pdf-ebookys Chapter 101: A River of Blood and Flesh
Chapter 101: A River of Blood and Flesh
Chapter 102: A River of Blood and Flesh
The seventh day of the ten-day trial, the first half of the Grand Line, Paradise.
A dog-headed warship was sailing smoothly in the night. The sea breeze was gentle, and the waves lapped against the hull with a rhythmic splashing sound.
Garp stood at the bow of the ship, arms crossed, looking at the pitch-black sea ahead.
He wasn't wearing a justice coat, just a simple shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, revealing his muscular forearms.
"Zeffa, is that island you mentioned really around here?"
Garp didn't turn his head, his voice sounding muffled in the night wind: "I was wondering how the Navy could possibly capture so many people and transport them to such a remote place. What's the point of wasting time and effort?"
He raised his chin and looked toward the port side. On the distant horizon, the outline of the iconic, massive gate-shaped building of Enies Lobby could be faintly seen, resembling a silent tombstone in the night.
Zephyr stood a few steps behind Garp, wearing a dark hooded robe pulled low, obscuring his face and revealing only his chin and mouth.
"certainly."
Zephyr's voice came from under the hood: "I trust my sources."
"That place isn't far. Once we get there, you and I will find out what they're up to."
Garp frowned but remained silent.
He wasn't really happy.
Two days ago, Zefa somehow managed to sneak onto his ship, and by the time he realized it, Zefa was already sitting in his cabin.
Garp's first reaction was to throw the man into the sea, not because he had any issues with Zeff, but because the situation was too sensitive.
Zephyr is a person registered with the World Government and a key target of the Ten-Day Trial.
If it's discovered that Zeff is hiding on Garp's ship, then things will be in big trouble. Not only him, but the entire crew could be implicated.
But Zephyr only said two sentences: "Do you want to know what the Navy is doing right now?"
"Come with me and see for yourself, then you'll understand."
Garp hesitated for a long time, but in the end he still kept Zeff.
He didn't know why he did it. Maybe it was because he had questions in his heart, maybe it was because he couldn't stand what was happening in the Navy, or maybe it was just because he was Garp.
Standing here now, looking at the sea getting closer and closer, Garp felt an increasingly strong sense of unease.
What are those bastards trying to do by transporting so many people to this godforsaken place?
"I hope your information is correct."
Garp said only this one sentence at the end, and then fell silent.
Zefa stood behind him without saying another word.
The night wind blew across the deck, carrying the smell of sea salt and dampness. The warship cut through the waves and continued sailing southeast.
Zephyr looked at Garp's broad back, his expression complex beneath the hood.
He was just as curious as Garp, and really wanted to know what was happening on that island.
When Oro gave him these coordinates, he also gave him several guesses, but those guesses—
Zefa didn't want to believe it.
He didn't want to believe, deep down, that the navy, the navy he had served in for decades, would actually do such things.
Tomorrow will be the seventh day of the ten-day trial.
Zefa silently calculated the time in his mind.
Hopefully, Sora didn't blindly follow the World Government and actually do something stupid.
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
He now actually hopes that the coordinates Oro gave him are empty, without even an island.
Even if it means his mission to persuade Garp fails, even if it means he's made a wasted trip.
It's better than seeing things he doesn't want to see.
The dog-headed warship continued its voyage, heading into the depths of the night.
As Garp's warship sailed into the night, things began to go wrong.
Countless living people and corpses drifted over from the sea.
Among the corpses and the living were ordinary people, merchants, and nobles. Now all of them were in the same boat, helplessly adrift in the cold sea.
The densely packed people, their hoarse cries for help, and their listless sobs formed a long river of flesh and blood on the boundless sea.
Garp's warships are sailing upstream on this river of flesh and blood.
"Stop the boat! Call everyone who can move! Launch the small boats! Rescue people!"
Karp's roar exploded on the deck. He ripped off his shirt, revealing his muscular upper body, and jumped directly off the ship's side.
"Lieutenant General!"
The adjutant shouted from the ship, but Karp had already crashed into the sea like a cannonball.
Garp was enveloped in icy seawater, his eyes wide open, surrounded by people.
People struggling, people floating, people sinking.
Their faces were deathly pale in the moonlight, their eyes filled with despair.
He grabbed the nearest few living people.
Hang in there!
Garp hoisted the man onto his shoulder, then swam towards the warship, paddling with one hand.
His strength was terrifying; even in the sea, he was like a whale. In no time, he swam to the side of the boat and threw the person he was holding onto the lowered net.
Then he turned around and plunged back into the crowd.
All the sailors on the warship sprang into action, and all the searchlights were turned on. Bright beams of light cut through the sea, illuminating the scene further out—as far as the eye could see, there were people everywhere.
Densely packed, rising and falling, like garbage dumped into the sea.
The small boat was lowered, and the sailors used hooks and nets to retrieve the people. Soon, the deck was covered with soaking wet people.
Some people can still cough, while others have stopped moving.
The military doctor led the medical personnel through the crowd, pressing on chests and performing artificial respiration.
They kept trying to save people, but there were still too many to save.
After rescuing everyone he could, Garp squatted down in front of a middle-aged man, a businessman wearing a fine but tattered coat with bloody marks on his wrists from the shackles.
"You mean—they told you to watch?"
Karp stared at him and asked again, his voice suppressed, each word seeming to be squeezed out from between his teeth.
The man hugged his knees, his eyes unfocused: "Watch, watch. Everyone—locked in a big house, separated by iron bars—a dozen or so people at a time, stripped naked, tied to chairs—interrogated. If they can't get anything out of them, or if their answers aren't satisfactory—"
He shuddered: "Green gas—was spewing out of the holes in the ceiling. The people inside seemed to be choked, and after a while—they stopped moving."
A woman huddled nearby suddenly burst into tears, covering her face and her shoulders shaking violently: "My husband—my husband is in there.—They made him say—say our town mayor—had insulted the Celestial Dragons—he said no—he really didn't—"
Her cries seemed to flip a switch, and more suppressed sobs and intermittent narrations echoed across the deck.
"My son is only sixteen years old—they said he has friends who are pirates—and they took him away—"
"Our caravan was clearly transporting ordinary cloth, but they accused us of smuggling contraband—if we didn't admit it, they beat us—and then we were thrown overboard—"
"My father was the royal steward—they forced him to accuse the king of treason—he refused—"
A cacophony of voices, fragmented and disjointed, pieced together a picture that grew clearer and colder with each passing moment.