The corridor fight footage began playing on the TV. And after Ronin adjusted the audio repeatedly, the voices recorded by the bug finally came through clearly—Shalnark's and Nobunaga's in full.
Ronin lightly tapped his fingers on the table.
Ninjutsu had performed exceptionally well in actual combat. Even C-rank jutsu—used properly—could produce results far beyond what Big Bang Impact could achieve in his hands.
The key lay in energy output.
The amount of "visible aura" you could burst out limited how destructive a punch could be.
But some ninjutsu weren't constrained the same way by how much chakra you poured out.
In a straight fistfight, Ronin would lose.
But if he unleashed ninjutsu against Uvogin's Big Bang Impact, he had the ability to leave wounds on him!
This round of probing made Ronin's tactical plan for the upcoming ring match much clearer.
Still, listening to the bugged audio, Ronin also found himself thinking.
If the Phantom Troupe really brought five people… then the best choice for the next fight would actually be to forfeit.
Otherwise, even with his abilities, if he got blocked in, he could still end up dead inside the arena.
And from what Shalnark was saying, they had no intention of sparing the spectators who entered the arena that day either.
Truly lawless monsters.
Ronin idly played with a black card in his hand. It held his recent earnings—4.6 billion jenny.
Not an astronomical amount, but enough for him to set his next plan in motion.
Five Phantom Troupe members—or more?
A sharp light flashed in Ronin's eyes.
He wasn't planning to run.
He only hoped everything he'd arranged would go smoothly.
Room 2333 had been sealed off. Ronin's new room was 2412.
On the wall display, the match information appeared:
"Match Date Confirmed
Arena, Floor 227
May 12th, 3:00 PM!"
The fight listed was Ronin vs. Uvogin.
And as soon as that was confirmed, the arena's ad slots and promotional panels began updating.
"'Genius Youth,' 'Favored by the God of Combat,' 'Dazzling Supernova' Ronin will face 'Blood-Drinking Barbarian,' 'Iron-Armed Gorilla' Uvogin on May 12th!
Join us at 3:00 PM on May 12th—live at Arena Floor 227!"
Bang.
A pebble shot out and shattered the TV in the 201st-floor restaurant.
A waiter panicked and rushed over to check, while more people hid smirks and glanced toward a tall man in a bearskin vest, chest exposed.
Because that man was the "Iron-Armed Gorilla" Uvogin from the broadcast.
"He paid for it," Shalnark said, giving only that explanation. "And he paid a lot—for promotion."
"Who?" Uvogin growled. "I'll kill them."
He could feel people's eyes on him, but he couldn't just start slaughtering everyone here.
Because he truly intended to fight.
If he went on a killing spree in the restaurant, he'd be expelled from Heavens Arena.
"Milia. A gold-level agent." Shalnark didn't forget to investigate the people around Ronin. "But she seems to be guarding against us. I can't find any recent info on her online. I asked a few info brokers on the floors too—no one would talk. Looks like she has serious pull inside Heavens Arena."
"Gold-level agent…" Uvogin recalled a suit-wearing guy.
Back when he qualified for the 200th floor, a slick professional had approached him too—offering to build his image, hype him up, and earn him more attention, money, and fame.
Uvogin didn't care, so he'd chased the guy off.
"Fine. I'll swallow it." Uvogin forced down a huge glass of water, as if trying to drown the fire in his chest.
In a corner they didn't notice, Kurapika had already changed out of his distinctive ethnic clothing.
Now he wore casual black clothes, a baseball cap pulled low, and black-rimmed glasses. He looked mild and scholarly.
He ate slowly and neatly, but his eyes were fixed on Uvogin's group.
He suspected who they were. He couldn't be 100% certain, but the probability that they were Troupe members was extremely high.
Because the incident on the 200th floor hadn't been kept quiet.
Ronin's name was at its peak in the arena—he was even trending toward the level of the Floor Masters.
So anything involving Ronin spread fast. Whether the information was true depended on the listener's judgment.
What Kurapika had heard was that Ronin had crushed Uvogin's momentum on the 200th floor—just a single exchange had made Uvogin cough blood and get injured.
And because of that clash, Uvogin was furious and recklessly declared a match with Ronin.
In the rumor as Kurapika received it, Uvogin was portrayed as a brainless brute.
It did fit the "Iron-Armed Gorilla" title—but Kurapika didn't believe things were that simple.
Thinking of the attack on Room 2333 days earlier—and the report that the door panel of Room 2333 had been slashed—Kurapika felt confident the one who attacked that room was the dead-fish-eyed swordsman beside Uvogin, the one whose katana never drifted farther than arm's reach even when he sat.
And who would want Ronin dead most right now?
The answer was obvious:
The Phantom Troupe.
But the more certain Kurapika became, the less he dared get close.
Hatred simmered inside him, yet even sitting here he could sense how terrifying those three were.
They weren't even on the same plane of strength.
Kurapika knew that if he let killing intent leak out, he might be dead before he could even reach within five meters of their table.
Cold sweat beaded on Kurapika's forehead.
So nii-san Ronin was going to face monsters like this?
Kurapika swallowed hard. Only when Uvogin's trio finally left the restaurant did the taut string in his chest loosen.
And right then, someone sat down across from him.
"So? Can you feel the gap?"
That familiar voice made Kurapika jerk his head up—and his eyes instantly shifted into Scarlet Eyes.
"nii-san Ronin!" Kurapika's voice trembled with emotion.
"Shh." Ronin signaled him to lower his voice. Thankfully, Kurapika's outburst didn't attract attention.
Maybe it was because the oppressive atmosphere caused by Uvogin's table had already driven many diners to pay and leave, so there weren't many customers nearby.
Still, seeing Kurapika's bright red eyes, Ronin stood and guided him toward a private room. "Come with me first."
Kurapika lowered the brim of his cap and hurried after Ronin.
But his expression was already twisted, and tears poured from his eyes in large drops.
Ronin noticed the small motions—Kurapika was trying hard to hold it in, but the sound of sniffing still escaped.
Ronin sighed softly, slowed his pace, and reached out to take Kurapika's hand.
Kurapika was only thirteen, and he'd grown up almost entirely inside the clan lands. He'd only recently begun to experience the outside world. Even if the tragedy had forced some of the childishness out of him—
Facing the last remaining "family" he had, he still revealed his most fragile, most real side.
~~~
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