Chapter 170: Domination
"My apologies, was I not clear before? Please wait your turn. The passage hasn't been cleared yet."
The gaunt man who had initially blocked Ronin and Vanessa spoke up. He had watched Ronin's attempt to dive underground and let out a derisive snort when Ronin resurfaced looking annoyed.
So what if the kid was a Nen user?
The gaunt man could tell the duo was looking for trouble, but he wasn't worried. You didn't stand guard at a bottleneck like this without having the teeth to back it up.
Ronin, however, wasn't in the mood for a debate.
The man was a Nen user, and he had just laughed at him. In Ronin's book, that was a signed death warrant.
He took a single step forward. His fist slammed into the man's solar plexus.
Ronin's movement wasn't "fast" in the supernatural sense—he didn't use the Lightning Mode—but even so, the man couldn't react. He doubled over like a boiled shrimp, gasping for air in a state of pathetic, wheezing agony.
"You're moving too slow. I'm going in now," Ronin said. His voice was flat, but it made the entire blockade zone fall into a chilling silence.
Someone began to clap. A second man stepped out from behind the pile of rubble—the gaunt man's partner.
"And how should I address our friend here?" the newcomer asked. Unlike his partner, he was built with balanced, compact muscles. He was short, barely reaching 1.6 meters, but he moved with a calm confidence.
He directed his question at Ronin, but his eyes were fixed on Vanessa. More specifically, they were locked onto the Rock Mercenaries insignia on her shoulder. His expression grew noticeably more serious.
Seeing that Ronin and Vanessa had no intention of introducing themselves, the man didn't look embarrassed. He simply continued, "If you're here to help clear the rubble, you're more than welcome. But if you're here to cause a scene, I, Brennan, don't fear anyone."
He flared his aura, his Ren surging as he prepared to meet Ronin's challenge.
The display only made Ronin's blood boil with excitement.
He loved fighting capable opponents. It was the only way to sharpen his Hatsu and find the joy in this new life.
To Ronin, Brennan's stance meant only one thing: "Beat me, and you can pass. Fail, and stay back with the rest of the trash."
Ronin blurred. He appeared in front of Brennan instantly, his fist driving toward the man's stomach.
It was the same move he'd used on the first guy. If Brennan was sent flying, he was a waste of time. If he blocked it, Ronin would have a benchmark for his strength.
Unfortunately, Brennan couldn't handle it.
A single, unadorned punch sent the man spiraling backward through the air.
When he hit the ground, a trail of blood leaked from the corner of Brennan's mouth. Ronin didn't wait for him to get up; he gestured for Vanessa to follow and kept walking.
By defeating two enforcers back-to-back, Ronin had established an aura of absolute dominance. Every time they took a step forward, the "guards" at the blockade took a step back.
Soon, the guards ran out of room.
"Let them through," Brennan wheezed, picking himself up from the dirt. He looked humiliated, his earlier bravado replaced by a look of suppressed, venomous spite.
Ronin let out a short, mocking laugh—not at Brennan, but at the gaunt man who was still twitching on the floor.
Brennan allowed them to pass but trailed closely behind them. He wanted to see what they would do.
There were only two of them. Even if they reached the "wall," the tunnel was still blocked. They had two choices: cooperate with his team to dig, or try to clear it themselves.
Brennan was betting on the latter. He didn't care if the woman was a Rock Mercenary. One lone scout didn't represent the whole unit. If they wanted to do the manual labor of clearing the tunnel for him, he'd gladly watch. He didn't believe two people could hold the entrance once the path was open.
Ronin, of course, knew exactly what Brennan was thinking.
He didn't care. He wasn't about to do the heavy lifting for a group of scavengers. If he cleared the path, he would be using Earth Style, ensuring he entered the inner sanctum while the wall remained solid for those behind him.
They walked a short distance further until the sound of picks and shovels reached them.
Brennan's team was hard at work, hauling buckets of stone out of the tunnel.
"Cooperation is the only way to explore these depths efficiently," Brennan's voice drifted from behind them. "Given your strength, I'm willing to renegotiate the terms of our partnership."
Brennan was convinced he had figured out Ronin's "play."
He's showing off to gain leverage in the loot-split negotiations, Brennan thought. He's strong—maybe strong enough that even my whole squad couldn't take him in a fair fight.
But so what?
There were a thousand ways to kill a man. Frontal combat was for amateurs. Poison, assassination, curses—those were the tools of a professional.
Ronin didn't answer. He could sense the malice radiating from the man behind him. Underneath the "offer of partnership" was a jagged edge of killing intent.
This guy really doesn't value his life, Ronin thought.
He stopped at the face of the collapse.
The workers here were ordinary humans. Only their overseer, a man standing nearby, was shrouded in a steady Ten.
The overseer made eye contact with Brennan the moment he arrived. A silent communication passed between them.
Ronin turned to Vanessa. "If I kill someone here, will it compromise the Mercenaries' standing with the Kingdom?"
Vanessa understood the subtext immediately. She shook her head. "No. The Kingdom only cares about the results. Dead freelancers are just fewer mouths to pay."
The moment she finished speaking, Ronin turned around and locked eyes with Brennan.
Brennan's body stiffened. His pupils dilated, and his gaze went blank.
Genjutsu.
Ronin flicked his wrist. A kunai appeared in his hand and vanished into a blur.
Vanessa watched in shock as the blade buried itself in Brennan's throat. The man didn't even twitch; he stood there like a statue as the life left his body.
The sudden execution made the overseer freeze. He scrambled backward, his Ten flaring into a panicked, defensive Ren.
He couldn't understand it. Why hadn't Brennan dodged? The throw hadn't even been that fast. Brennan was a veteran; he should have sidestepped that easily.
But Brennan had been dead the moment he looked at Ronin.
Ronin spared the overseer a single, disinterested glance. He had no intention of a massacre. He had simply set a bloody example.
Kill the chicken to scare the monkeys.
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