Hunter x Hunter: The Strongest Zoldyck

Chapter 129 Fierce Battle!

Iron-gray Nen surged from Roy's wound, like countless snakes whose chains had been broken, swirling, coiling, and compressing wildly across his body before finally settling down.

It's not extinguished, it's dormant...

Like a cheetah crouching low in the darkness, muscles taut to the limit, breathing at its lowest...

They were just waiting for the moment to strike.

His body rose from the shattered concrete platform, slowly emerging from the still-smoking rubble.

When he left the ground barefoot, a few tiny cement chips still clung to the soles of his feet. The iron-gray Nen energy spread upwards from his ankles, like vines, like blood vessels, like some kind of thread that was reweaving his body into another weapon.

Hisoka pulled his left hand out of his pocket.

It's not a slow, leisurely draw; it's a smooth, slippery motion.

Pink Nen seeped from his fingertips, not in an explosion, but in a weaving, like a spider spinning a web, like a tailor threading a needle, thread by thread, line by line, forming a dense, impenetrable net between his fingers.

He flipped his right hand, and a playing card slid out from his sleeve, nestled between his index and middle fingers.

It's not hearts, it's not clubs, it's the Ace of Spades.

The black heart on the card reflected the light slightly, like an eye watching its prey.

pat..

Roy's feet were back on the ground.

Iron-gray Nen energy had spread evenly across his body; it wasn't binding, it was armor.

Every inch of his skin was covered by that cold, metallic sheen, even his fingernails gleamed with an iron-gray sheen.

His right arm hung down at his side, his five fingers slightly curled and his fingertips pointing downwards. His right hand, which had been fractured, showed no signs of injury at this moment. Only a few dark red scabs remained on the skin of his knuckles, which were being covered by his spiritual energy.

Hisoka tilted his head, his red hair slipping off his shoulder.

The curve of his lips was still there, but his eyes no longer held curiosity... but assessment.

It's like standing on the edge of a cliff, measuring the distance from the top to the bottom of the valley—not feeling fear, not feeling excitement, just calculating.

Roy took the first step.

It's not the kind of footwork that gradually increases in speed; it's even.

Each step was the same distance, each step had the same rhythm, and each time the iron-gray Nen energy landed, a small, visible ring of energy would explode beneath the feet.

Like a calibrated precision instrument, like a train traveling along its tracks, not fast, but unstoppable.

Hisoka raised his right arm.

It wasn't a wave, it was a flick; with a quick flick of his wrist, the Ace of Spades flew from between his fingers, not in a straight line, but in an arc.

The playing card traced a curved path through the air, like smoke curled by the wind, heading straight for Roy's throat.

Not just one, but the first one had just slipped out of my hand when the second one slid out of my sleeve, following the trajectory of the first one, and then the third, the fourth, and the fifth.

It's not a continuous barrage, it's a weaving process.

The five playing cards each drew different arcs in the air, some circling from the left, some from the right, some falling from above, and some flying close to the ground, like five tamed eagles swooping down on the same prey from different directions.

The edges of the playing cards gleamed a cold white light under the lamp; they were sharpened by Nen, sharp enough to cut through steel.

Roy did not dodge.

It's not that I don't want to hide, it's that I don't need to.

His body began to twist just as the playing card was about to touch his skin, the movement subtle but perfectly timed.

The first playing card grazed past his left shoulder, the corner of the card brushing against his collar and cutting off a few strands of white hair.

The second card slid past his right side, its face brushing against his skin, leaving a faint scratch on his iron-gray aura.

The third card flew over his head. He tilted his head slightly, and the card flew past his earlobe. He could even feel the airflow from the spinning card gently tapping his eardrum.

The fourth and fifth cards arrived at the same time, one from his left waist and the other from his right knee. His body sank slightly, his left knee bent inward and his right leg turned outward. The two playing cards swept past his sides at the same time, crossing, colliding, and bouncing in his shadow, making a crisp, tinkling sound like shattering glass.

All five playing cards were dealt.

It wasn't luck, it was prediction. He saw the trajectory of every card, not with his eyes, but with his body. Those instincts, honed over twelve years in the Zoldyck family's training, were now like a supercomputer that had been restarted. Every piece of data could be processed in milliseconds, and every instruction could be transmitted to every part of his body in microseconds.

Hisoka's pupils contracted slightly.

His left hand rose from his side, and all five fingers moved simultaneously, like a pianist playing a very fast etude.

More playing cards flew out from his cuffs, collar, and waist—not five, but more than a dozen, densely packed, like a swarm of startled bats surging out of the darkness and rushing toward the iron-gray figure in the center of the ring.

The playing cards intertwined in the air to form an impenetrable net; some flew straight, some curved, some spun, and some tumbled. Each card had its own trajectory and its own goal...

Throat, eyes, heart, temples—these are all vital points.

Finally... Roy moved.

But... it's not backwards, it's forwards.

His body shot through the impenetrable net of playing cards like an arrow.

It wasn't dodging, it was crawling through. His body moved through the gaps between the playing cards, gaps so narrow they were almost nonexistent, so narrow that his clothes were torn open by the corners of the cards. But his skin wasn't cut, because the iron-gray Nen would slightly dent, bounce off, and dissipate the force the playing cards exerted on his skin the moment they touched it, like a layer of armor that couldn't be pierced.

He broke through the net.

Hisoka stood in front of him, less than three steps away.

His hands were still in the motion of launching playing cards, his fingers spread open, and pink Nen energy still lingered at his fingertips.

His golden pupils reflected Roy's pale, expressionless face, and his dark red, unsettlingly empty eyes.

next second...

Roy's right fist came from below, heading straight for Hisoka's jaw.

Iron-gray Nen energy condensed into a blinding ball of light on the surface of his fist, like a cannonball compressed to its limit.

Hisoka suddenly leaned back.

His upper body was at a smooth 90-degree angle, his spine like a bent bamboo, the angle of his upper body tilting backward was so great that it was almost impossible, allowing Roy's fist to glide past an inch in front of his chin, only grazing a few strands of his red hair.

At the same time, his center of gravity began to shift, his body leaned backward, and his feet began to leave the ground.

Roy's left hand...

They followed from below.

It's not a fist, it's a claw.

With his five fingers spread wide and his fingertips like knives, he smoothly gripped Hisoka's right shoulder.

Iron-gray Nen seeped from his fingertips into Hisoka's clothes, like nails driven into a wooden board, like fishhooks piercing a fish's lips.

He brought Sisso back.

It wasn't being pulled towards itself, it was being pulled towards the ground.

Hisoka's body suddenly stopped in mid-air, and then slammed into the ring ground like a shot put.

Buzz.....

Hisoka pressed down with his left hand before it touched the ground.

Pink Nen exploded from his palm, creating a shallow crater the size of a washbasin on the cement platform, sending rubble flying and dust billowing everywhere.

His body bounced off the ground with the force of the impact, and his bare feet landed on the gravel without making a sound.

The two of them distanced themselves again.

Hisoka pulled a second playing card from his pocket.

It's not the Ace of Spades, it's the Queen of Hearts.

He held the card up to his eyes, looking at the queen with a slight upturn at the corner of her mouth on the card. Her golden pupils reflected her smiling face and the dark red bloodstain at the corner of the card.

It's unknown whose it is; it might be Roy's, or it might be his own.

Roy stood still, his iron-gray Nen slowly flowing across his body like a sleeping river.

His right fist remained in the position after he threw a punch, and most of the iron-gray spiritual energy on the fist had dissipated, revealing the pale, slightly reddish skin underneath.

His breathing was light and steady, and his heartbeat was slow but deep.

Hisoka stuffed the Queen of Hearts back into his pocket.

It wasn't put away, it was inserted, the movement carrying a casual air of "that's it for today."

His body slowly straightened from a hunched posture, his spine straightening vertebra by vertebra, like a tree that had been bent over finally waiting for the wind to stop.

"We're not playing today."

Hisoka's voice was very soft, so soft that it sounded like he was coaxing a child.

"Your access to the system is not stable enough."

"If you keep hitting him, your body will fall apart."

Roy did not answer.

His right fist remained in the position after he threw a punch, and most of the iron-gray spiritual energy on the fist had dissipated, revealing the pale, slightly reddish skin underneath.

But the fist did not fall down.

Not only did he not let go, but he slowly tightened his grip, making a fine, cracking sound between his knuckles, like popping beans.

Hisoka prepared to turn around.

His right foot was slightly raised, his heel had left the ground, and his center of gravity had begun to shift towards the passage.

Just then, Roy moved.

It's not rushing, it's not running, it's a bullet.

His body was like a spring that had been compressed to its limit, suddenly released. Iron-gray Nen exploded under his feet, blasting two fist-sized shallow pits into the cement platform.

Not forward, but to the left... His body suddenly disappeared from the spot.

When it reappeared, it was already on the left edge of the ring, further away from Hisoka, but closer to the floor-to-ceiling window.

Boom!

Hisoka's right foot landed back on the ground.

He didn't let go of it on his own; he was forced to.

His head tilted slightly, his golden pupils shifting from right to left, reflecting the iron-gray figure.

The curve of his lips was still there, but his eyes no longer reflected an assessment; they reflected a reassessment.

It's like someone standing on the edge of a cliff, having already turned around to leave, when suddenly they hear a loud crash behind them. When they turn around, the cliff is still there, but the rock on the edge is gone.

Hisoka pulled his hands out of his pockets.

Spread your fingers on both hands, palms facing forward.

Pink Nen energy surged from his fingertips, like a spider shooting silk from its abdomen when threatened. Dozens of threads shot out simultaneously from his fingertips, intertwining, entwining, and weaving into a web in the air.

And Roy... had plunged headfirst into the net...

Countless pink spiritual lines traced countless curved and intersecting paths in the air, converging simultaneously from above his head, below his feet, to his left, and to his right, like a closing flower or a spider retracting its claws.

His pupils contracted slightly, and Roy's dark red eyes reflected the increasingly dense Nen lines, those Nen lines that shimmered with a pinkish glow under the light. With a slight shift in his gaze, his body slipped out.

He moved through the gaps between the Nen threads, his iron-gray Nen burning intensely on his body like a layer of metal being licked by flames. Each time he came into contact with a pink Nen thread, he emitted a sharp screech, like metal scraping against glass.

But after a few times, the layer of iron-gray spiritual energy began to thin and darken, gradually being corroded, devoured, and torn apart by those pink spiritual threads.

His collar was slashed, his cuffs were torn, and his shoulder was scraped, with streaks of dark red blood seeping from the wounds...

Despite countless tiny wounds... he!

It broke through the first layer of netting.

Behind the second layer of netting, Hisoka stood there, his ten fingers still twirling, like a pianist playing an increasingly fast etude. The pink nimojis on his fingertips seemed to come alive, moving nimbly at his command.

In an instant, a net with narrower gaps, thicker threads, and a deeper pink hue pressed down on Roy from all sides, like a woven, textured, and substantial net.

Click.....

Roy's body suddenly stopped in mid-air.

He didn't stop on his own; he was stopped by someone else.

His right foot was entangled by a pink spiritual thread that sprang up from the ground like a snake leaping from the grass and precisely wrapped around his ankle.

Then more Nen threads began to wrap around his ankles, calves, knees, and thighs, as if countless invisible hands were pulling him down, dragging him toward the ground, and stuffing him into the cocoon woven from pink Nen threads.

hiss!

Hisoka suddenly clenched his fingers, and the pink Nen threads tightened instantly, wrapping Roy's entire body from his ankles to his shoulders, from his wrists to his chest, turning him into a mummy wrapped in pink threads.

boom! ! !

Roy lost his balance in mid-air, falling like a moth caught in a spider's web, crashing heavily onto the ring floor with a dull thud, like bones breaking.

Roy lay on the ring, his iron-gray Nen burning fiercely on his body, like a layer of flames pressed under a glass plate, struggling, resisting, trying to break free from the pink threads.

Each time it burns, the pink Nen threads become thinner, darker, and brittler, but his Nen energy is also being consumed, decreasing, and weakening, like two flames devouring each other; whoever goes out first loses.

But... the next second... Hisoka's ten fingers began to slowly pull backward.

Roy's body left long marks on the ring floor.