—Boom!
A deep, muffled explosion erupted out of nowhere.
The thugs who were still shouting just moments ago instantly felt as if an entire mountain had slammed down onto their backs.
Terrifying gravity crushed in from all directions. They didn't even have time to scream—every one of them was flattened to the ground like squashed toads.
The hard, expensive redwood floor shattered on the spot, collapsing into a massive circular crater. The thugs were embedded at the bottom, knocked unconscious outright.
After finishing all this, Issho calmly sheathed his blade, lightly tapped his cane against the ground, and strolled away under the crowd's horrified gazes.
The remaining enforcers stared at one another, legs trembling, not a single one daring to step forward and stop him.
They had definitely kicked an iron plate.
This kind of supernatural power was almost certainly that of a legendary Devil Fruit user.
In a place like the West Blue, that meant absolute power.
Seeing this, Tenma raised an eyebrow. He casually tore off the disguise on his face, tossed it aside, and strode after him.
Though blind, Issho's Observation Haki had long since reached an extraordinary level.
He wasn't quite at the mystical stage of "hearing the Voice of All Things," but he could clearly see the outlines of people around him—even the colors of their emotions.
So he immediately sensed the powerful presence behind him, one that made no attempt to conceal itself.
Issho didn't turn around. He walked all the way to a quiet corner at the edge of town before stopping.
"You have followed me this entire way, sir. May I ask what business you have with me?"
Tenma stopped as well, a playful smile on his face.
"You should be able to directly read what I'm thinking right now, shouldn't you?"
Dealing with an Observation Haki master like this saved trouble. Tenma deliberately didn't use Conqueror's Haki to shield his thoughts.
It was both a show of sincerity—and a subtle flex of strength.
A brief silence followed.
A wry smile appeared on Issho's weathered face.
"May I ask for your name, sir?"
"Tenma. And speaking of it, my connection to your gravity ability runs rather deep."
At the sound of that name, Issho's once-calm expression finally changed, disbelief written all over his face.
He slowly turned around. He didn't assume a fighting stance—because within the heart of the world's strongest man, he felt not the slightest trace of killing intent.
"I am honored by your regard, Lord Tenma," Issho said slowly, "but I am accustomed to a life of wandering clouds and idle cranes. I have no intention of joining any faction at present."
A refusal—exactly as expected.
Tenma wasn't surprised in the slightest, even with the halo of "World's Strongest" over his head.
After all, the man before him was a stubborn old soul—someone who, in another timeline, would openly defy the Fleet Admiral and even kneel before civilians on Dressrosa to apologize to pirates.
"You should know better than anyone that a man with earth-shaking abilities like yours would never be content living as a mediocre nobody."
Tenma's tone was calm, yet every word struck home.
"Those eyes of yours… you blinded them for this very reason, didn't you?"
Issho froze for a moment, then helplessly shook his head.
Since the other party showed no malice, he opened his heart. Perhaps after being alone for so long, he too wanted someone to confide in.
"It is indeed ironic. These eyes were destroyed by my own hand, so that I would no longer have to see the filth of this world."
"I have always felt that after going blind, my heart became clearer instead—no longer deceived by false appearances."
Tenma knew this monologue by heart. He cut in directly:
"What filth are you referring to? The petty, underhanded tricks in that casino just now? Or the Seven Warlords system tacitly sanctioned by the World Government? Or the countless civilians living in misery?"
Issho's mouth opened slightly. He clearly hadn't expected Tenma to hit his deepest thoughts so precisely.
His evaluation of the man before him rose several levels higher.
"What you say is absolutely correct," Issho said gravely. "These things cling like maggots to the bone, making it impossible for me to eat or sleep in peace—especially that accursed Seven Warlords system."
Leaning on his cane, his tone grew heavy.
"Ever since the government created that system over a decade ago, I have despised it to my core."
"It is nothing more than a compromise born of the government's and the navy's incompetence—raising wolves to bite other wolves, while the price is paid in the blood of innocent civilians."
"To feed pirates with the flesh and lives of common people—what kind of absurd, rotten logic is that? I can never accept it, even unto death!"
As his emotions surged, Issho's voice trembled slightly.
"When the policy was first introduced, I even reflected on myself—wondering if I was being too extreme."
"So I traveled the seas, deliberately observing those so-called Warlords—from Crocodile to Gecko Moria, and later to San Juan Wolf…"
"The result was utter despair. Every single one I investigated, without exception, was human scum. With that veneer of legality, they committed evil even more brazenly!"
"And the government? Not only did they refuse to abolish the system, they expanded it—recruiting even villains like Wang Zhi. It chills the heart."
"Then," Tenma said, looking at the indignant Issho as he cast out the bait, "have you ever thought about how to completely abolish this system?"
"Of course I have."
Issho answered without hesitation, but his expression quickly dimmed.
"In my younger days, I even submitted petitions of tens of thousands of words to the government. They vanished like mud oxen sinking into the sea."
"Later, I thought about hunting down the Warlords—killing them until no one dared take the position. But I soon realized that was treating the symptoms, not the disease. Scum who want to become Warlords are as numerous as crossing fish—there is no end to killing them."
"Have you ever considered joining the navy?" Tenma asked knowingly, probing his stance.
"With the global draft underway, this is a rare opportunity. Climb to the top, and perhaps you could change things."
Issho shook his head without even thinking.
"Setting aside whether I could climb that high—so what if I became an admiral? The root is already rotten. The government would never allow anyone to upset their precious 'balance.'"
Such treasonous words could only be spoken before Tenma, the number one rebel.
Tenma nodded. This was exactly as he had anticipated.
The current situation was different from the original timeline. The Seven Warlords system was still the government's lifeline—they would never abolish it just to appease Issho.
"You're right. Even the Fleet Admiral is nothing more than a watchdog for the Celestial Dragons—hardly qualified to rewrite the rules."
Tenma spoke bluntly, tearing away the final fig leaf.
"If treating the symptoms won't work, then we treat the root," his voice carried an uncanny pull, each word hammering into Issho's heart.
"Why not overthrow this rotten government altogether?"
Issho's entire body trembled. He was clearly shaken by the sheer audacity of the idea.
That was an entity that had ruled the world for eight hundred years.
Yet when he recalled the rise of the man before him—from obscurity to world number one—he couldn't help but think that in this man's hands…
Perhaps miracles truly could happen.
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