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Sengoku lowered his voice. "Remember, Doflamingo holds too many secrets. If handled improperly, the entire Grand Line will be thrown into chaos."
Akainu snorted, magma dripping from between his fingers. "Cowardice! Just because he's a World Noble..."
"Akainu!" Sengoku sharply cut him off. "Watch your words!"
Kizaru had already walked to the window, his body beginning to transform into photons. "Then I'll go and meet that 'Heavenly Yaksha'." His figure gradually vanished in the sunlight, his final words drifting in the office. "Hope he doesn't want to try the taste of being kicked by light."
After Kizaru left, Akainu snorted and departed. Sengoku wearily sat back in his chair.
He picked up his phone, looking at the constantly flashing storm of public opinion: the toy workers of Dressrosa, images of the Tontatta tribe's enslavement, angry public gatherings... Every video was like a knife piercing the Marines' credibility.
"Times have changed..." he murmured to himself, his finger unconsciously scrolling across the screen.
Outside the window, warships were rapidly assembling. Kizaru stood on the deck, posing, while a Marine public relations team filmed a video nearby.
Clearly, they needed to do something to calm the public's anger.
...
The blue sea surface shimmered with sparkling light, sunlight casting a golden shine on the rippling water, as if countless diamonds were glittering.
Ron's ship glided silently across the mirror-like surface, leaving a long wake.
He leaned against the railing, his fingertips tracing the phone screen. The image of Rebecca tearfully accusing was particularly dazzling in the sunlight.
"This girl... she's quite brave," Ron chuckled softly, a hint of admiration in his tone.
He turned off the video, a thoughtful look in his eyes. He knew better than anyone that without the protection of Divine Culture Media, this innocent princess would never have dared to act like this.
Recalling the trembling look on Rebecca's face when she signed the contract that day, the corners of Ron's mouth curved slightly upwards.
He knew that behind Rebecca's courage was her trust in him and Divine Culture Media.
This trust gave him a touch of warmth and further solidified his goals.
The sea breeze swept across the deck, blowing away the stray hairs on his forehead.
In the distance, a few News Coos skimmed the sea surface. Their backpacks were no longer filled with newspapers, but with brand new phones.
These phones would become important tools for him to spread his influence.
Ron pulled back his gaze and tucked the phone into his coat pocket.
The journey that had been interrupted by Morgans could finally continue now. A hint of anticipation in his eyes, he saw the infinite possibilities of the future.
"Old man..." He looked towards the horizon, a playful glint in his eyes. "It's a real shame not to debut in this era."
The sails billowed in the wind, and Ron's light chuckle disappeared into the sound of the waves.
...
Three days later, at dusk, the setting sun dyed the sea gold, the sparkling water surface looking as if it were covered in a golden veil.
Ron's ship slowly sailed into a hidden island's natural harbor. The sound of neat drills came from the island, accompanied by the rhythmic crash of waves against the rocks, making it particularly rhythmic.
"Attention!" With a loud command, the Marines training on the beach stopped together.
When they saw the face of the newcomer, the eyes of these young soldiers instantly lit up.
"Greetings, Admiral Ron!" Nearly a hundred Marines straightened their backs, their salutes perfectly synchronized, their voices so loud that the seabirds in the treetops scattered.
Ron stepped down the gangway, his white coat flapping in the sea breeze.
He smiled wryly and waved his hand. "How many times have I told you not to call me Admiral?" There was a hint of helplessness in his voice, but a warmth in his eyes.
He lightly tapped the leading petty officer with his finger. "Especially you, Carl, it's time to change how you address me."
The young petty officer who was called out had red eyes but stubbornly pressed his lips together. "In our hearts, you will always be Admiral Ron!"
The soldiers behind him nodded in agreement, a few even secretly wiping the corners of their eyes.
Just then, a tall figure strode out from the coconut grove.
His short purple hair was particularly sharp. His arms were still intact, and he hadn't left the Marines yet, but he wasn't happy every day.
Zephyr's booming voice echoed in the air. "You brats, three more hours of training!" His stern words made the Marines shiver. "Who told you to stop without permission?"
But the next second, the strict chief instructor opened his arms and gave Ron a firm hug.
His hands patted Ron's back with a dull thump. "You old fox, finally decided to come see me?"
"Easy there, these old bones can't take you messing around." Ron coughed twice from the pats and laughed as he broke free.
Zephyr burst into laughter and put his arm around Ron's shoulder, walking towards the cabin in the woods. "Tonight, unless I get you drunk, don't even think about leaving this island!" He turned back and glared at the peeking Marines. "What are you looking at? Five more sets of physical training!"
The soldiers groaned and scattered, but they couldn't help but look back.
They knew that tonight, in the instructor's cabin, the two of them would be drinking and chatting until dawn again.
Ron followed Zephyr through the dense tropical plants, a relaxed smile on his face.
In the clearing in front of the cabin, two wicker chairs and a small wooden table were already set up, with several bottles of aged rum on it, the kind he loved most when he was in the recruit camp decades ago.
"Looks like you were prepared?" Ron raised an eyebrow, a hint of teasing in his eyes.
Zephyr proudly shook his arm. "Saw your ship on radar two days ago." He twisted open a bottle cap, and the amber liquid swirled in the glass. "So, did you come all this way just to see this old man?"
The sea breeze rustled through the palm leaves.
Ron picked up his glass and lightly clinked it with Zephyr's. "Catching up is one thing..." A thoughtful look flashed in his eyes. "The other is to persuade a certain stubborn old guy to come out of retirement."
"You're still as unserious as ever, retiring my foot." Zephyr's hand paused in mid-air, the liquid in the glass swirling in a graceful arc.
In the distance, the sound of the Marines' training mixed with the sound of the waves.
"Not retiring? Debuting is fine too!" Ron threw his head back and laughed, the sea breeze carrying his laughter far away.
He had already planned it out. This legendary admiral, once famous for his "non-killing" policy, was being wasted in the Marines. It would be better for him to become a blogger on TikTok. It could also help him see through everything earlier and avoid getting his arm cut off by Edward Weevil.
Ron excitedly pulled out his phone and swiped the screen. "Come on, first follow my TikTok..."
He suddenly stopped mid-sentence.
Zephyr was staring blankly at the device in his hand, his thick eyebrows pulled together.
"Is this... some new type of Den Den Mushi?"
Zephyr carefully poked the screen with curiosity. Even with considerable force, the phone remained undamaged.
Ron's eyes widened. "You... don't know what a phone is?" He looked around in disbelief. Although this island was hidden, it wasn't isolated to this extent.