Chapter 105: What the Eyes See Isn't Always Real
"We're leaving."
Yamucha said to the two Dark WarGreymon's standing beside him and Kastro.
He had little interest in the battle between Vampire Nightowl and the Phantom Troupe—he actually hoped Nightowl would kill several Troupe members to deepen the conflict between them and the criminal syndicate, causing greater fallout. A one-sided fight wasn't very entertaining.
The ideal outcome was for the Troupe to be severely weakened and the syndicate to suffer heavy casualties, paving the way for the Mojito family to rise to power.
That, aside from "taking" Nightowl's Nen ability, was his main objective.
After all, neither the Phantom Troupe nor the Shadow Beasts were exactly saints in the eyes of ordinary people.
As for the Stone Demon Mask—once Nightowl had used it, it returned to Yamucha's hand. That had been the terms of their deal: it was to be given to Nightowl for only a single use.
Essentially, it was a no-risk transaction.
Even if Nightowl survived, it wouldn't matter much. He was only a vampire, and with a crippling weakness to sunlight, he posed no real threat to the Hunter world.
Far more dangerous were the thousand-strong Ant King's forces.
The Hunter world's depths ran far deeper than mere surface power levels. Otherwise, Yamucha wouldn't be so cautious.
Night of September 2
Of the Phantom Troupe's thirteen members, two are confirmed dead: Uvogin and the Knight.
The Yookshin City syndicate suffered countless casualties among its foot soldiers; of the Ten Elders' elite Shadow Beast squadron, nine died and one's fate remains unknown.
When the news broke, both the Phantom Troupe and the syndicate were furious. The Ten Elders even sweetened the deal with a bounty, recruiting top fighters from around the world to wipe out the Troupe.
"My lord, what shall we do?" Kairar respectfully inquired.
Yamucha waved a hand. "Send out a few of our newly recruited rabble for show. We'll wait until the time is right."
As the feud between the syndicate and the Troupe intensifies, the Ten Elders' countdown to death begins.
The syndicate won't call off the auction over this lone attack—they'd lose all face, signaling weakness. Underground power relies heavily on appearances; once they show frailty, they can't suppress the discontent of their own ranks.
So the auction presses on, and the Troupe continues its covert operations. It's a game of chess.
Night of September 3
Tonight's auction went smoothly. The Yookshin City syndicate brought stunning news: every member of the Phantom Troupe has been killed.
The corpses were authenticated by experts—no doubt, from facial features to clothing, they were genuine.
The syndicate rewarded the informants handsomely.
With the "robbery" resolved and Shadow Beast casualties mitigated, the syndicate's reputation was restored.
Everything seemed to be moving in the right direction.
"Teacher, is it true? Hisoka and the others are really dead?" Kastro found the news hard to believe. How could someone like Hisoka die so easily at the hands of ordinary humans—even if they had weapons?
It felt as incongruous as an ant chewing through an elephant.
Yamucha tapped the table lightly. "I'm giving you Lesson Two: what you see isn't always real—unless you verify it yourself."
Enhancers are famous for being straightforward and thinking little. In battle, you must use your head.
"Judging by the bodies, yes, they're Troupe members." He leaned in. "But what about their power? Ordinary people don't understand Nen users—you don't either. Don't be fooled by appearances."
"This is a game of wits."
"If the Ten Elders believe this, death awaits them."
Yamucha glanced at the report Kairar brought: the Ten Elders had agreed to a ceasefire with Meteor Street and halted hostilities. He sneered.
"They actually believed Meteor Street. The Ten Elders are rotten to the core. If they're that decayed, they deserve to be swept away by time."
Meteor Street?
The world's garbage dump—nothing there but lies and deception. Kindness and honesty are the deadliest poisons.
"What fools, to not trust my words."
Nightowl, furious after reporting to his direct superior, slammed his fist into the wall. The reinforced concrete shattered like tofu before his strike.
Nightowl had truly earned his name—calling him the King of Darkness wouldn't be an exaggeration. After drinking the blood of a powerful foe (the Knight), his strength had surged, and his personality shifted greatly.
"I've seen those monsters' power firsthand," he muttered, "and paid dearly to kill one of them."
"These idiots think ordinary guns can kill Nen users. Bullets can't even tickle them."
"Our mission failed because you all misjudged the enemy's strength."
Nightowl's eyes glowed blood-red. In his second confrontation with the Troupe, he'd killed the Knight with a sneak attack—but he nearly ended up roasted by the dwarf's Nen ability.
Knowing he couldn't face the Troupe alone, he hid himself and searched for allies. Support from the Ten Elders seemed impossible; he'd have to find another way.
Spotting a flash of gold in the crowd, Nightowl leapt into the air in a dramatic arc and landed before Kurapika.
With Kurapika's wary gaze on him, Nightowl blurted out his intention: "You're the big guy who killed one of the Phantom Troupe's members with chains, right?"
"The Phantom Troupe didn't die!"
"You killed one of them—they'll come after you."
"We share a common enemy and goal. I think we can cooperate."
Kurapika froze at the sudden claim.
Beep!
At that same moment, Kurapika's phone buzzed with a message from Hisoka:
"The bodies were fakes!"
Kurapika's pupils constricted. Even if this stranger's words were dubious, the sender wouldn't joke about this.
The Phantom Troupe was alive!
In under three seconds, Kurapika pieced it together. He replied resolutely, "I agree!"
—End of Chapter—