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"Isn't it just a casual question? Why the big reaction?"
Whitebeard smiled and said, "Let's get down to business. What gift should I prepare for the child when we meet for the first time?"
The term "bad friend" was the best way to describe the current Whitebeard.
Larson finally couldn't hold back any longer. "I really don't have a daughter. You mustn't listen to her nonsense!"
"Come on," Marco chimed in from a distance. "People call you Pops. If you weren't her father, who would be so shameless as to be called Pops, right, Plank?"
Plank, who had been trying his best to reduce his presence, suddenly trembled. He turned around and said with a grin, "I don't know either."
"Ugh."
Larson sighed. The scene in front of him felt all too familiar, much like when he had brought Gion back and they insisted on what they wanted to do to her. He couldn't argue with them then, and he found himself in the same position now.
He didn't say much; he simply lay back on the chaise lounge and closed his eyes to rest. "Who would joke about something like this?"
Whitebeard thought for a moment and found Larson's reasoning reasonable. He knew Larson and understood that he was not that kind of person.
Only Marco felt that Larson was deliberately refusing to admit the truth.
After a while, Larson said, "Marco, go and get the sword from the cabin."
In addition to his Sharingan, Larson was quite skilled in swordsmanship. Although he had never had a teacher, thanks to the Sharingan, he could copy others' movements as long as he had witnessed them once.
Over the years, quite a few pirates had come to the island who possessed swordsmanship. While their skills weren't extremely high, the sheer volume of techniques Larson had copied was enough. After integrating and improving upon various styles, his own swordsmanship had reached a remarkably high level.
It wouldn't be an exaggeration to say he was now a formidable swordsman.
Unfortunately, he hadn't had a suitable weapon for quite some time. The knife he purchased at the island weapons store had been the best they had, but it was merely an ordinary blade. A supreme weapon like Kimpira was in a league of its own.
Now that he had finally encountered a supreme-grade sword, Larson naturally wanted to possess it.
Marco, accustomed to being ordered around, obediently headed to the cabin to help Larson retrieve the sword.
Upon entering the cabin, Marco noticed Gion kneeling silently and saw Kimpira resting on the stool.
"Uh, hey, hello."
Instead of immediately getting the sword, Marco greeted Gion.
He was genuinely curious about this girl who had suddenly appeared and was likely Larson's daughter.
However, he received no response from Gion.
Marco scratched his head, feeling like a shy boy who struggled to communicate with girls. "Well, if you're thirsty or hungry, just tell me."
Yet Gion remained silent, kneeling there without a word.
Seeing her like this, Marco decided against pressing further. He picked up Kimpira from the ground and walked outside.
"Wait, wait a minute!"
Marco halted suddenly and looked back in surprise. "Are you finally willing to speak?"
Gion looked up at him, sadness lingering in her eyes.
"Can you help me take this to my Pops?"
Marco's eyes lit up, and he quickly approached. "Of course! What do you want to give him?"
"This picture."
As she spoke, a photo floated out from her arms and landed on the ground.
Marco stared at the photo with wide eyes. "Larson is really such a person!"
With that, he bent down, picked up the photo, and ran out angrily.
On the deck, Larson, who was clinking glasses with Whitebeard, suddenly heard Marco's furious voice. "Larson, you're really going too far!"
Marco's outburst immediately attracted the attention of everyone present.
Larson looked at Marco approaching and said, exasperated, "Why are you so angry?"
"Pops, look at this!"
Now Marco was smarter; he no longer confronted Larson alone but instead sought Whitebeard's support.
Marco handed the photo he took from Gion to Whitebeard. "Pops, that girl gave this to me."
"What?"
Larson raised his eyebrows. "What is it? Show me."
As he said that, he reached to grab it.
Marco quickly dodged with the photo. "You're trying to destroy the evidence! I can't give it to you."
Larson said, "destroy what?? I just want to see what the female marine showed you."
"No way!"
Marco held the photo tightly in his arms, looking at Larson warily.
"Marco, show me what that is."
Whitebeard was also intrigued and reached out to take the photo from Marco's hand.
Marco knew he had to listen to Whitebeard, and he intended to show him the photo all along.
Larson also wanted to see what was in the photo, but Marco blocked him, as if to signal that if Larson took one step closer, he would lose the evidence.
If Larson pressed the issue, Marco knew he couldn't actually stop him, but at that moment, Larson felt guilty for trying to take it. So, he merely stood there.
Plank walked over curiously at this point. Marco didn't stop him. He came to Whitebeard and squatted down to look at the photo as well.
The next second, both he and Whitebeard wore particularly astonished expressions.
"What happened?"
Seeing the expressions of the two men shift, Larson felt a sudden sense of dread in his chest.
Whitebeard remained silent for two seconds before stating, "Larson, you'd better see for yourself."
With Whitebeard's words, Marco no longer dared to withhold the photo from Larson.
Whitebeard handed the picture to Larson. As Larson looked at the photo, his expression froze.
"This...this...this..."
He stammered, but the rest of his words just wouldn't come out.
Whitebeard stared at Larson's face, internally debating whether Larson could be this kind of person, but the evidence was laid out before them.
Larson's grip on the photo tightened, and it began to crumple in his hand.
He closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, but he still couldn't comprehend the unexplainable photograph.
The photo slipped from his hand and fell to the deck.
The photo that produced such a change in expression wasn't a horrifying scene but simply an image of a middle-aged man holding a four- or five-year-old child.
The only problem was that the man bore an almost identical face to Larson!
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