However, the pirate alliance, while seemingly posing a significant threat to the New Navy and the Navy, was not as smooth as imagined.
At one of the negotiation locations.
Standing before a makeshift conference table on a deserted island, a group of grim-faced, hulking pirate leaders confronted each other, the air thick with gunpowder.
The sound of the ocean waves, accompanied by gusts of sea breeze, crashed against the island's rocks, seemingly cheering on the impending conflict.
Seated at the center of the table was "Bloody Hand" Abyss, his bruised face covered in narrow scars, and whenever he lowered his head and squinted slightly, a cold light like that of a venomous snake flickered in his eyes.
The bottle in his hand swayed slightly with his movements, making a crisp sound:
"We must unite, or we won't be able to defeat those New Navy guys.
They have the support of Whitebeard and other strong individuals, which shouldn't be underestimated."
Abyss's voice was deep and imposing, but his words did not receive a response from everyone.
"Flame Wolf" Rossi chuckled, pointing to a sea chart on the table, his voice somewhat angry:
"Unite?
You want me to stand with these unreliable guys?
If you think I'm going to die for your interests, you're dreaming.
I've always only believed in myself."
His finger jabbed fiercely, and his clenched fist almost crushed the bottle on the table, the atmosphere suddenly becoming tense.
"Iron Hammer" Claw sat to the side, arms crossed, his face not showing much emotion, but his eyes flashed with an imperceptible fighting spirit:
"You have objections?
Then why not just fight, anyway, each pirate crew is only looking out for itself."
As soon as these words fell, the entire conference room fell into silence.
Everyone tacitly knew that the relationship between these pirate leaders was no longer a simple partnership, but a competitive rivalry.
Whether it was in the distribution of treasure or the struggle for power, they had never been able to find common ground.
But the current situation forced them to sit down and negotiate.
Everyone knew in their hearts that if they could not resolve internal differences, their alliance would be nothing more than empty talk, and they would eventually be swallowed by the New Navy.
As a cold wind blew, "Sea Beast" Mor slowly stood up, his massive frame appearing even more imposing in the dim light.
He patted the carapace on his chest, looked up at everyone, and said in a deep voice:
"Stop arguing.
We old guys all know that the one who can truly command us has always been the strong.
Which of you has that ability?"
A sneer hung on the corner of his mouth as he scanned everyone present.
In his words, an invisible sense of oppression spread out.
Although Mor's words were not loud or shouted, his overwhelming aura made it impossible for everyone to ignore him.
The faces of the other pirate leaders showed displeasure, but none dared to refute him directly.
However, at this moment, "Black Sword" Kyle snorted coldly, stood up, and his eyes flashed with cunning light:
"If you think only violence can earn respect, then why don't we just settle it and see whose ship is stronger and whose fist is harder?
If there really is someone who can take the lead, wouldn't that solve the problem?"
After Kyle finished speaking, a provocative smile appeared on the corner of his mouth, obviously ready to challenge anyone who dared to oppose him.
The other pirate leaders exchanged complex glances, some with contemptuous smiles, and others with a hint of unease.
The pirate world has always respected the strong, and Kyle was clearly using this method to provoke the weakness of others.
But his words undoubtedly pushed the atmosphere to a new height—this alliance simply did not have a real ruler.
Abyss gripped the table tightly, his knuckles turning white, his eyes dark, his heart full of entanglement.
Although he strongly advocated unity, deep down, he did not completely trust these pirates.
Everyone had their own goals, and no one was willing to completely submit to others in this chaos.
Whether it was money, power, or strategies to counter the New Navy, everyone wanted to ensure their own interests were maximized.
On the other side, a cold glint flashed in Rossi's eyes. He was not provoked by Kyle's challenge, but instead analyzed the situation more calmly:
"This war, if we can't resolve these internal conflicts, there's no point in fighting.
Everyone has their own desires, and without a strong leader, we can't achieve a real alliance."
In their view, whoever gains supreme leadership would be able to control the direction of the situation.
And such a leader should possess enough strength, or rather, a means to convince everyone.
As time passed, the atmosphere became more tense.
Negotiations remained at a standstill, and the pirates' differences seemed increasingly difficult to reconcile.
Everyone had their own plans, and no one was willing to submit to others.
As Mor said, an alliance lacking a strong presence was destined to be unstable, and without a strong person to subdue the others, the dawn of the pirate alliance would be slow to appear.
However, at this moment, a low chuckle broke the stalemate.
"Perhaps, what everyone needs is not a leader, but an 'opportunity'."
A hoarse voice sounded, and the eyes of all the pirate leaders turned to the source of the sound—it was "Black Dragon" Danhart, who had been silent all along.
He stood aside, his eyes flashing with complex light, a faint smile on his lips:
"I can give everyone an opportunity, but it is an opportunity that must be paid for."
His words were like a spark, igniting the hearts of everyone.
Black Dragon Danhart's words exploded in the conference room like thunder, instantly breaking the silence.
In the eyes of every pirate leader, complex lights flickered—both greed and vigilance.
Indeed, benefits are the most likely things to cause both conflict and consensus.
Danhart stood in place, a deep smile on his lips. He knew that only benefits and strength could completely change this deadlock.
There were no flowery words on the table, only his steady and hoarse voice echoed in everyone's ears:
"We each have our own desires, our own strengths, but ultimately, only two things can unite us—benefits, and… strength."
His eyes slowly swept over everyone present, his deep gaze cutting across each face like a blade.
He knew that every word he spoke was stirring up waves. The most fundamental driving force in the hearts of pirates, especially this group of blood-soaked powerhouses, would always be those two words:
Benefits, and strength.
Rossi laughed coldly, the bottle in his hand making a slight clinking sound.
There was no fear in his eyes, but rather a disdainful smile:
"You're right, Danhart.
Without strength, all benefits are just empty words.
Tell me, what kind of benefit is worth my bowing my head?"
...
