Hunter x Hunter: The Strongest Zoldyck

Chapter 127 Dark Night Light

Roy didn't stop.

The instant his fist missed, his left knee rose up, heading straight for Hisoka's abdomen—not a combo, but a change of attack.

The thought was withdrawn from the right fist and surged out from the left knee, all in the same instant.

Hisoka pulled his left hand out of his pocket and slowly placed it on Roy's knee.

There was no direct confrontation, no blocking; I simply pressed down and used the force to drift backward half a step.

The two of them distanced themselves again.

Roy stood slightly to the left of the ring, his right fist hanging at his side, his left knee slowly lowering, and the silvery-white aura around his body flickering, like a lamp about to go out.

Hisoka stood in the center of the ring, his left hand back in his pocket, his right hand hanging at his side, his golden eyes reflecting Roy's expressionless face.

"good."

Hisoka said, his voice trembling with barely suppressed excitement.

"You're three times stronger than when we last met... no, four times stronger..."

Roy did not reply.

He was adjusting his breathing, trying to reassemble the scattered ball of silvery-white light.

"But your recitation isn't fast enough."

Hisoka tilted his head: "If I had been half a beat faster than you did those two changes of direction, I probably wouldn't have been able to stop them."

Roy's pupils contracted slightly.

Hisoka smiled: "However... you're very good, so I'll give you a reward..."

"This time you hit me..."

""

"I won't dodge... Hit me with all your might... until you hit me."

Hisoka opened his arms wide, like a generous god willing to offer everything to the altar.

"Come!"

Roy took a deep breath, suppressing the burning, resentful feeling that surged up from his chest.

His right fist glowed with a silvery-white light again, brighter, more concentrated, and deeper than before.

This time, he didn't rush.

He left.

Step by step, at a moderate pace, like someone going to a rendezvous, walking on a road he has traveled many times before.

Hisoka neither retreated nor dodged.

He simply stood there, watching Roy approach step by step, the light in his golden eyes growing brighter and brighter, shining like two gems.

Roy stopped a step away from Hisoka.

I looked up and gazed into those golden eyes.

"This punch."

I will spare no effort.

Hisoka's lips curled into a smile: "I'll be waiting!"

laugh!

Roy's right fist shot out from his waist, piercing the air and striking Hisoka's chest. His fist had no curve, no change of direction, and no fancy techniques.

From his waist to Hisoka's chest, the distance is less than half a meter.

Hisoka did not dodge; he said he wouldn't dodge, and he really didn't.

Boom!

A silver-white fist struck Hisoka in the chest.

The sound wasn't the dull thud of a fist hitting flesh, but rather a deep, muffled sound, like a fist hitting an invisible wall.

A sound like striking rocks.

Splash! ...

Hisoka slid half a step back, his shoes leaving two shallow marks on the dark green cushioning pad.

He lowered his head and looked at the dissipating silver-white aura on his chest. Then he raised his head and looked at Roy's face, which was slightly pale from the full-force attack.

"Um?..

'

He nodded slightly: "It's a little lighter than I expected."

Roy's pupils contracted sharply.

Hisoka pulled his right hand out of his pocket, spread his fingers, and aimed it at Roy's chest: "You're done, now it's my turn."

Hisoka smiled slightly, and pale blue Nen threads extended from his fingertips, wrapping around Roy's right wrist like spider silk.

Not one, but five—five Nen threads, from five directions, firmly binding Roy's right hand to Hisoka's chest.

"Love that can stretch and contract."

Hisoka's voice was very soft, as soft as a lover's whisper: "I'm stuck with you."

His left hand was clenched into a fist, and the veins were bulging.

"bomb!"

As soon as he finished speaking, Roy's body was launched like a marble, flying into the air before crashing down.

boom! boom! boom!

Bang! Bang!

A dozen or so times in a row, Roy repeatedly slammed into the ring, bouncing up and falling down, in a never-ending cycle...

Until the very last time, he lay there like a lump of mud, motionless.

Upon seeing this, a collective gasp rippled through the stands.

Fika abruptly stood up from his seat, gripped the railing with both hands, and strained: "Boss..."

. ! ! ! "

Perhaps Roy still had strength, perhaps he had a special body, or perhaps he heard Fica's call...

Roy, who was lying on the edge of the ring, moved.

Instead of standing up, he used his hands to support himself on the ground and slowly moved his body away from the ropes.

His right arm was no longer under his control; his entire arm, from shoulder to wrist, was trembling like a wire that had been repeatedly bent.

The silvery-white light of his mind flickered on and off on his body, like a lamp about to go out.

He turned over, lying on his back, looking at the sky above the dome, which was divided into countless fragments by glass.

Sunlight streamed through the debris, falling on his face, his chest, and his right arm, which was trembling violently.

"It's not over yet," he said in a low voice, so soft that only he could hear it.

He used his left hand to support himself on the ground, slowly sat up, and then stood up.

The movements were very slow, as slow as a baby who has just learned to walk.

His knees were trembling, his waist was bent, and his back was hunched, but he stood up.

Hisoka stood in the center of the ring, hands in his pockets, his golden eyes looking at Roy, the smile on his lips even deeper than before.

"You can still stand up?" His voice trembled with barely suppressed, almost ecstatic joy.

"That's great...that's great...I knew you'd let me have my fun."

His right hand swayed slightly, his five fingers slightly spread.

The pale blue lines danced on my fingertips, like five snakes waiting for their prey.

"Again!"

Roy stood at the edge of the ring, head down, his silvery-white hair falling down from his forehead, covering most of his face.

His right arm was still hanging at his side, trembling incessantly, but his left hand slowly rose up, his five fingers clenched into a fist.

A silvery-white aura emerged from the palm of his left hand.

It's not bright...it's very dark.

It was as dark as a firefly in the dead of night.

But he is still working on it.

Hisoka's eyes lit up: "Left hand? Isn't your main offensive weapon your right hand?"

Roy did not answer.

He drew all the remaining spiritual energy from his right arm, leaving none, and poured it all into his left fist.

The light in his right arm completely went out, and the entire arm hung limply at his side like a lifeless branch.

The dim, silvery-white light on his left fist seemed to be infused with new fuel, gradually brightening, transforming from a firefly into a candle flame, and then from a candle flame into a torch.

This is not hard.

It was a final punch, more reckless than hardness, squeezing out the last bit of willpower from the body, a desperate gamble...

Hisoka looked at the left fist that was reigniting, and the smile on his lips finally stretched from the corners of his mouth to his ears.

"From left hand to right hand? No... you transferred all the thoughts from your right hand to your left hand."

,,