The three of them were greatly alarmed. They had no idea whether Jinbe had noticed them, but they did not dare make a sound. Nor did they know whether anyone else was in the cabin. They did not want to alert the enemy; they only wanted to ambush and kill Jinbe while he was away, then enter the cabin to investigate.
As Jinbe drew closer and closer, the infiltrator was drenched in sweat and did not even dare breathe. He sat in the shadows behind a round barrel. If Jinbe took another two steps forward, he would spot him. Even the hand holding his blade had begun to tremble.
"Hmm? What's this?" Jinbe suddenly spoke, and the infiltrator heard something being moved.
The infiltrator was scared out of his wits, crying out inwardly that this was bad—he had been discovered. At that moment, he sprang to his feet, gripped his blade with both hands, raised it high, and slashed toward where Jinbe had spoken from.
Whoosh! The blade whistled through the air, but the infiltrator missed. Jinbe had actually turned around, his back facing him as he pried at a wooden plank. Because of that turn, the slash fell just short and failed to hit Jinbe.
A cold gust swept past. The infiltrator stared, embarrassed and furious, at Jinbe's rear sticking up in front of him, while an inexplicable sense of shame surged through his heart.
As an elite assassin, he had actually failed in a sneak attack while his target's back was turned?
He was enraged. He could not tolerate such a humiliating accident. He swiftly raised the blade in both hands again, preparing to follow up with a fatal strike.
Crack! Just then, Jinbe suddenly rose and leaned backward as though he had lost his balance. The plank