Chapter 92: The High Wall of Nen x Rat or Jerry?
The world doesn't belong to a class society, yet class has always existed. It uses various privileges to divide people into different tiers. In the Hunter world, the Hunter Exam is a prime example. Anyone who passes the exam and obtains a Hunter License gains access to:
90% of countries that normally forbid entry.
75% of restricted areas.
High-value loans using the license as collateral.
Free use of 95% of public facilities worldwide, for life.
The ability to sell the license. The proceeds can support seven generations of descendants in comfort.
Therefore, to obtain these privileges, the candidates gathering for the Hunter Exam each year are elites from across the continents. Some have even fought through brutal competitions, even deadly battles, in their own countries or tribes just to secure a precious spot. And now... to be blocked at the door and humiliated like this... even a clay doll has some fire!
The scene quieted. The waiting hall turned red, saturated with furious Aura. The man in bandages, the snake charmer, the muscle-bound giant, the bald ninja... every single Hunter Exam candidate glared daggers at Pariston.
The blonde boy, far from being intimidated, was ecstatic, his very soul trembling with excitement. 'Yes, just like this! These eyes that wish they could kill me... they're just too wonderful...' Pariston reveled in it, lost in the moment. He hugged himself blissfully, seemingly oblivious to the crowd surging towards him.
Soon, he was surrounded. The bare-chested muscleman reached out for him, his movement powerful and swift. "Kid, let gramps play with you. Donovan doesn't accept being called trash!"
"Donovan! It's Donovan the Strong!" Someone recognized the giant. "Donovan the Strong has won the World Powerlifting Cup sixteen times in a row! His bench press record is thirty-six tons!"
"With him here, uh..."
SMACK! A crisp sound echoed. Before Donovan's hand could even touch Pariston, the fat bodyguard beside him struck out. Donovan was instantly reduced to meat paste!
Hiss—! The acrid smell of blood filled the air. The gruesome remains lay splattered before them. Gasps echoed through the hall, quickly followed by terrified screams!
Chaos erupted. The surrounding crowd retreated in unison, as if rehearsed. Many clutched chairs, vomiting. Some collapsed, their legs giving out, fouling themselves. The pristine waiting hall instantly transformed into a purgatory of panic.
"Young Master, that fat one is likely an Enhancer." A slap enhanced by Nen was like a heavy hammer—anyone hit would die. It wasn't that Donovan was weak; it was simply that a Nen user fighting an ordinary person was a dimensional beatdown. Gotoh, using Gyo, saw it clearly. Roy showed no reaction, but he did cast a surprised glance at the Kurta girl sitting diagonally across from him. Her face had paled for only an instant before returning to normal. Her composure was unusually strong.
"Alright, I've said my piece. Who agrees, and who objects?" With Donovan as an example, Pariston smiled and surveyed the room. Before him stood countless potential little Donovans.
The crowd fell silent. Someone shouted, "Just change the ticket! Maybe we can still make it! No need to die fighting this psycho!"
A few people started to leave, then a small group, then a large crowd. After about five minutes, the vast waiting hall was nearly empty, leaving only a dozen or so people. Among them were the man in bandages, the snake charmer, the boy with the bow, the ninja, the Kurta girl, Gotoh, and... Roy!
Clap clap clap... Pariston applauded. "It seems you gentlemen are quite confident in your abilities."
"Good. Very good." The blonde boy's gaze swept over each of them, lingering on Roy for a moment. His smile widened. He pulled up a chair, sat down, and rested his chin on his hand. "As I said, I asked you all to do me a favor. Since you refused, then..." Pariston looked at them playfully. "Either I kill you all, or you all get killed by me. Your choice."
Ring ring ring... Ring ring ring...
"Attention passengers on Flight L8975. Boarding has now begun. Please proceed to Gate L6..."
Ring ring ring... The airport broadcast announced boarding for the flight to the Saherta Republic. The atmosphere plunged to freezing point.
The blonde boy watched them quietly. The snake charmer and the boy with the bow exchanged a look, snorted coldly, and turned to leave. Pride had kept them there, but Donovan's gruesome end could not be ignored. They had to admit they couldn't beat the fat bodyguard.
"Heh heh heh... A wise man knows when to yield. Safe travels, gentlemen, don't let me keep you." Pariston waved at their retreating backs, then turned his gaze to the man in bandages. The man tensed, quietly clenching his fists. Finally, after a wary glance at Pariston—instinct telling him this boy was likely even stronger than the bodyguard who had just struck—he too chose to turn and leave, opting for the next flight. Hopefully, he could still make it.
"Oh my, is everyone leaving?" The ninja rubbed his bald head, glanced at Roy and Gotoh, and sighed regretfully. "I thought it was three against four, advantage us. But now that one's gone... a ninja doesn't stand beneath a crumbling wall. I'm out." With that, his figure flickered, and he followed the man in bandages out of the waiting hall to change his ticket.
Soon, only Roy, Gotoh, and the Kurta girl remained.
The girl pushed up her glasses, closed her travel journal, stood up without a word, and walked towards the gate. As she passed Roy, she gave him a polite nod.
Roy returned the smile.
Across the rows of seats, only he and Gotoh were left. One sat cross-legged, the other stood with hands in pockets. From start to finish, they had sat quietly, showing no intention of leaving.
Whoosh. A cold draft blew in through the glass windows.
Pariston whistled, looking over with a beaming smile, as if he had expected this outcome all along. He spread his arms wide in praise. "The world's number one family of assassins certainly has presence." He had exposed Roy's identity with a single sentence. Behind him, the fat and thin bodyguards both looked over, their expressions filled with surprise and uncertainty.
"Hey hey hey, playing is playing, messing around is messing around, little Hill. Protecting you is one thing, but asking me to kill a Zoldyck? Count me out!" the fat bodyguard said, stuffing his hands definitively into his pockets. Beside him, the thin bodyguard shot him a glare, frowned deeply, but also remained silent.
Pariston shrugged. "See? Even my own men are too scared to make a peep. Roy Zoldyck, how about..."
"We play a game? If you lose, the exit is just to the left. If you win... I'll bow and see you off, without another word. How about it?"
"Young Master..." Gotoh looked at Roy.
The boy closed his notebook, clasped his hands under his chin, and smiled back at Pariston. "I think killing you would be better."
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