The thick, sulfuric mist of the Ordeal of Iron didn't just obscure vision; it tasted like pennies and old blood.
Zoro landed, the wires sagging behind him, sliced clean. Ohm gasped, a red line appearing across his chest. 177 : The Ordeal of Iron! White Barbed Death Ma...
"I see your heart," Ohm droned, his dog Holy sitting motionless behind him. "It beats with the rhythm of a man who thinks he can cut anything." The thick, sulfuric mist of the Ordeal of
Zoro leaped, not away, but directly into the heart of the barbed storm. "108 Pound Phoenix!" "I see your heart," Ohm droned, his dog
Zoro didn't retreat. He couldn't. To move backward was to be shredded by the "White Barbed" perimeter. Instead, he spun, a whirlwind of steel meeting iron. Clang!
He closed his eyes. If Ohm could read his mind, Zoro would stop thinking. He focused on the breath of the iron—the vibration of the barbs, the tension in the whip. He wasn't looking for a gap in the wires; he was looking for the soul of the metal.