177 : The Ordeal Of Iron! White Barbed Death Ma... -

With a flick of Ohm’s wrist, the Eisen Whip lashed out. It didn't just strike; it curved, defying physics, weaving through the existing mesh of barbed wire to trap Zoro in a collapsing sphere of metal.

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. 177 : The Ordeal of Iron! White Barbed Death Ma...

Zoro stood at the center of the Milky Road, his boots crunching on the strange, frozen clouds. Before him stood Ohm, the Sky Breeder, his presence as cold and unyielding as the iron he commanded. Between them lay the "White Barbed Death Match"—a chaotic web of invisible, razor-sharp iron wires that hummed with a low, predatory vibration. With a flick of Ohm’s wrist, the Eisen Whip lashed out

The thick, sulfuric mist of the Ordeal of Iron didn't just obscure vision; it tasted like pennies and old blood. If Ohm could read his mind, Zoro would stop thinking

Zoro landed, the wires sagging behind him, sliced clean. Ohm gasped, a red line appearing across his chest.

"The thing about iron," Zoro said, sheathing his swords as the Priest of Skypiea collapsed into the clouds, "is that it eventually meets someone harder."

Zoro leaped, not away, but directly into the heart of the barbed storm. "108 Pound Phoenix!"