Chapter Seventy-Four: The True Record of History!

Early the next morning, Vivi helped Karu prepare enough water, draped him in the cloak Buffon had woven, and handed over the intelligence she had written down for him. She then sent him on his way, instructing him to travel by land directly to Alubarna, the capital of Alabasta.

Soon after, she also learned the truth she had been seeking from Saul’s mouth. The certainty of this answer not only stunned her but also left Reiju surprised—she never would have imagined that Captain Buffon... And when she considered the mysterious surge in the bounty of the White Phantom, her astonishment quickly faded into understanding.

After bidding farewell to Ace, the Juventus set sail toward Eruba. Before their departure, Buffon made a point of giving Ace a generous sum of Berries, urging him not to keep eating for free. Embarrassed but grateful, Ace scratched his head and accepted Buffon’s kindness.

Yet when Ace went to a restaurant for a hearty lunch and prepared to pay, the owner smiled and refused his Berries. “You’re a friend of Buffon the Magician Doctor—how could we possibly take your money? Not just here, but in all of Rapeseed Harbor, everything is free for you!”

Hearing this, Ace chuckled to himself, “Buffon, my friend, I really can’t thank you enough!”

Half a day later, the Juventus docked at Eruba’s port. With the exception of Saul, everyone disembarked and set out toward Yoba.

This time, however, Buffon, the man of knowledge, did not take the lead using the information in his head. Instead, he entrusted the task of guiding the way to Vivi.

Under Vivi’s guidance, they switched between camels and moving crabs, traveling for a day and a half before finally reaching Yoba.

Yet the oasis Vivi had spoken of was nowhere to be seen; the entire city was nearly buried in yellow sand, stripped of any sign of verdant life.

At the city’s edge, they saw an emaciated old man digging at the sand with a shovel. Seeing their approach, he barked in a cold tone, “Coming to Yoba at this time—are you hoping to join the rebel army? Those people are no longer here!”

Even as he spoke, he continued silently digging.

“Why has it come to this?” Reiju asked.

Hearing a woman’s voice, the man’s wariness seemed to ease a little, and he looked up, muttering, “Just before you arrived, there was a sandstorm here. For three years now, not a drop of rain has fallen. The city is slowly being swallowed by the desert, and the oasis has turned into this wasteland.”

At these words, Buffon thought of Crocodile’s “Utopia” plan. A key part of that plot involved using Dance Powder, capable of summoning rain, to draw all the kingdom’s rainfall to the capital, Alubarna.

This plan began three years ago—so for the past three years, with the exception of Alubarna, every other city in Alabasta has been trapped in endless drought.

Moreover, Crocodile had his agents deliberately create the illusion that the king was secretly transporting Dance Powder to the capital. When the commoners found out, it sparked the rise of the rebel army.

At this, Buffon gave Crocodile’s cunning a silent nod of approval. If not for the ruthlessness of his methods, Crocodile might have truly achieved something great.

Vivi drew back her hood, letting her blue hair fall free, and slowly approached the old man, her voice trembling as she said, “On behalf of the royal family of this country, I offer you my deepest apology.”

The old man looked up at Vivi, shock in his eyes. “Are you little Vivi?”

Startled by his tone, Vivi asked in confusion, “And you are...?”

“I’m Uncle Toto!”

Hearing the name, and glimpsing his withered face, Vivi’s voice quivered. “You’re Uncle Toto?”

It was no wonder she hadn’t recognized him. In her memory, Uncle Toto was a plump, wealthy merchant, bearing no resemblance to the haggard elder before her.

The three years without rain had brought unspeakable suffering to this land.

Tears welled up in Vivi’s eyes as she rushed toward Toto. But as she ran, the sand beneath her feet suddenly gave way; she was swallowed up by a pocket of quicksand.

Seeing this sudden danger, Buffon and his crew sprang into action. Buffon, switching to the powers of the Paw-Paw Fruit, plunged his hand into the sand, conjuring a compressed air bubble in his palm that blasted the sand aside.

A cavernous tunnel opened up before them.

Without hesitation, Buffon leapt into the opening, and the others followed.

They found themselves in a massive underground chamber. Fortunately, the floor was covered with sand, so Vivi suffered only a few scrapes.

Once he ensured Vivi was safe, Buffon began to examine the chamber. He scanned the stone-carved murals along the walls, but his gaze was drawn to a square monolith, half-buried at an angle in the sand at the center.

The moment Buffon saw the inscriptions, even he, the all-knowing, was astonished. “This is a Poneglyph!”

Once he confirmed the monolith’s identity, Buffon’s suture needles danced as he stitched up Vivi’s wounds, then slowly approached the Poneglyph.

Drawing on all his knowledge, Buffon set about identifying the monolith’s secrets. According to legend, there are about thirty Poneglyphs in the world: four Road Poneglyphs, nine Information Poneglyphs.

The Road Poneglyphs are red; when mapped together, they chart a course to the final island, Raftel.

This one was dark blue, so not a Road Poneglyph, and Buffon doubted it was an Information Poneglyph either.

Having learned how to read Poneglyphs from Robin, Buffon had no fear of deciphering its contents.

At that moment, Saul came to Buffon’s side, astonished. “Captain Buffon, is this a Poneglyph? You can read these characters?”

Buffon shook his head. “It should be a Poneglyph. Robin can read them.”

Without another word, Saul used his giant strength to set the monolith upright.

“Make a rubbing of the inscriptions for Robin. She might find it useful,” Buffon said. He had already deciphered a few lines, uncovering some small secrets, but many mysteries remained.

Comparing what he’d found with the history he’d learned from Robin, there were hints of connections, but everything was still tangled and unclear.

There was no rush, so the best course was to make a rubbing and study it carefully later.

But a new problem arose: among their supplies, they had only essentials for survival—no ink, no paper, no writing tools. It was an awkward dilemma.

Reiju stepped forward, drew Autumn Water from Baggio’s waist, and was about to cut her own wrist.

Seeing this, Brook protested, “Yohohoho! How can we trouble a lady with such a thing?”

He drew his cane-sword, then paused, “But a skeleton has no blood!”

At this, everyone on board Juventus burst out laughing, even Buffon’s usually stoic face curved into a smile.

Finally, Saul approached Reiju, took Autumn Water, and said, “Brook is right—this is no job for a lady!”

With that, he slashed his own wrist, splattering his blood across the Poneglyph’s surface.

Buffon spread his hands; with one, he stitched up Saul’s wound, with the other, he wove threads in the air, conjuring a vast white cloth that covered the Poneglyph as Saul’s wound was sealed.

Saul glanced at his freshly stitched wrist and laughed, “With Captain Buffon’s medical skills, we’ll be invincible at sea—it’ll be hard to die even if we try!”

He then turned to the Poneglyph and began to make the rubbing.