In a certain area of the New World, a large three-masted ship with a bow resembling a whale was anchored on the calm sea.
If there were outsiders present, they would surely recognize the origin of this large three-masted ship - it was none other than the Moby Dick, under the command of Whitebeard Edward Newgate, the Emperor of the Sea.
"Is that crazy woman, Charlotte Linlin, starting to claim territory again?"
On the deck of the Moby Dick, a man with a pompadour hairstyle leaned against the railing, reading the latest newspaper.
He was the captain of the fourth division of the Whitebeard Pirates, known as Thatch.
Although he was the head chef in charge of all the cooks on Whitebeard's ship, he enjoyed reading newspapers, keeping himself updated with the latest information.
Around the deck, members of the Whitebeard Pirates sat or stood casually, without any formalities. They all seemed very relaxed.
In front of them on the deck, there was an array of fine wine and food.
Obviously, they were having a banquet on the deck, a customary activity for pirates after a major haul.
No need for tables and chairs.
As long as there was wine and meat, it was good enough.
"Thatch, while everyone else is drinking and feasting, you're here reading the newspaper?"
Another Whitebeard pirate, the captain of the sixth division, Blamenco, approached Thatch with a bowl of wine in hand, looking at him as if he were a fool.
"What's the matter, is there no barbecue or wine left? If not, just have the little guys below deck prepare some more."
Thatch continued to read the newspaper without lifting his head.
"You, buddy, you're making me sad by sitting here all alone reading the newspaper like this," Blamenco said, with a look of disappointment.
Helplessly, Thatch folded the newspaper and looked at Blamenco. It seemed that Blamenco's approach was the only way to get him to stop.
"How about we have a drink together then?" Thatch said reluctantly.
Upon hearing Thatch's words, Blamenco smiled and then took out food and wine from the two pockets on his chin, quickly filling the space in front of them on the deck.
After the two of them had drunk their fill, Blamenco glanced at the newspaper that Thatch had placed on the deck.
"Moriah of the Moonlight? Is it news about that guy again..."
Seeing the name highlighted in bold on the front page, Blamenco raised an eyebrow.
Thatch nodded. "Yes."
Blamenco picked up the newspaper and glanced at the headlines casually, scratching his head. "There are more and more troublesome guys on the sea these days."
"Yeah," Thatch agreed, unable to help but sigh. It could be said that in the past two years, many troublesome figures had emerged, and some of them were even formidable opponents for captains like themselves.
"It won't be long before these troublesome guys enter the New World," Blamenco said thoughtfully.
"Yeah, they're gaining so much momentum. I wonder which faction they'll join or challenge when they enter the New World," Thatch added.
"But those things have nothing to do with us. After all, our old man is Whitebeard!" Blamenco declared proudly.
Thatch and Blamenco nodded in agreement.
Meanwhile, in the North Blue, near the Borujia Kingdom.
A ship resembling a flamingo was constantly attacking the military ship chasing closely behind it.
"Doflamingo! What should we do next? That guy has been biting onto us and won't let go!"
A disgusting man wrapped in a blanket, with mucus dripping from his nose, asked anxiously.
"Change course, continue heading north. I don't believe that bastard will follow me to the Arctic!"
Doflamingo stared at the blind man with a sword-cane on the deck of the pursuing warship, speaking fiercely.
He had thought that the pressure would ease after Hawk left the North Blue, but it turned out to be even more difficult than before.
If he hadn't received word that the Devil Fruit might appear in the Arctic, he would have gone to the New World a long time ago.
"Vice Admiral, the opponent has changed course and seems to be heading towards the Arctic. Should we continue to pursue?" a rear admiral asked with reverence, seeing the true meaning of justice in front of him.
"How are our supplies?"
"Food and fresh water are sufficient, and there are no problems with weapons and equipment. However, the cold-resistant supplies on the ship are severely inadequate, making it difficult for us to sustain prolonged activity in the polar region."
"Okay, then drive them into the polar region, and then we'll turn back. By the way, how's the latest information gathering on Germa 66?"
The vice admiral, with only the whites of his eyes visible, gazed at the ship in the distance and spoke calmly.