"Even though it was a deserted island, I still held the property rights to it. As you saw, eighty percent of the landmass sank, and the rest is just magma craters. This is the venue fee and environmental damage charge."
Sengoku's mouth twitched. That was a deserted island! A deserted island in the Calm Belt where birds don't even shit! What property rights?!
"We aren't the ones who destroyed it!" Sengoku argued vehemently. "That massive crater at the end was clearly blasted open by Imu's Ki blast!"
"Imu already left." Blake spread his hands, smiling amiably. "Do you want me to go to Mary Geoise and ask her for it, or are you going to settle this bill first?"
Sengoku choked. Ask Imu for money? He'd rather kill himself in Impel Down; it would be far less painful.
"How much?" Sengoku gritted his teeth.
"I'll round it down for you. Three hundred million Beri."
Crack. The teacup in Sengoku's hand shattered. He turned his head, glaring daggers at Garp, who was still obliviously eating his senbei. Murder. Pure murder.
"PUT IT ON GARP'S TAB!" Sengoku roared. "DEDUCT A HUNDRED YEARS OF HIS SALARY! TAKE HIS PENSION TOO!"
"You got it." Blake didn't care who paid, as long as someone footed the bill. He happily pocketed the check Sengoku wrote out. Doing business was truly a joy.
The tavern doors creaked open, letting in a gust of sea breeze. Kaido stood there holding a mop. In his massive hands, it looked like a toothpick. His security uniform was stretched tight over his bulging muscles, covered in a fair amount of dust.
"Hey, Boss." Kaido stamped the mop onto the floor, nearly shattering the poor bucket next to it. "The bloodstains by the door are mopped up. And that crooked neck tree that got snapped in half by whatever Five Elder... I glued it back together."
This Beast Pirate Admiral with a bounty of 4.6 billion Beri was now performing janitorial duties with heartbreaking proficiency.
Doflamingo shrank back into his corner, not even daring to blink behind his sunglasses. The scene was too surreal. An Emperor of the Sea was mopping the floor. The Marine Fleet Admiral was paying off debts. Was something fundamentally broken with this world?
"Good job, Employee 007." Blake pulled a fine bottle of wine from beneath the counter and tossed it to Kaido. "Here's your bonus."
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