But the ways of the world were impossible to predict! Sometimes, the plot seemed unchanged, yet subtle shifts had already taken place. Just like now, when Moke drew near—Sarquis, Bellamy's first mate, keenly detected an unusual sound.
Relying on the experience and vigilance he had built up over the years, he almost instinctively turned his head and swept his gaze around. Then, his previously carefree expression abruptly turned serious, as though he had discovered something important.
Yet after only a brief moment, he casually turned back around and continued with what he had been doing.
But then, something unexpected happened: Sarquis suddenly whipped his head around again, and this time, his gaze locked firmly onto the two incomparably sharp blades clenched in Moke's hands... Without a doubt, he too was someone skilled at fighting with swords.
Although his usual weapon was not an ordinary straight longblade, but a curved sword with a distinctive shape similar to a Nepalese kukri, any swordsman would inevitably feel drawn to fine blades and renowned Meito.
That was why, with just one glance, Sarquis's eyes seemed to be drawn to the blades by a magnet, unable to move away from them.
With an arrogant look on his face, he shouted rudely at Moke, "Hey, brat! Take those crappy swords hanging from your belt out and let me have a look!"
Why had he fixed his gaze on him? Sarquis gave a slight nod and said affirmatively, "That's right, I'm talking about you... Hand that sword over obediently!"
Before he finished speaking, a sharp sound rang out—"Whoosh..."
Bellamy and his subordinates Rivas, Mure, Eddie, and the others all turned to look at them at once.
Mockery filled their eyes. Clearly, they had already seen through Sarquis's true intentions—he simply coveted the precious blades in someone else's