I Sell Gacha Jars in One Piece Chapter 50: Victory and Defeat

"Interesting."

When a master makes a move, you know at a glance. From Koushirou's very first strike, Amon could tell he was the real thing. The blade ca straight for the thinnest seam in Amon's guard.

Whoosh. Air split with a faint hiss. Amon's figure blurred like a ghost and flashed across the yard to Koushirou's front. His wooden sword swept out in a lightning arc that brooked no delay.

Koushirou's eyes narrowed. He had not expected Amon to et weakness with fiercer offense, a cut filled with the resolve to slice through anything. He could only shift attack into defense. He was not confident he could survive a mutual trade with that blow.

His combat sense was no less keen. Though he changed late, his hands did not scramble. With a light draw and a seemingly targetless cut through empty air, his wooden blade arrived at the perfect angle to catch Amon's sweeping counter.

Thud.

They passed shoulder to shoulder and halted side by side. Their wooden swords did not rebound. The two blades stuck along each other's length as if glued, a strange gleam rippling over the wood.

"What is that..."

"Such speed."

"What a crushing sword intent."

Vmmm...

Before the onlookers could make sense of it, a humming wave rolled out from the locked blades, a pressure like a sword gale that washed across the courtyard. People around the ring staggered two steps back without aning to.

A heartbeat later Amon and Koushirou broke apart, then exploded forward again, closing in with shocking speed.

Tak Tak tak...

Wooden swords crackled like strings of firecrackers. They circled, then tightened their footwork until they were spinning in place. Figures blurred and vanished. Only the crisscross of slashing wood remained, carving ripples of wind through the air.

More villagers crowded the walls, but none could see the exchanges. They fretted and craned their necks helplessly.

Dragon watched the trading rhythm and fell silent again, thinking.

Clang. A ringing impact cut the spin. Both n stopped at once.

"Exhilarating. Master, your title of fad swordsman is well deserved. I concede." Amon looked at the snapped half of his wooden sword and clasped a fist in salute.

Koushirou did not smile at the praise. A wry look touched his face. "Mr. Amon overpraises . I am the one who lost."

He let the armant hardening fade from his hands. The mont the black sheen vanished, the wooden sword in his grip sagged, then crumbled and fell in splinters. The reason his blade had not broken was the Armant imbued into it. Amon had preserved his weapon only through the purity of his technique.

On that point alone, Koushirou felt inferior.

He had lasted this long only by sheathing his wood in Armant until it was like a black blade. Even then he had won no more than half a move. If Amon had used Armant, Koushirou believed he would already be down.

As for why Amon had not used it, Koushirou guessed it was to save his face before the students. If the master of the dojo were cut down in a few exchanges, his seat would lose its dignity. A swordsman this strong, with a heart this broad, left him convinced.

"Who actually won?"

The crowd blinked between the two. Amon had said he yielded. Their master said he had lost. Confusion spread.

"Hahaha, why fuss about winning and losing. Co, back to drinking." Amon laughed, tossed the broken sword aside, and returned to the pavilion to raise his cup.

"Heh, I was the petty one." Koushirou chuckled and followed him back.

The laughter rose again as they settled around the table. They drank deep into the night.

...

Back in his room, Amon circulated his energy. The warmth of wine evaporated at once. After the body cleansing, alcohol no longer touched him.

"System, where is my exclusive jar."

He had not forgotten. His current strength still felt a touch short. If today had been a duel to the death, he suspected Koushirou would have taken it. He needed a jump in power, fast. Dragon had said a Marine admiral was on the way. Against the strongest arms of Marine HQ, he was not ready.

[Ding. Ten sales confird. Granting one exclusive jar. Please continue the good work.]

Stung by Amon's scorn, the system hurried the jar into his hands.

Amon's eyes lit at the sight. He cracked it without a second thought.

Clang.

Golden light flared. Three items tumbled into his palms.

One glance and joy blood across his face.

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