Chapter 862
As Pakunoda's voice fell, the room fell into silence.
After a long pause, Chrollo raised his head. "Then let's vote. Those in favor of the trade, stand to the left. Those against, stand to the right. Majority rules."
Feitan and Phinks stepped to the right. Pakunoda walked to the left, followed by Hooker. Kurapika also stood on the left.
Feitan and Phinks turned to look at the remaining two—Franklin and Nobunaga.
Nobunaga hesitated for a moment, then stepped to Hooker's side.
At that point, the vote didn't need to continue. Chrollo's stance was already clear—he intended to proceed with the trade.
"It seems the result's settled. Tomorrow, I'll meet with Machi's group for the exchange. But Feitan, Phinks—if you two don't want to participate in the sparring sessions, I won't force it. The rest of us should be enough…"
Feitan interrupted. "Boss, since it's been decided, don't say that. We're the Phantom Troupe—we act as one. If this was a group decision, then I'll take responsibility too. Otherwise, what kind of Troupe are we?"
The slightly tense atmosphere eased after that.
The next day, Machi arrived with the other two.
Chrollo stood. "Machi, we've discussed it and agreed to the trade. But I need to know—when can you share your information about the Dark Continent?"
"I can give you something right now," Machi replied. "The section of the Dark Continent we're heading to this time is different from the five calamities your group previously gathered information on. It's another region entirely. So, new preparations are needed."
She didn't continue. Instead, she asked, "When can we start the sparring?"
"Right now," Chrollo said.
"Alright, let's find a place."
The Phantom Troupe was currently on Tier 5, which was mainly controlled by the Cha‑R family. The head of the Cha‑R family was a second-tier prince—Nasubi's half-brother—one generation older than Morena. But to simply find a training ground, there was no need to deal with the Cha‑R directly. Tier 5 was vast, and it wasn't uncommon for people to clear out a section and claim it. After the Black Whale departed from the human world, this place was no longer governed by human law.
With the Troupe's full group plus Machi's three, just standing there exerted overwhelming pressure.
"Here's good," Phinks said. "I scouted this area earlier—was thinking of taking it over as our base. Using it as a training ground works just as well."
Chrollo nodded.
Feitan stepped forward, facing the scattered people around them.
"You have thirty seconds. Clear out."
The tone immediately sparked anger. One bald man, likely already in a bad mood, was provoked further. He marched up to Feitan.
"Telling us to clear out? Who the hell do you think you are? You get lost!"
He reached for Feitan—
Slish!
A faint blade of aura—seen only by trained Nen users—flashed by.
In the next second, the bald man's arm hit the floor.
Blood sprayed.
An agonizing wave of pain surged up. Only then did the man realize what had happened. Eyes wide in horror, he clutched his severed arm, but the wound was too large, and the bleeding couldn't be stopped.
Feitan raised one leg and kicked forward.
Bang!
The bald man was launched backward.
Panic broke out. Everyone scattered. A few of the man's friends grabbed him and fled.
Soon, the place was cleared.
It was a large space—probably a sports arena based on the Black Whale's internal structure, though it lacked equipment. Maybe it hadn't been installed yet, or perhaps someone pocketed the budget.
A vast, empty space.
"Machi, how do you want to do this sparring?" Phinks asked.
Machi looked toward Ponzu, then Misty. "I'll go first. Phinks, want to have some fun?"
Phinks raised an eyebrow. "Me? You sure, Machi? Not gonna start with someone weaker—like Nobunaga?"
Nobunaga's face darkened. "Phinks, what did you just say?"
Phinks grinned. "Just stating facts. What, you got a problem?"
Machi cut in. "If there's no issue, let's begin."
Phinks's expression turned serious. "Machi, you know my strength. With your current ability, you can't beat me. And I don't really hold back."
"No problem. We fight until one side calls it."
Machi's face didn't change.
"Fine."
Misty raised her hand and brought it down sharply. "Begin!"
The moment Misty spoke, Phinks charged toward Machi.
Machi lifted both hands. Ten fingers extended Nen threads—each with a different function.
Two threads stretched in a cross, linking the floor to the ceiling, positioned directly in front of her.
Phinks's fist came roaring forward. Just before it struck the threads, a chill ran down his spine. No—it wasn't just a feeling. He had already touched the threads when the danger registered.
He pulled back his punch.
Looking down, his pupils narrowed.
A red line had appeared on his fist.
"These threads… they're different from before. Sharper—like blades. Sharp enough to bypass my defenses."
Phinks looked at Machi. "Looks like you've been training hard since leaving the Troupe. You've made serious progress. No wonder you dared to challenge me first. Interesting."
"But the one who's going to win… is still me."
He gathered more aura into his hand, then reached toward the cross of Nen threads and yanked.
Snap!
The threads didn't break—instead, the points where they connected to the floor and ceiling tore free.
But as he pulled those two threads loose, two others had already coiled tightly around both his legs—wrapping layer after layer, like serpents.