The pseudonym was just for fun. It wasn't like he could actually become the immortal Zhenyuan from Journey to the West.
Liam couldn't help but laugh. Then he said cheerfully to Shizuku, "Anyway, the Star Mark should be harmless to your body. That's good. And judging by the ability, your big brother here seems to have some serious potential!"
"Yeah," Shizuku nodded.
"Okay, let's keep training! Go, go, go!" Liam returned to his original position and stood firm, aura solid as rock around his body. "The goal is 10,000 total aura! Progress has been a bit slow lately, but it shouldn't be a big problem."
"Good luck," Shizuku said, holding Blinky beside her. When Liam finished, it would be her turn.
It was almost dusk. Fountain Square, which had been chaotic all afternoon, had finally recovered.
The tracksuit-masked man holding the megaphone and shouting loudly had been lectured by police and calmed down. But he still stayed by the fountain, refusing to leave. He ignored the passersby pointing and whispering and chuckling at him. He was wearing a mask anyway.
Suddenly, a figure walked up to him and asked calmly, "Do you really have information about the Phantom Troupe?"
The voice was clear and composed, but barely suppressing underlying emotion.
The masked man raised his head and saw the newcomer clearly. Blond, semi-long hair, messy. If his face wasn't so striking—almost like a beautiful celebrity's—the casual hairstyle could definitely be described as unkempt.
Kurapika stared at the masked man who'd made such a scene this afternoon.
When the masked man saw him, he pulled a note from his tracksuit pocket and handed it over.
Kurapika opened it and read: "Tomorrow morning, there will be a match on the 80th floor of Heavens Arena. I think I can really help you solve your problems. —John Smith"
At the end, a PS note added: "If you're late, head to the higher floors to find me. Put your heart into it. Haha."
This joking attitude made Kurapika frown.
When he looked up, the masked man had disappeared. He didn't know when he'd left.
"Who is this? Heavens Arena, John Smith..."
Kurapika gradually tightened his grip on the note.
"Phantom Troupe..."
Rage boiled in Kurapika's heart. His eyes turned the color of flames.
These were the Scarlet Eyes of the Kurta Clan, known as one of the Seven Beauties of the world. It was because of these eyes that the entire Kurta Clan had been brutally slaughtered by the Phantom Troupe. The entire tribe massacred.
Although there was a possibility of being played, as long as it was information related to the Phantom Troupe, he couldn't afford to miss it.
Kurapika turned and left.
Five people in tracksuit masks scattered in different locations did the same thing at the same moment.
They pulled out thin needles and pricked the rose-gold pentagram marks on their bodies lightly. On elbows, on the backs of necks, on collarbones. All at once, the skin where the rose-gold Star Mark was located was punctured. The integrity of the mark destroyed instantly. The star dispersed like smoke and vanished. A bead of blood appeared on the skin under each needle tip.
"Hiss, that hurts!"
"What's wrong with me?"
"Why am I here? What's with this mask?"
"Oh my god, where am I? Why am I wearing this outfit?"
Five people in different places, freed from the Star Mark's control, were similarly confused. When they left and returned to normal life, they might regard this incident as a weird experience. Or they might hear about the strange masked men in tracksuits from other people's conversations and remember it. But they didn't know Nen, so they'd probably forget this bizarre thing soon.
Liam stopped paying attention after the Star Marks were lifted.
The next day. Heavens Arena.
Kurapika took the elevator to the 80th floor and asked if there was a match with a contestant named John Smith on this level.
The female staff member couldn't help but smile. "Contestant Smith is really popular. You're already the third person to ask about him today. Mr. Kurapika, are you sure you're not going to continue competing?"
"Sorry," Kurapika said. "I want to know when John Smith's match starts."
"He came to register this morning. There should be a match soon..." The female staff member was talking when a voice came from the broadcast overhead, announcing: "Contestant 988, Contestant 430, please proceed to Ring C on the 81st floor." She smiled and pointed at the speaker.
"Thank you." Kurapika nodded and left.
The 10th floor was the first tier. This was the 80th floor. Matches for players at this tier were held on floors 80 through 89. Kurapika knew this rule well. He quickly took the elevator to the 81st floor and found the passage leading to Ring C.
As soon as he walked out of the passage, familiar audience shouts hit him. The unique heat wave of the brutal arena washed over his face.
Kurapika stood on the high platform near the exit, looking quietly toward the ring in the center. Surrounded by spectators on all sides. A middle-aged martial artist with black braided hair stood on the stage. His muscular body was covered with crisscrossing scars. Obviously experienced in countless battles. Opposite him, a young man who seemed about Kurapika's own age stepped onto the ring.
Kurapika's attention focused on the middle-aged martial artist. Calm demeanor. Qualified stance. Indeed an experienced fighter. But why did his expression look somewhat tense?
"Everyone, thank you for waiting! The next match is a wonderful showdown between young contestant John Smith and veteran martial artist Tetsuo!"
The referee's passionate voice echoed throughout the venue through the loudspeaker. "Fighter Tetsuo is famous for his rich and varied techniques, while Smith has a unique style. He almost never fails to defeat his opponents, advancing steadily all the way here. Between these two, who will be the final victor? Audience members, are you ready to place your bets? Please press your buttons now..."
Kurapika didn't listen carefully to what the referee said after that. He frowned, looking at the boy about his own age on the ring.
Is he the so-called John Smith?
Does he know about the Phantom Troupe?
"I'm really... wasting my time..." As Kurapika muttered to himself, the match in the ring had already begun.
Worthy of being called a martial artist with rich and varied techniques by the referee, Tetsuo's skills were extraordinary from the first strike. Tight fists. Smooth flowing moves. Leaving no room for his opponent to breathe.
"Contestant Smith is at a disadvantage! But he's parrying all of Tetsuo's attacks! It's difficult to score points with this defensive style. Tetsuo needs to apply more pressure! Ah, Smith's movements have changed. Has he started to keep up with his opponent's moves? It appears! This is Smith's unique fighting style. Has he begun his counterattack?"
While the referee explained the match rapidly, someone next to Kurapika suddenly said in disappointment, "What's he doing? With his strength, he could obviously knock his opponent away with one move, right?"
Kurapika turned and saw the speaker was another boy.
On the other side of the boy stood another person. A young man with black hair and glasses. Judging by the way his shirt hem had slipped out of his trousers, he seemed very slovenly.
The white-haired boy who'd spoken looked younger than Kurapika and Smith. Probably only about eight years old.
"But this guy's technique is so bad," Killua chuckled, muttering to his pocket. "Want me to teach you how to fight? Just a cup of chocolate ice cream won't be enough to buy me..." At least a hundred cups.
"He hasn't even exerted one ten-thousandth of his strength." Next to Killua, the young man with messy glasses suddenly spoke.
"I wasn't talking to you, was I? Why did you suddenly jump into the conversation..." Killua thought, but said, "One ten-thousandth? Isn't that too exaggerated? He's powerful, I know that. But his technique is terrible."
Wing smiled slightly, not explaining further. "Are his techniques bad? I was paying attention to him when he was on the 10th floor. Back then, his moves were truly hard to watch. He had zero combat experience. But now look... he's rapidly learning his opponent's movements and absorbing his opponent's fighting experience."
Kurapika and Killua couldn't help but look toward the ring.
"Oh! What's happening? Contestant Smith's movements are getting faster and faster, as if the video suddenly doubled in speed! Is he finally getting serious? Taking out his real strength! Excellent strike! 1 point for Smith! A critical hit! 2 more points for Smith!..."
As the referee explained passionately, Killua had to admit that although Smith's fighting style was weird, it was indeed "optimizing" at a speed visible to the naked eye. His movements had been a little slow and stiff at first. Now they were becoming more and more fluid, as if he didn't need to think about countermeasures. Just swung fists and kicked naturally. Even more interesting, his movements were obviously very similar to his martial artist opponent's.
Wing said, "As far as I know, Smith could have jumped directly to the 50th floor from the 1st floor, but he chose to start from the 10th. Winning one match and only going up to the 20th, then 30th. Moreover, he only fights two matches every morning. Wins two matches, then doesn't compete the rest of the time."
"I think he's using that time to digest the fighting skills and experience he learned in the ring." Wing said, moved by his own words. He smiled to himself. "The amazing speed of progress. And more importantly, this determination to take it one step at a time. The person we see now is really completely different from when he first appeared on stage a few days ago."
"How troublesome. He could seize an opportunity and punch his opponent away in one shot." Killua snorted, turned toward his pocket, and left. "It's boring."
"He only used one ten-thousandth of his strength? How is that possible..."
Killua frowned, thinking rather unhappily, "Did he hold back when he arm-wrestled with me yesterday?"
Before three minutes ended, Liam had already scored 12 points. Won by technical knockout. Defeated his opponent by TKO.
"Is that the end already?"
Liam withdrew his hand, seemingly unsatisfied. The Star Mark on the back of his neck fell silent, releasing the "Flowing Star Strike" mode.
His opponent gasped and reluctantly got up from the sidelines. He said to Liam unwillingly, "If you go to a higher level, you'll definitely pay the price for your arrogance!"
Liam said, "Thanks, I'll keep that in mind."
What are you thanking me for? Am I giving you friendly advice? The martial artist Tetsuo almost wanted to vomit blood. This match was so frustrating. He'd watched helplessly as his opponent showed a careless attitude and seemed to steal all his moves right in front of him! Was this even human?
The referee said to Liam, "Contestant Smith, I think you could go to the 100th floor, but according to your usual practice, do you want to go to the 90th floor first?"
"Yes." Liam smiled and took the slip leading to the upper-level competition. "Take it slow. That's faster in the end."
The referee praised him. "That's very philosophical. I wish you luck in your matches."
Liam waved and jumped off the ring.
"Did you notice?" Wing said from high in the auditorium, near the passage entrance. "I won't even say he wasn't injured."
"Not even a drop of sweat," Kurapika finished. Then he headed straight toward Smith.
I hope you really have genuine information.