The pirates sat and forgot, and they really believed the nine truths and one lie.

Magellan swam towards the Navy Headquarters, which was a relief for the people of Enies Lobby. They were confident that the Navy was capable and could handle the situation. The officials left behind on Enies Lobby just wanted to remain invisible and not be seen by any faction.

With Impel Down gone and most pirates released, this is undoubtedly another major blow to the World Government's prestige. One of the three major organizations has been crippled, and it's unknown how many years it will take to rebuild the Celestial Dragons.

With their business concluded, the members of the Clown Pirates, riding on the black dragon, were preparing to leave the venomous sea and return to their secret temporary base somewhere in the New World.

Then, using the White Zetsu's elusive plant grids for the final relocation, Buggy was quite cautious, ensuring that the true location of their base, Hive Island, would not be exposed.

Just as the black dragon flapped its massive wings, poised to strike, Kokushibo, who had been silently standing on the dragon's neck like a rock with his eyes closed, suddenly opened all six of his eyes without warning.

"Wait," Kokushibo's voice was cold, yet carried a chilling solemnity.

Almost at the same instant he issued his warning, an indescribable, extremely sharp aura descended without warning from the distant horizon.

A massive, condensed, green flying slash tore through the clouds, ignoring spatial distance and moving at a speed beyond visual perception, slashing with unparalleled precision toward Acnologia's dragon head.

The sword strike, "Sword Intent Soaring to the Sky," was swift, accurate, and ruthless, completely blocking all of Acnologia's evasive routes, leaving him with no way to avoid it in the air.

Acnologia's eyes, gleaming with awe and disbelief, revealed a look of utter horror. He could clearly sense that the power contained in that strike was enough to pierce his seemingly indestructible dragon scales.

Standing in front of the dragon's head, Kokushibo's figure flashed like a ghost, blocking the path of the green slash. The strangely shaped blade in his hand, the Hollow Cry God, with its blade made of flesh and blood and emitting an ominous red light, was already unsheathed.

"You go first," Kokushibo said, his back to the people on the dragon's back, leaving behind only these four short and cold words.

His six eyes were fixed on the green slash that was flying towards him. There was no fear in his eyes. Instead, his eyes burned with the kind of fervent fighting spirit that only comes when you encounter an evenly matched opponent.

Before he could finish speaking, Kokushibo flicked his wrist, and Hollow Cry God drew an incredibly profound trajectory in the air: "Breath of the Moon - First Form - Dark Moon - Night Palace!"

A massive, pale blade of energy, with irregularly jagged edges and a phantom moon mark at its center, erupted silently from the blade like a kiss of death slashed from the moonlit night of the underworld, meeting the green slash head-on.

In the next instant, the two flying slashes, representing the pinnacle of swordsmanship in this era, collided solidly.

Contrary to expectations, there was no earth-shattering explosion. Instead, at the center of the collision, space seemed to twist and collapse, with extremely sharp sword energies cutting and annihilating each other.

All the creatures on the black dragon's back, whether they were Black Sperm, Pochi, or the captured Level 6 pirates, all changed their expressions drastically.

Overwhelmed by the terrifying sword energy that far exceeded their comprehension, they were so stunned that they could hardly breathe. This was a duel between the world's top sword masters.

After a long while, the two powerful strikes, capable of cleaving mountains, slowly dissipated into nothingness after intense mutual consumption. In the sky, only a blue area that had been forcibly cleared and energy ripples that had not yet subsided remained.

With the crisis temporarily averted, Acnologia no longer hesitated. It let out a low roar, its massive dragon wings flapping at full power, carrying the people on its back like a black meteor, speeding away from this place of trouble in the opposite direction from the Revolutionary Army's retreat without looking back.

What the black dragon finds most annoying are these old monsters with swords, who can easily cut through the dragon's scales. For Acnologia, dealing with Devil Fruit users is his comfort zone, but against powerful enemies like great swordsmen, most of his methods will be ineffective.

Watching the black dragon disappear into the distance, Kokushibo slowly withdrew his gaze. He allowed his body to be affected by gravity, plummeting from thousands of meters in the air like a meteorite towards the toxic sea below.

Just as his toes were about to touch the venomous sea that could corrode steel, the terrifying momentum of his fall was instantly dissolved into nothingness.

His body became as light as a feather, and in the end, he simply touched the viscous sea of ​​poison with his toes, creating a barely perceptible ripple.

He then placed his feet firmly on the sea surface, as if he were walking on solid ground rather than in a deadly poisonous sea.

Kokushibo slowly raised his head, his six eerie eyes traversing several nautical miles to precisely lock onto a tiny black dot on the distant horizon.

The small boat was moving at an astonishing speed; one second it was just a black dot on the horizon, and the next second its outline was clearly visible.

It was a simple, even somewhat shabby, single-person coffin boat. It had no sails, yet it sped through the dark green poisonous waves at an illogical speed, with a figure standing proudly at the bow.

He wore a black top hat adorned with white fur, a burgundy patterned shirt, and a long black cape, with his chest bare and an antique cross hanging from his neck.

What is most striking is the Supreme Greatsword behind him, taller than a man and encased in a cross-shaped scabbard, and his golden eyes, like those of an eagle soaring through the sky.

The newcomer was none other than the world-renowned and universally recognized greatest swordsman in the world—Djorakor Mihawk!

Mihawk's small boat came to a steady stop on the sea about a hundred meters away from Kokushibo. He raised his head and his eagle eyes, which seemed to see through all illusions, met Kokushibo's six inhuman eyes without fear, transcending the distance of space.

In the air, it seemed as if invisible lightning was colliding fiercely, and the two powerful figures who stood at the pinnacle of swordsmanship did not even need to say a word.

For Mihawk, sensing the presence of a strange and powerful swordsman in this sea area, whose sword intent was so vast and unpredictable, would be the greatest regret of his life if he could not spar with him to verify his swordsmanship.

The same applies to Kokushibo. Only the most intense clash of swords can release the loneliness that has accumulated over hundreds of years. He has not encountered a worthy swordsman for too long, and those who dared to challenge him have long since returned to hell.

The sea breeze seemed to stand still for a moment, and the turbulent sea of ​​poison temporarily calmed down. It was as if only these two swordsmen, gazing at each other across the sea, and the famous swords in their hands, yearning for battle, remained in the world.