The natural system started off strong, but the navy finally reached its peak!

Chapter 281 Planning to try something different?

Consciousness slowly rises from the deep, dark seabed like a sunken ship.

The first thing to be restored is the sense of touch.

Beneath me was the soft touch of a mattress, and my body was covered in light fabric.

The air was filled with the faint smell of disinfectant, mixed with a subtle, almost imperceptible fragrance.

Then, the hearing gradually became clearer.

The faint sound of waves crashing against the shore could be heard outside the window; closer still, the soft scratching of a pen on paper and a steady, gentle breathing sound could be heard.

Finally, Mihawk slowly opened his sharp, eagle-like eyes.

The first thing that catches the eye is the pristine white ceiling, simple in design yet spotless.

Then his pupils moved slightly to adjust to the light. His eyes were initially a little confused, but quickly regained their usual clarity and sharpness.

He turned his head slightly, his gaze sweeping towards the edge of the bed.

The massive, heavily embroidered black sword, Night, leaned quietly against the bedside table.

The black blade gleamed with a dark sheen in the sunlight streaming through the window; it was spotless, clearly having been carefully polished and maintained.

Not far from the foot of the bed, a naval nurse in a white uniform and cap was sitting on a small stool.

With his head down, he was intently writing something in the medical record. The rustling sound came from there.

Hawkeye didn't say anything; he simply focused on sensing his own body.

The excruciating pain and burning sensation that had once gripped my internal organs had vanished without a trace, replaced by a deep-seated fatigue and a slight sense of weakness.

But apart from that, I couldn't feel any obvious pain.

Thinking of this, he slowly tried to move his fingers, and everything was normal.

Then, instinctively, he raised the hand that wasn't attached to the IV and placed it on his chest.

He clearly remembered that place had been slashed hard by Gern's black sword, Bahuang, which was wrapped in lava-like shockwaves. Even with Armament Haki defense, it must have left terrible scars.

However, the skin that my fingertips touched was smooth, without even the slightest bump or unevenness.

"How is that possible?" A hint of doubt flashed in Hawkeye's eyes.

Even with the world's top medical technology, it would be impossible for such a severe injury to be healed so perfectly in such a short time, without leaving a single scar.

This goes beyond the scope of "healing" and is almost "regeneration".

Just then, the nurse in charge of taking notes seemed to have finished her work, closed the medical record book, and looked up.

He met Hawkeye's scrutinizing eyes.

"Oh!" The nurse was startled and let out a short exclamation, almost dropping the medical record in her hand.

She clearly hadn't expected this imposing figure, who had been unconscious for so long, to suddenly wake up, and with such a commanding gaze.

"You, you're awake?!" The nurse quickly stood up, a slight blush rising on her face, looking somewhat flustered.

After all, our Mihawk is still very handsome, not to mention he has a great physique!

"Please, please wait a moment! I'll go inform them right away!" After saying that, she almost ran out of the ward, her footsteps quickly fading into the distance.

The nurse left, and the ward returned to silence.

Hawkeye glanced silently at the back of his hand where the IV needle was stuck, and without any hesitation, reached out and pulled it out.

Using the strength of his arms, he slowly sat up and leaned against the headboard.

Although I can still feel soreness and emptiness deep in my muscles during the movements, my basic mobility has been restored.

He looked down again and carefully examined his chest, arms... all the places he remembered that had been severely injured, but the skin was as smooth as new.

Just as he was pondering this incredible recovery, a slightly teasing voice came from the door of the ward.

“I know you like to wear revealing clothes, so I had Ribo use the healing fruit’s power to prevent the scars from being left.”

Hearing the sound, Eagle Eye looked up.

Gern was leaning against the door frame, wearing a simple white shirt and navy trousers.

He wasn't wearing a cloak of justice; he had his arms crossed over his chest and looked at him with a faint smile on his face.

"How are you feeling, 'World's Greatest Swordsman'?" Gern walked into the ward, his gaze sweeping over the IV needle that Hawkeye had pulled out, and raised an eyebrow. "How are you feeling after sleeping for two months?"

Ribo's Healing Fruit ability is so good that even Sakazuki and Kuzan praised it!

Treating your injury took some effort, but it seems to be working quite well.

Hawkeye didn't answer immediately, but stared intently at Gern, a complex expression flashing across his face.

He then raised his hand and touched his smooth chest again, before looking at Gern.

His voice was a little hoarse from not speaking for a long time, but it still carried his characteristic coldness: "Two months?"

"Ah, a full two months." Gern walked to the window, looking out at the bustling G-10 base plaza.

"You were seriously injured, with ruptured internal organs, broken bones, and exhausted... It's a testament to your extraordinary physical condition and willpower that you survived."

Hawkeye was silent for a moment, then turned his gaze to Black Knife Night, who was leaning against the bedside.

"That duel..."

“You lost.” Gern turned around, stating the fact calmly, without any boasting or pity, simply stating a result.

"An indisputable and complete defeat. After you lost consciousness, I was the one who pulled you out of the pit."

But you're still pretty good; you managed to stay upright even under these circumstances.

If I hadn't sensed your presence disappear, I would have thought it was going to be another tough battle!

Upon hearing this, Hawkeye did not show any frustration or anger. Instead, as if he had confirmed some fact, he slowly closed his eyes.

A few seconds later, he opened his eyes again, his eyes now clear and calm.

"Looks like it's the same as it was ten years ago!"

Mihawk acknowledged his failure, but he was not discouraged at all. Instead, he clearly saw his shortcomings and the heights he needed to reach in the future.

Gern looked at him and smiled: "You're truly remarkable for being able to recognize and accept reality so quickly."

"How about it? Tired of sitting on the throne of 'World's Greatest Swordsman'? Planning to try something different in the Navy?"

Upon hearing this, Hawkeye did not coldly refuse as Gern had expected; instead, a very faint, almost imperceptible smile appeared at the corner of his mouth.

He did not answer, but silently got up and slowly but firmly took off his blue and white striped hospital gown, revealing his strong and undamaged upper body.

He then picked up his own clothes, which were neatly folded on a chair nearby (the soldiers had taken them from the coffin ship).

He calmly put on that familiar burgundy patterned shirt and black trousers, along with a white fleece scarf.

After fastening the last button of his shirt, Mihawk turned his head to look at Gern, who had been watching with his arms crossed and a playful smile on his face, and said softly.

I will keep my promise.

"Although... I have indeed gotten a bit used to wandering alone."

"Oh dear!" Just then, Gern interrupted him, his teasing smile widening, adding, "But at least you don't have to row the boat alone with the black knife anymore, right?"

As soon as Gern said this, Mihawk, who had just reached out to grasp the hilt of the Black Sword Night and was about to put the Supreme Grade Sword back on his back, suddenly froze!

"..."

The world's greatest swordsman staggered noticeably and unusually, almost losing his balance and grabbing the bedside table for support.

He had his back to Gern, and his shoulders seemed to shrug slightly, as if he was trying to suppress something.

There was a long silence of two or three seconds, filled with an indescribable awkwardness (mainly on Hawkeye's part) and the pleasure of a successful prank (on Gern's part).

Ultimately, Hawkeye acted as if nothing had happened, moving at a slightly faster speed than usual.

With a swift motion, he steadily hoisted the Black Blade Night onto his back, but his ramrod-straight back seemed to exude a stiff aura of "I don't want to talk."

Finally, Gern couldn't help but chuckle, stepping forward to pat Hawkeye on the shoulder: "Let's go, Jorah Mihawk, my 'World's Greatest Swordsman'."

He deliberately dragged out his words, "Let me show you around your new office first."

Don't worry, I specially chose a quiet corner with a private little garden for you, I know you like peace and quiet..."

“But before that, it’s just the two of us here…” Gern paused slightly, leaned closer, lowered his voice, but a smile remained on his face.

"Tell me secretly, how do you deal with those things when you're alone at sea in that 'coffin lid' boat..."

"Hmm, unavoidable 'daily needs'?"

He blinked, then continued speculating in that "I understand you" tone, "No... it really is just secretly finding a deserted area, and then..."

Hawkeye: "..." (Silence is Cambridge tonight, and also his last vestige of dignity)

He quickened his pace and walked away without looking back. His back remained upright, yet it exuded a resolute and chilling aura that said, "Don't touch me."

He even took each step harder than usual.

"Haha, wait for me! Mihawk!"

"I was just kidding! Really!" Guern laughed and quickly followed, his tone cheerful like a big boy who had just pulled off a prank.

Chapter 282 The Broken Warring States Period

Marine Headquarters, Marineford.

The atmosphere in the marshal's office was so heavy it was almost palpable.

Buddha of the Warring States period, dressed in the coat of a naval admiral, sat upright behind a large desk.

However, his expression at this moment was completely inconsistent with his reputation as a "wise general".

A marshal's forehead veins throbbed slightly, his lips twitched, and he gripped a document that had just been urgently delivered from G-10 base tightly in his hand.

The look in his eyes seemed to see not a report, but something indescribable, a terrifying thing that pollutes the mind.

"Damn it! Damn it! Damn it!" Sengoku finally couldn't hold back any longer and squeezed out a few words that were out of character. "Can anyone tell me why?!"

Why is it that the world's greatest swordsman, Dracule Mihawk, who is a loner, arrogant, and doesn't even give much face to the government (invitation to become a Shichibukai)?

"Would I really have anything to do with that bastard Guern, who's always causing me trouble and has his own faction?!"

He slammed the document on the table with a loud bang, startling the goat that was dozing on the coffee table next to him.

"And what the hell is this report's reasoning?!" Sengoku practically roared as he grabbed the document and hurled it precisely at Garp, who was secretly reaching for the senbei bag on his desk.

The document was slapped onto Karp's grinning face. He slowly took it off and took a closer look.

The reporter's signature was written in a flamboyant style, bearing the name "Gern," while the explanation section contained an extremely arrogant line:

[I apologize, but due to my overwhelming personal charisma, the world's greatest swordsman, Dracule Mihawk, has become deeply attracted to me and unable to resist, thus choosing to join my ranks. Please be aware. Don't worry.]

Below the photo is a picture of Gern with his index and middle fingers placed side by side on his lips, blowing a kiss, with Mihawk's back in the background.

Garp stared at the words and the photo for two seconds, then burst into a deafening laugh: "Pfft, hahahahahaha!!! Charisma?!"

Deeply attracted?! Completely captivated?! Hahaha! Sengoku, look at this kid, he's still so funny!

It's a bit of an exaggeration, but I have to admit, that kid Gern's personal charm is quite something...

Garp's laughter and "praise" came to an abrupt halt.

Because he saw Zhan Guo's face, which was as black as the bottom of a burnt pot, and his eyes that looked like they were about to spew lava.

“…Uh…” Garp wisely shut his mouth and silently put the file back on the table.

Then, with lightning speed, he grabbed a handful of rice crackers, stuffed them into his mouth, and pretended to be just an innocent old man eating snacks.

His eyes darted to the ceiling, and he made muffled "creaking" sounds.

After all, his son, Dragon, whose Revolutionary Army was officially established after the Ohara incident, has been causing quite a stir lately, even though he brought back a cute little grandson for him.

Seeing that the old bastard was unusually quiet, Sengoku took a deep breath and forcibly suppressed the urge to flip the desk over.

He slowly shifted his murderous gaze to a figure in the corner of the office, trying to minimize his presence.

Admiral Kizaru, Borsalino, was casually filing his nails with a small file, legs crossed, as if everything around him was irrelevant.

Sengoku forced an extremely "amiable" smile onto his face, but his voice sounded like it had been pulled out of an ice cellar: "Po, Lu, Sa, Li, No."