West Blue, Lilac Island.
This gambling city in the West Blue was brightly lit at night, with neon lights flashing, as if the entire city had been gilded with a golden halo.
The streets were bustling with people, the cheers of gamblers, the shouts of slave traders, and the music from taverns intertwined, forming a chaotic and noisy symphony.
Gern, dressed in a black uniform, wearing a top hat, and with black blade eight desolations wrapped in white cloth tucked at his waist, strolled along, his gaze sweeping over the shops on both sides of the street.
In the display windows of the slave shops, those bound by chains had empty eyes, as if they had long lost hope.
"What a disgusting place..." Gern muttered softly, his fingers unconsciously tapping the hilt of his blade.
His goal was to find Tesoro, the man who would become the "Golden Emperor" in the future.
According to intelligence, Tesoro should currently be desperately earning money in this city, trying to redeem his beloved Stella.
And the two of them also liked to sing to each other across the bars of the cage.
However, just as Gern was aimlessly searching, a clear, cold voice suddenly came from behind him.
"Are you a swordsman?"
"Hm?!” Gern paused, then slowly turned around.
What met his eyes was a slender young man, about fifteen or sixteen years old, wearing an intricately carved burgundy cardigan jacket.
His eyes were as sharp as an eagle's, and he carried a uniquely shaped long blade on his back.
(Roger was executed in 1498, and a 19-year-old Mihawk watched. It is now 1494, so backtracking, Mihawk is currently 15 years old.)
"Mihawk?" Gern raised an eyebrow slightly, feeling a little surprised.
He hadn't expected to encounter the future "World's Greatest Swordsman" here, and for him to be so young.
Was it rare for him to be stepping into the forefront of a new era? First Crocodile, then Belle-Mere, and now Mihawk.
Just as Gern was momentarily stunned, Mihawk's gaze fell upon the black blade eight desolations at his waist, and his tone was calm yet firm.
"You're a swordsman too, aren't you? Interested in a fight?"
Hearing this, Gern couldn't help but smile, assessing the young man before him with interest.
At this time, Mihawk was not yet famous, just a young swordsman traveling the Four Seas, seeking opponents.
His blade had not yet been forged into the Black Blade "Yoru," but his eyes already revealed a sharpness beyond his age.
Seeing that Gern didn't answer him, Mihawk frowned and continued,
"Don't try to fool me. Although you hide it well, I can still sense it..."
"Are you sure I'm hiding?" Before his voice faded, Gern's eyes suddenly turned cold.
Boom!
In an instant, an invisible pressure, aimed solely at Mihawk, bore down like a mountain!
Mihawk's pupils suddenly constricted, and all his muscles instantly tensed, as if he was being gripped tightly by an invisible hand!
His breathing immediately hitched, his heart almost stopped, and cold sweat trickled down his spine.
What is this...?!
Mihawk's vision began to blur, and all he could hear was his own frantic heartbeat.
His legs trembled uncontrollably, and he almost collapsed to the ground.
He had never felt such terrifying pressure.
It was as if the one standing before him was not human, but a ferocious beast ready to devour him!
Gern remained standing in place, his posture unchanged, but his eyes gazed at Mihawk like an abyss.
"Now, do you still want to fight?" Gern's voice was light, yet it struck Mihawk's heart like a heavy hammer.
Mihawk gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stand firm.
His pride would not allow him to bow, but his instincts were screaming warnings at him.
This man, absolutely not to be provoked!
"You... who exactly are you?" Mihawk spoke with difficulty, his voice hoarse.
Gern smiled slightly, withdrawing his aura.
The surrounding air seemed to instantly resume its flow, and Mihawk gasped for breath, the cold sweat on his forehead dripping to the ground.
"Marineford Rear Admiral, Gern."
"Heaven Quake?" Mihawk's eyes were complex, holding both unwillingness and a hint of undisguised shock.
He only knew two points about Gern's situation.
One was his blade cutting down Golden Lion, and the other was his single-handedly defeating the samurai Kozuki Oden.
And both of these were unique dual-wielding grand swordsmen!
In other words, Gern was a man who was super qualified for him to challenge, and a man he would inevitably challenge on his path to becoming the world's number one!
Gern looked at his expression and chuckled, "What, disappointed?"
"No, just confirming one thing." Mihawk was silent for a moment, then said coldly, "I am indeed no match for you right now."
His tone was calm, but the fingers gripping his blade were slightly white.
Proud as he was, admitting defeat was more painful than death, but he knew even more clearly that the pressure from that instant was absolutely not an illusion.
"Not bad." Gern nodded appreciatively, "At least better than those idiots who refuse to admit defeat."
"But..." His voice abruptly stopped, and Mihawk slowly looked up, the dormant fighting spirit in his eagle-sharp eyes suddenly erupting.
"If I were to run away now without even daring to make a move, I would never achieve my goal in my lifetime."
As he spoke, he tightened his grip on Yoru, its blade shimmering with a cold glint under the Moonlight.
"Precisely because of this..."
"Even if there's a bottomless abyss ahead, I will leap!" Mihawk's voice was low and firm. "Let me witness with my own eyes..."
"The true..." He pointed the tip of his blade at Gern, enunciating each word: "...gap between you and me!"
"Do you really want to fight?" Gern looked at Mihawk and smiled slightly, "If you lose to me, you'll have to join the Marine, you know."
"Marine?!" Mihawk suddenly looked up, a hint of surprise flashing in his eyes.
Gern shrugged, his tone relaxed, "What, unwilling?"
Mihawk was silent for a moment, then said coldly, "I'm not interested in the Marine, but if you can win against me, I can consider it."
"Consider?" Gern chuckled, "That works too."
Seeing Gern agree, Mihawk's eyes gradually sharpened. "Then let's let strength do the talking."
Suddenly, pedestrians on the street seemed to sense the tense atmosphere between the two and scattered.
Gern looked around and pointed to a clear dock in the distance: "No one will disturb us there, it's suitable for a spar."
Mihawk didn't object, and the two walked towards the dock, one after the other.