Chat Group Escanor 25 (Patreon)

Charcoal-selling Boy: "Um... excuse me. Just now you guys said you can bring things back from other worlds? Can cross-world transactions really be done? Isn't it just accepting tasks and going to help fight?"

If this Chat Group could truly realize material exchange between different worlds...

He hoped his mother, younger brothers, and younger sisters could live a little better.

Joseph, on the other hand, focused on another thing. He stroked his chin and asked in his signature tone, mixed with a bit of joke and implied shrewdness.

The Handsomest Old Guy: "Oh~ Group Leader only mentioned supplies? This is crossing worlds, yet you only want food and water? This is too down-to-earth. Haha!"

Such a super opportunity capable of subverting all physical laws and worldviews, yet the user only focused on "filling stomachs"?

It was like baking sweet potatoes with an atomic bomb.

Pride: "There's no other way. The world here is an apocalypse. Civilization collapsed many years ago. I don't even know the specific reason. The people who can survive, numbering over twenty thousand, are probably already the last large-scale human community on this planet."

Pride: "In the future, if I want to live more freely and conveniently, I have to make the people under my command at least live somewhat like human beings, instead of lingering on like bugs in a garbage dump. This requires a massive amount of supplies. Only when they develop can they serve me well. What another world can provide is not just combat power, but the foundation for them to survive and stand back up. Food, water, seeds, building materials, medicine... the more the better."

Charcoal-selling Boy: "Group Leader-san... living in such a difficult world, yet still striving for the future of over twenty thousand people... Truly strong."

Pride: "So-so."

Just at this moment, a system prompt sounded, breaking the atmosphere of idle chat.

[Ding! Detected that Chat Group activity continues to rise, new members joining and communicating frequently, and cross-world mission discussion popularity has met the standard.]

[Congratulations! Multiverse Chat Group has unlocked a new function—'Mission Live Broadcast'!]

[Function Description: When group members participate in cross-world missions, the system will automatically activate real-time video broadcasting, synchronously transmitted to the Chat Group interface. All online group members can watch, like, and send comments to cheer.]

[This function aims to enhance group member interaction and witness the wonderful moments of cross-world adventures!]

Uzumaki Naruto: "Wow!! What does this mean?! Dattebayo!"

Pride: "It means that the next time I go to Akainu's side to do a mission, you guys can see the scenes from my side in real-time in the group. Just like... um, watching a TV broadcast."

Uzumaki Naruto: "That's amazing! Doesn't that mean we will all be able to see Uncle Pride's heroic posture displaying his skills with our own eyes?!"

Red-Hot Habanero: "This function is quite nice. We can see how Pride-san fights in another world."

Tanjiro also appeared somewhat expectant. Broadcasting meant he could more intuitively understand the authenticity of this Chat Group's cross-world missions, and also see the combat scenes of strong individuals, which might provide some inspiration for his own future path.

The Handsomest Old Guy: "Showing off? This is my strong suit. Back in the day, in the Rome Colosseum, on the airship, in the Swiss snow mountains..."

...

Meanwhile, in another world.

The Grand Line, an abnormal sea area at the edge of a certain Calm Belt.

A large fleet was cutting through the waves and moving forward.

The ships flew completely different pirate flags—some ferocious, some eerie, some exuding a candy-like pink sweetness, while others were covered in black spikes resembling dragon scales.

These flags, which should have been irreconcilable like fire and water, were now marching side by side.

The flagship was a large ship with an antique design. At the very front of the deck, three figures stood side by side.

On the left was a woman with a huge body. Her pink hair danced wildly in the wind. Her eyes were empty, like a puppet whose soul had been extracted, just standing there silently.

On the right was a giant with disheveled black hair and bare upper body. His eyes were equally empty.

Charlotte Linlin!

Kaido!

In the middle of them, slightly one step forward, stood a man. He was tall in stature, draped in a dark cloak. His hair presented a peculiar, lightning-like form, with every single strand of hair twitching slightly, flashing pale blue electric light.

His face was cold, yet the corners of his lips wore an elusive arc of madness hidden within calmness.

He looked straight ahead toward the distant junction of sea and sky, the direction where Marineford, the headquarters of the Marines, was located.

"Marineford War... I am here."

—

Grant Island, located about thirty nautical miles from Marineford, was one of the few civilian settlements in this sea that had not yet been completely shrouded by the clouds of war.

At the end of the harbor street, there was an inconspicuous tavern. The sign hung askew with peeling paint, where the words "Anchor and Helm" could be faintly made out. The door was half-ajar, and a chaotic clattering sound echoed from within.

"Boss, another mug of ale!"

A scruffy customer tapped his empty mug against the bar, his eyes unfocused, clearly having had quite a lot to drink.

What answered him was not ale, but a hurried sound of rummaging from the back kitchen—pots and pans clattering, wooden crates dragging, and the splashing of some liquid being poured into a container.

A moment later, the tavern owner—a burly man in his fifties or sixties with a thick beard—emerged from the back holding a bulging sack of coarse cloth.

He walked straight to the inner side of the bar, set the sack down at his feet, and bent over to stuff things inside.

"Boss, I'm talking to you!" The customer raised his voice in dissatisfaction.

Without looking up, the owner mechanically fished out a few unopened bottles of alcohol from under the counter with his right hand and stuffed them into the sack. In his left hand, he held a dirty rag, absentmindedly wiping a non-existent stain on the bar.

"I hear you." He grunted, his hands not stopping for a second.

The other customer, who was somewhat leaner, toyed with his empty glass and suddenly lowered his voice to speak, "Boss, I heard about something. Three of the Four Emperors, leading their entire pirate crews, are sailing toward Marineford. Tell me... have these people gone completely mad?"

The rag in the owner's hand stopped on the bar for two seconds. Then he continued wiping.

"Why do you say that?"

"Those pirates usually can't run away fast enough when they see the Marines and their warships. Even the Four Emperors just hunker down in their respective territories in the New World to play king. This time, they're actually initiating the fight. Are they looking for death?"

The owner threw the rag aside, turned to take a few jars of sealed pickles from the shelf behind him and stuffed them into the already clearly overloaded sack at his feet.

"You don't understand." He finally spoke.

Both customers pricked up their ears.

"Why can the Marines always chase down and beat the pirates?" The owner was still organizing his sack, counting the valuables inside one by one.

"It's not because a single Marine soldier can fight ten pirates. It's because pirates are always scattered."

"A single Emperor's crew, even one like Whitebeard's, bringing along all his division commanders and dozens of subordinate pirate crews—that's a grand enough momentum, right? But if they actually sail to Marineford to face tens of thousands of Marine elites, Admirals, the Fleet Admiral, the Warlords... if even half of them can escape back alive, it would be a miracle. It's not like this kind of thing hasn't happened before."

He dragged out an even smaller sack from under the bar and began packing some valuables that couldn't fit into the large one into it.

"But this time is different."

The first customer set down his glass, seemingly sobering up a bit. "What's different?"

"The difference is that they've made an appointment with each other."

The owner looked up, meeting the eyes of the two customers, his cloudy eyes carrying the fear of someone who had seen plenty of storms but was now facing an impending tsunami.

"It's not one group of pirates, but three. It's not one of the Four Emperors, but three. Three of the Four Emperors and all the pirates under them aren't coming one after another to join the fun, they are sailing toward Marineford at the exact same time, from the same direction."

"Kaido and the Beasts Pirates, setting off from Wano Country."

"Big Mom and the Totto Land fleet, pressing in from Whole Cake Island route."

"Whitebeard's the slowest, but his fleet is the largest, stabbing straight through the front."

"Three of the Four Emperors. I've never seen or even heard of such a thing in my life. What about you?"

The two customers looked at each other and shook their heads in unison.

The owner sneered and slung both sacks over his shoulders.

"I've never seen any of the Four Emperors in person but I know one thing: if any of them were actually weak, the Marines would have captured them and thrown them into Impel Down long ago. There would be absolutely no need to establish the Seven Warlords of the Sea to use one group of pirates to keep another in check. So..."

He paused, looking around this run-down tavern he had run for over twenty years, a trace of complex emotion flashing in his eyes.

"In short, this place is no longer safe to stay in."

"Boss, you are..."

"Otherwise? Do you think I've been clattering and packing here for so long because I'm bored?"

The owner fished out two wooden mugs from under the counter, and slammed them down in front of each of them.

"These two are on the house. As for the rest of the alcohol, whoever wants to drink it can have it."

He picked up the sacks and walked with large strides toward the door.

Reaching the door, he stopped and took one last look back.

"Only you two drunkards would still be sitting here at a time like this, completely blind to the situation."

His gaze passed over the two customers, sweeping across the empty tables and chairs.

"All the decent folks on the island left yesterday."

The two customers stared blankly at the 'free' alcohol in front of them.

After a long while, one chuckled, letting out a "heh".

The other customer froze for a second, then also grinned.

The two of them raised their mugs in unison and clinked them together hard.

"Free alcohol!"

"What a steal!"

"Cheers!"

Clink.

The two wooden mugs collided, the amber liquid inside sloshing slightly.