"Betrayal stings like rubbing salt in a wound!"
As Shanks uttered these words expressionlessly to the crowd before him, he suddenly hurled Luffy's pants, now stained a revolting yellow, toward them.
A pungent odor filled the air as the terrifying excrement traced a graceful arc, hurtling toward the group.
Amidst the chaotic cries of dismay, the tavern soon returned to an eerie calm.
"You really are nothing like the pirates I've known... I've never seen one who throws a kid's shit-stained pants at his own crew," Beckman remarked, visibly embarrassed.
Covering his eyes, he silently edged away from Shanks.
Was it out of shame for Shanks, disgust at the smell, or perhaps both?
"Hey! Beckman! Get back here!"
Shanks was particularly sensitive at the moment.
Noticing Beckman's subtle retreat, he reached out, slung an arm around his first mate's shoulders, and forcefully dragged him back.
Seeing the look of utter resignation on his vice-captain's face, Shanks felt an odd sense of satisfaction.
"Alright Jake, let's continue discussing our cooperation!"
Shanks' earlier antics weren't just about making Beckman smell Luffy's shit—he also wanted his first mate's judgment on whether to work with Jake.
Jake, of course, saw right through it.
But he didn't mind.
After all, such things couldn't be hidden from someone as sharp as Beckman.
"Our cooperation is simple. The main focus is peace in the New World. I've already made thorough preparations regarding Whitebeard. Right now, the New World is embroiled in territorial disputes, but have you noticed? Most of the conflicts between the Emperors happen among you few. Whitebeard's crew, on the other hand, has been almost exclusively fighting the Marines."
Hearing this, Shanks turned to Beckman in surprise.
"Is that true? How come I didn't know?"
Beckman rubbed his temples, exasperated.
"You idiot captain spends every day either throwing parties or sneaking off to spar with that hawk-eyed swordsman. Of course you wouldn't know. But yes, it's just as Rear Admiral Jake said. Whitebeard hasn't clashed with any other pirates recently. Most of their battles have been against the Marines stationed in the New World. As for the specifics of those battles... we don't know."
At this, Jake smiled and revealed the truth.
"The specifics are that no one has died. The battlefields you've seen? Just both sides emptying their ammunition. The reality is, we've been exchanging goods, weapons, funds, and intelligence with the Whitebeard Pirates."
Shanks' expression turned peculiar.
He studied Jake for a moment before asking, puzzled,
"What's your goal in all this?"
"It's simple. The Whitebeard Pirates will become the first adventurers of the new era. I'll make the man closest to becoming the Pirate King into the man closest to becoming the Adventurer King when the new age arrives."
"You've already convinced Whitebeard? That old man isn't just stubborn—do you really think he'd agree with your perspective?"
Beckman was skeptical of Jake's words.
He didn't believe someone like Whitebeard would ever approve of Jake's plan.
To this, Jake merely laughed and said.
"Pirates are ultimately just a byproduct of the World Government's tyrannical rule. If the very foundations of this world were to change, if most people could live self-sufficiently, if oppression and war were reduced by over ninety percent—would there really still be so many desperate outlaws?
No one wants to become a pirate.
Most turn to piracy for a simple reason: they have no other way to survive.
Only a tiny fraction do so purely out of love for freedom or an innate rebellious spirit.
And those people, in my eyes, aren't truly pirates at all.
They're merely swept up by the tides of the era, their perceptions twisted until they mistake themselves for pirates when they're really just adventurers.
Take your crew, the Red Hair Pirates, for example. I've investigated you. From the day you set sail to now, you've never once harmed an ordinary person.
Your crew is so honest that when you couldn't afford a meal, you'd stay and wash dishes for the owner. When you lacked money for supplies, you chose to work as laborers on the island instead of resorting to theft.
Do you really think you qualify as pirates?
The pirates I see—when they can't pay for a meal, the owner should offer it for free and hand over all the Berries in the shop as tribute.
Otherwise, they'd chop off the owner's head without hesitation.
The pirates I see—when they can't afford supplies, they storm into town, slaughter anyone who stands in their way, and take everything: women, money, lives—all just playthings to them.
Those are the real pirates.
And they're the remnants of this era that I'll eradicate without exception!
For those pirates, my favorite thing is to tie them up, hang them, and let the civilians they've oppressed pick up stones and slowly beat them to death."
By the time Jake finished speaking, the ferocity in his eyes was almost terrifying.
Beckman took a drag from his cigarette, studying Jake with a thoughtful gaze.
"I agree with your views, and I support your methods. But I'm still curious—what if Whitebeard refuses to follow your plan and insists on remaining the symbol of piracy?"
Jake's response was brief and firm.
"I'll defeat him. Again and again. If he still refuses to let go of the old era, I'll let him sink with it. But that's the worst outcome—bad for the dawn of the new age. So it's the last resort."
"So if we refuse your demands, our fate would be to die with the old era as well?"
Jake smiled and nodded, deadly serious.
"The Great Pirate Era will end. This age has spilled too much innocent blood. Ultimate romance and freedom belong only to a select few. For most, this era offers nothing but suffering and death."
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