A cook, vice-captain of the Rocks Pirates?

On the deck, everyone waited anxiously.

Karp was even more restless. He would run to the kitchen door and try to peek through the crack in the door, and then scratch his head and cheeks, as anxious as a child who couldn't wait for candy.

"Why isn't it ready yet! My stomach is growling!"

Just as his patience was about to run out, the kitchen door finally opened slowly.

Ryan came out carrying a very ordinary-looking clay plate.

There were no dazzling special effects on the plate, nor any extraordinary aroma that wafted for miles.

There was only one fish fillet, pan-fried until golden brown on both sides, emitting a faint aroma of caramelization, accompanied by several pieces of stewed potatoes and onions, and topped with a thin layer of clear broth made from fish bones and vegetables.

This dish looks like any home-style dish you could find in any small restaurant in Donghai—ordinary, plain, and even somewhat simple.

"That's...that's it?"

Garp looked at the plain-looking fish fillet in front of him, a look of disappointment on his face.

The divine cuisine he imagined should be a miraculous thing that could glow, sing, and give people a surge of power with just one bite.

But this looks exactly like the dinner his mother used to make for him when he was a kid, just to save him trouble.

The members of the Whitebeard Pirates were also puzzled.

"Did the head chef... make a mistake?"

Gatz muttered to himself.

However, Ryan's face remained calm and composed.

He gently placed the plate in front of Kap.

"Please use it."

With some skepticism, Karp picked up his knife and fork, cut off a small piece of fish, and put it in his mouth.

The next second, all the expressions on his usually carefree smile froze instantly.

There was no explosive taste sensation, nor any surge of energy.

There was only one incredibly pure and warm scent, like the gentlest spring rain, which silently yet forcefully and unreasonably permeated his entire soul in an instant.

The freshness of the fish, the softness of the potatoes, the sweetness of the onions, and the savory saltiness of the sea salt that adds the finishing touch.

All the most basic and original flavors were perfectly blended together at this moment, without any fancy techniques, yet reaching a supreme state of returning to simplicity.

More importantly, from the depths of that flavor, Garp tasted something he was extremely familiar with, yet had not experienced for a long time.

That's... the taste of home.

He felt as if he had returned to that small windmill village decades ago, to that dilapidated yet warm home.

He saw himself as a snotty-nosed kid, being chased all over the mountain by his father for being naughty.

He witnessed his first voyage and, facing the boundless sea, vowed to become the strongest naval force.

I also saw... every time I finished a mission and dragged my tired body back here, there was always a bowl of steaming hot, simple yet incredibly delicious fish soup on the table.

That flavor contained no grand adventures, no earth-shattering battles.

Only the most ordinary daily life, the most genuine care, and that warmth called family that he always wanted to protect but had gradually drifted away from because of his identity and responsibilities.

"This...this is..."

Karp's hands, gripping the knife and fork, trembled uncontrollably. He looked at the ordinary fish fillet on the plate, and for the first time, his eyes, which were always full of confidence and pride, welled up with tears.

He thought of his good-for-nothing son, the revolutionary who chose to go against his path in the name of freedom.

He always believed that his sense of justice meant protecting the common people of the world and maintaining order on this ocean.

But it wasn't until today, until he tasted this dish, that he suddenly realized that what he most wanted to protect deep in his heart was perhaps just the simplest taste of home right in front of him.

"I call this dish 'Guardian'."

Raine's voice rang out calmly, like the most composed narrator.

“I didn’t add any special energy to it, nor did I use any fancy techniques.”

"I simply used cooking to express your purest will to protect your hometown and family."

"Isn't the justice you seek to uphold right here in this dish?"

Renn's words struck Karp's heart like a heavy hammer.

Karp could no longer utter a word. He lowered his head and, with an almost pious gesture, carefully and painstakingly fed the remaining food on his plate, bit by bit, into his mouth.

Every bite is like tasting your lost past.

Each bite felt like a candid conversation with one's own heart, hardened by a strong sense of justice and responsibility.

Chapter 275 The Banquet with Garp

When he had soaked every last drop of soup with bread, Karp slowly put down his knife and fork.

He looked up at Ryan, whose eyes, which always seemed a little sleepy, were now clearer and brighter than ever before.

"Little brat..."

Garp's voice was slightly hoarse, yet full of power.

"You win."

"I will remember your promise."

"Someday in the future, whenever you need me, as long as it does not violate the justice in my heart, these iron fists will be at your disposal."

……

On the back of the ancestral giant tortoise, a banquet that can be described as the most bizarre in the history of pirates is in full swing.

Pirates and marines, arch-enemies and rivals, are now sitting around the same huge dining table, clinking glasses and enjoying their meal.

If that scene were captured by a news bird, it would be enough to excite Morgans, the president of the World Economic News Agency, to the point that he would immediately change his feathers.

Garp ate with his usual hearty gusto, holding a roasted sea king rib bigger than his face in his left hand and a whole barrel of liquor in his right, his mouth dripping with oil.

Occasionally, because he had too much food in his mouth, he would mumble to Newgate about his heroic deeds from back then.

"Newgate! You bastard, do you remember that time in God Valley? If it weren't for that guy Rocks' spiked club that deflected my punch by 0.07 millimeters, your head would have been cracked open!"

"Gurglalalal! Bullshit!"

Newgate was equally determined, downing his drink in one gulp and slamming the huge glass heavily on the table.

"It was clearly me who used the power of vibration to interfere with your domineering aura, that's why your weak fist missed me!"

The two living legends are like two old buddies in a tavern, arguing heatedly about old stories, neither willing to give in.

The surrounding crew members were already used to it, and even placed bets on who would be the first to flip the table.

Raine didn't join in their noise; he simply sat quietly in a corner, sipping his own refreshing drink made with citrus fruits and sea salt, local specialties of Windmill Village.

Looking at the bizarre and wonderful scene before him, he felt a strange sense of illusion, as if he were controlling everything from behind the scenes.

He knew that the significance of this banquet went far beyond just a meal.

Garp's appearance, and his ambiguous relationship with the Whitebeard Pirates, is itself an extremely subtle signal sent to the World Government.

The promise he made to Garp was like a deeply buried seed that might one day bear fruit that could change the world order.

In the corner, Teach still maintained his harmless appearance.

He didn't try to snatch the fattest pieces of roast meat; he simply munched on a huge loaf of bread in silence. His small eyes, hidden in the shadows, were like those of a keen hawk, constantly scanning Newgate, Karp, and Ryan.

Power, authority, and... that terrifying thing called wisdom that can manipulate everything.

He was like a greedy sponge, silently absorbing everything that this feast revealed, and then turning it into nourishment for his ambition.

The banquet lasted until late at night.

When the last barrel of liquor was finished, and when Gatz and several other naval soldiers with similar appetites, their bellies bulging, lay contentedly on the deck, starting a contest to see who could snore the loudest, this absurd yet exhilarating party finally drew to a close.

Karp let out a long burp, stood up, patted Newgate on the shoulder, and his eyes, which always seemed a little sleepy, were clearer than ever before.

"Newgate, the wine is finished, the food is done, and it's time for me to go. Let's settle this next time!"

"I'm ready to serve you anytime."

Newgate grinned.

"By the way, kid."

Karp turned to look at Renn, a meaningful smile on his face: "I've remembered your promise. But next time we meet, don't make me such tear-jerking dishes again. I'm getting old, and I can't stand any more nonsense."

After saying that, he burst into laughter and, along with his equally staggering and disoriented naval subordinates who felt their worldviews had been severely shaken, staggered away from the progenitor tortoise and disappeared into the night.

Tranquility returned to the back of the ancestral giant tortoise, with only the cool moonlight and the gentle sound of the waves remaining.

Newgate stared in the direction Karp had left, remaining silent for a long time before finally shaking his head with a smile that was both helpless and sympathetic.

This era is getting more and more interesting.

However, none of them knew that while they were enjoying the peace of being survivors, deep in the distant new world, a thunderous roar that would shake the entire world was quietly exploding.

……

The New World, a sea area known to the world as the end.

There is no unpredictable climate here, no ferocious sea monsters, and not even a wisp of wind.

The sea was as calm as a giant mirror, reflecting the eternal and magnificent Milky Way in the sky, as if time itself had lost its meaning here.

A legendary ship lies quietly anchored in the middle of this tranquil sea.

Oro Jackson.

On the ship's mast, the pirate flag with a straw hat and skull design hung limply, and the ship's hull was covered with scars of all sizes, as if silently telling the story of its hardships and glories along the way.

On the deck, all the members of Roger's Pirates gathered at the bow of the ship, each with an indescribable complex expression that mixed exhaustion, excitement, bewilderment, and ecstasy.

Their gazes were all focused on the island ahead, shrouded in thick fog and appearing and disappearing indistinctly.

That was the end they had been searching for their entire lives.

"Have we... really arrived?"

A young crew member asked in a trembling voice, unable to believe his eyes.

"Yes, we've arrived."

Rayleigh adjusted his glasses, his usually refined face unable to hide his excitement, his eyes even becoming slightly moist.

They paid too high a price, sacrificed too much, and went through countless life-or-death trials before finally arriving at this place that only existed in legends.

"Hahaha! Hahahaha!"

A burst of hearty and unrestrained laughter suddenly broke the silence; it was Gol D. Roger.

He pointed to the island that was faintly visible in the thick fog, laughing so hard he almost cried.

The laughter contained neither the arrogance of a conqueror nor the greed of a treasure hunter, but only the purest joy, like that of a child discovering the funniest joke in the world.

Chapter 276 The Pirate King, Gol D. Roger!

"What...what a huge joke!"

Roger laughed while coughing violently, a trickle of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth, but he didn't seem to care.

"That Joey Boy... he actually left us such a... such a treasure that will make us laugh until our stomachs hurt!"

His laughter was infectious, and the others on the ship seemed to be infected by his pure joy, and they all laughed along with him.

The deck was filled with a cheerful atmosphere, as if what they had painstakingly found was not some earth-shattering secret, but the ultimate joke that would make the whole world laugh.

"Captain, let's name this island."

Rayleigh suggested with a smile.

"name?"

Roger wiped away the tears of laughter from the corners of his eyes. He looked at the island, still faintly visible in the thick fog, and then at his group of companions who were laughing so hard they were practically falling over. He grinned.

"Then let's call it... Raphdru!"