Regret was regret, but Oyashiro En, who had spent many years struggling in the underground world, knew very well that regret was the most useless emotion of all.
Although things had developed to this point and he appeared to have fallen into a disadvantageous position.
Before the game ended, however, it was still too early to say who would win and who would lose.
He spread his hands and smiled as well. "Could it be that you think you've already secured victory?"
He looked completely relaxed, but he had actually already prepared to resort to force.
Since the time-saving and effortless genjutsu had failed, he could only expose more of his methods.
If this Mihawk across from him truly thought he was the sort of person who only dared hide in the shadows and would die the moment he saw daylight, then he was celebrating far too soon.
No matter what, he was someone with the astonishing record of slaughtering the entire Chinoike Clan alone. At the very least, his strength began at jonin level.
Just as Oyashiro En's gaze swept across Araki's body, trying to find an opening to launch a sudden attack, Araki's hand, which rested lightly on the hilt of Samehada atop the coffee table, made a subtle movement.
"Mr. Oyashiro, don't be nervous. I actually bear you no ill will..."
As Araki spoke, he slowly released Samehada's hilt and gently placed his fingers downward on the glass surface of the coffee table, as though displaying his sincerity.
Still too naive...
The moment Oyashiro En saw Araki's movement, he sneered inwardly. The muscles he had deliberately relaxed instantly tensed, and he sprang up, his palm formed into a blade as his nails slashed toward Araki's arm.
The reason he had not directly targeted a vital point was