Chapter 448: The Headwind of the Island Landing Competition
"The Mythical Beast Conference is finally about to begin!" Pizarro exclaimed.
"Finally ready to go, meow."
On a pirate ship bearing a skull and pointed island flag, Island Transport Pizarro stood.
He gazed at the massive island ahead, seemingly within reach, his eyes filled with longing.
Rumors held that the Yamata God Orochimaru was generous. This time, the Mythical Beast Conference was said to be extraordinary. If he could climb its ranks and claim the rewards, perhaps…
Pizarro glanced at another pirate flag mounted diagonally on his ship—the flag of the Beasts Pirates.
Perhaps he could replace Kaido as the ruler.
A few months ago, feeling his strength growing, Pizarro learned Kaido was absent.
He ventured to Wano Country with allies to test the waters.
He wanted to gauge its worth.
Then he was defeated. King crushed him on the spot, leaving no chance to escape.
So, the opportunistic Pizarro surrendered immediately.
Saving his life was no shame!
In this vibrant era, Pizarro was not ready to die.
As for his ally Shiryu's pirate crew, they fled the moment things went wrong.
It infuriated Pizarro to no end.
Now, staring at the Beasts Pirates flag, he recalled that incident.
"Shiryu, you scoundrel, I still get angry thinking about it, meow." Pizarro said.
He looked at another pirate ship, mere meters from his own.
Seeing the man smoking leisurely aboard, his anger flared.
"Why would you act without a swordsman's spirit? You abandoned our alliance instantly. Your loyalty is too unreliable!" he complained.
Pizarro leaned against his ship's guardrail, venting his frustration.
Shiryu took a deep drag, exhaled slow smoke rings, and glanced at Pizarro lightly.
"You know, I never care for such spirits," he said.
The swordsman's spirit, popularized by Wilbur Island's kendo culture, meant bravery, fearlessness, and resilience.
To Pizarro, Shiryu's actions lacked any trace of such qualities.
"I am so angry, meow, seeing you like this!" Pizarro said.
As Pizarro's temper rose, Mordic, standing beside Shiryu, stepped in to mediate.
"Pizarro-san, our captain planned to retreat first and then rescue you, but…" Mordic trailed off.
He left the meaning unspoken, but Pizarro understood.
"Hahaha, Mordic, you need not speak so kindly." Rosetta said.
The Dark-Blood Swordsman, once a supernova of the Worst Generation, overheard Mordic's diplomatic words and sneered.
He turned to Pizarro and said, "The boss knew you would surrender immediately, so he fled without hesitation."
"Look at you, aren't you still alive and well?"
He exposed Pizarro's shame without mercy.
"You, you are bullying me, meow!"
Hearing their coordinated taunts, Pizarro felt wronged.
It sounded as if his surrender was his fault.
That cursed birdman had hurled fireballs at his head, leaving him in despair!
"I am sorry, Pizarro-san. You know Rosetta; he always speaks bluntly." Shiryu said.
While Shiryu and his crew conversed with Pizarro, a voice echoed across the sea.
"Cough, cough, hello, can you hear me? Can you hear me?"
The sound silenced all ships in the area.
Everyone recognized the voice.
It had been prominent in past Kendo Tournaments.
"It seems everyone has heard me!" the voice continued.
"Guhahahaha, ladies and gentlemen, I am your old friend Morgans!"
"I believe you all know me, so I will not introduce myself."
"Here, I am deeply grateful to the Yamata God Orochimaru for granting me the honor of hosting this Mythical Beast Conference. May the glory of Yamata endure forever…" Morgans said.
His exaggerated voice lavished praise on the Yamata God Orochimaru.
Everyone was accustomed to his flattery.
Not only here, but Morgans' voice reached many islands worldwide at that moment.
Thanks to the anticipation for the Mythical Beast Conference, the audience tolerated his lengthy pleasantries.
Time passed slowly, and several minutes elapsed.
Morgans' voice, growing soporific, finally neared the point.
"Guhahahaha, I believe all viewers are immersed in the glory of the Yamata God Orochimaru!"
'No, we are not, do not speak nonsense.'
At that moment, many grumbled inwardly.
"Now, let us get to the main matter." Morgans said.
Hearing this, people watching screens, crowding squares, or preparing to join the Phantom Beast Conference at sea perked up.
"First, the audience before the screens can see the countless ships gathered beneath Phantom Beast Island, where I stand." Morgans said.
With his words, countless news birds flew nervously around the island's edges.
These birds had Den Den Mushi tied around their necks, capturing the spectacular scene below in real-time.
"To officially participate in the Phantom Beast Conference, the first task is to board Phantom Beast Island." Morgans explained.
"This is the preliminary round, which I call the Island Landing Competition."
"The Phantom Beast Conference will not begin until participants reach the island."
"But first, they must face the initial challenge before landing."
As Morgans' voice hit a high note, live screens worldwide amplified the pitch.
The screens showed a sea surface with slight ripples.
It appeared unremarkable.
Only those who had researched beforehand knew an invisible airflow, daunting for ordinary people, awaited.
"That is the outermost headwind layer surrounding Phantom Beast Island." Morgans announced.
"I believe some prepared participants already know this, but allow me to explain for viewers worldwide."
On Phantom Beast Island, Morgans stood atop a high white stone platform.
His wings, acting like hands, adjusted the tie around his neck.
He retrieved a microphone from within his feathers and continued.
"Ahem, the seemingly ordinary sea before me hides a powerful undercurrent of wind."
"These winds will undoubtedly blow away participants from Phantom Beast Island."
"Participants must advance against these strong winds to break through this headwind layer and reach the next area."
Morgans directed the camera to the densely packed ships below.
"As it stands, I personally believe this stage alone will eliminate over 90% of participants."
Hearing Morgans' words, some at the sea, unaware of the challenge, felt defiant.
'It is just a headwind; what is there to fear?' they thought.
Many had powered boats. By lowering sails, the headwind would not stop them!
As if hearing their thoughts, Morgans added, "A gentle reminder."
"The headwind layer spans ten kilometers, with wind speed increasing the deeper you go."
"For smaller boats, you might even enjoy the thrill of being blown away,"
"And…"
"At the end, wind blades capable of cutting steel will appear sporadically."
"So, for your safety, I hope everyone acts within their means."
'What?' many people thought.
After hearing Morgans, confusion spread across many faces.
They had rushed here by boat, only to feel their dreams crumble before starting.
Winds that could blow ships away and blades that could cut steel—what were these?
Could anyone pass through?
The unlucky might perish on the spot!
Could they not create a challenge ordinary people could face?
(End of Chapter)