The golden sun sank in the west, and night quietly descended.
After moving into his personal rest suite, Aoyama could finally enjoy the privileges that came with reaching higher floors. On top of that, he had earned quite a lot from the arena fights—over a hundred million Jenny—enough to call it a small taste of financial freedom.
Of course, that wasn't just from fight prizes. In truth, most of the money had come from betting on his victories.
The battle notice for the next day arrived: his opponent was a sumo specialist, a massive man whose body resembled a heavy tank. Simply standing in the ring, the man took up a tenth of the arena's space.
Aoyama thought back—he had seen sumo wrestlers on TV before. Their opponents usually went down in a single move. No one had been able to stop them.
Anticipating the fight, Aoyama slept soundly, and when morning came, he headed straight to the arena. He waited until the two matches before him finished, then stepped onto the freshly repaired ring with his opponent.
The man's name was unmistakably Japanese—Uchikawa Naiku, thirty-three years old, a professional sumo wrestler. But now he was here in Heaven's Arena, perhaps intending to make a living off fighting.
Naiku didn't look particularly dangerous. With a smirk, Aoyama lifted his middle finger and curled it toward himself like an old wuxia hero.
"Come on, then."
The referee sighed helplessly, then signaled the match to begin and retreated into the corner.
Naiku slapped his hands together, then smacked his cheeks, his massive tank-like body swaying as he loosened his legs. The ring floor groaned under his weight.
"Skinny boy," he growled, "I'll tear you apart in an instant. Don't blame me when you wake up on the floor!"
He crouched low like a toad, palms pressed against the ground, his body poised to launch forward like a cannonball.
A strange sensation struck Aoyama—Ki?!
It was faint, but the presence was undeniable. Just like with Hisoka yesterday, that same elusive pressure locked onto him. This wasn't going to be a simple match.
His smirk vanished. Without waiting for Naiku's charge, Aoyama rushed forward, driving a fist straight toward the sumo's chest as his other arm braced Naiku's chin.
"If you think you can crush me, then try!"
Naiku's eyes burned with energy—the flame-like aura of Gyo, the Nen technique of concentrating aura in a single spot for defense. He was reinforcing his chest right where Aoyama struck.
The punch landed—and it was like hitting steel. Pain shot up Aoyama's arm, forcing him to pull back, just as Naiku's enormous palm came crashing down. Their strikes collided with a thunderous shockwave that blew the referee's hat clear off his head.
The announcer cried out in excitement:
"Look at this, everyone! Uchikawa Naiku's devastating 'Great Push'—normally, no one lasts more than a single move against it! But Aoyama blocked it with his fist!"
"And don't be fooled by his size! Yesterday, Aoyama defeated every single opponent in a single round. Not one lasted longer than an instant against him!"
"Right now, it looks like we're seeing a clash of equals! Neither side is giving an inch. Which one will emerge victorious?!"
The crowd roared as they watched the impossible—two completely mismatched figures locked in a stalemate.
Aoyama grinned darkly.
"Not bad, fatty. You've got some strength."
He poured more power into his body, testing his limits—but even at full strength, he couldn't budge the mountain-like Naiku. Worse still, he could sense the man's aura rising higher and higher.
The truth was, Aoyama lacked both dōjutsu and Nen training. Without Gyo, he couldn't see what was happening: Naiku was gathering his aura, compressing it to forcefully boost both his strength and pressure.
Naiku suddenly pressed forward, forcing Aoyama back half a step. His enormous frame trembled—and with it, a shockwave blasted outward, cracking the tiled floor of the ring.
"I am an Enhancement-type Nen user," Naiku declared, eyes blazing. "I don't know what category you belong to, but it doesn't matter. With my unrivaled destructive power, I will crush you in an instant. Only you can die here."
Killing intent locked onto him. For the first time, Aoyama felt the certainty of death. He clenched his teeth, and inside him, something snapped open. Chakra surged out like a fountain bursting free.
"Eight Gates Release Formation—First Gate, Open!"
"Second Gate, Open!"
Two gates burst open in succession. The explosive aura erupting from Aoyama's body finally matched Naiku's swelling power.
Naiku's eyes widened in shock, but he didn't hesitate. He thrust forward with both hands, his aura surging to its peak.
"Ultimate Technique—Great Push!"
"Skinny boy! This move once shoved aside a mountain in my homeland. My master called it a force that can move anything. If you can't withstand it, you'll die!"
Aoyama narrowed his eyes at the incoming strike. That palm carried a terrifying power, aura condensed as densely as chakra itself. From its essence, it was the same energy—only shaped differently. He couldn't see it, but he could feel it.
He didn't summon any beasts this time. Instead, he channeled the martial arts he had pieced together—Leaf Taijutsu combined with his understanding—and raised his elbow to meet the crushing palm.
"Martial Art—Mountain-Breaking Strike!"
"You say you can push a mountain? Then my technique will shatter one!"
Palm and elbow collided.
The palm pressed forward like a colossal mountain bearing down, its killing intent locking him in place. Escape was impossible—he could only face it head-on.
Aoyama's elbow strike pierced directly into Naiku's palm like a hammer striking glass. Cracks of invisible force spread outward in an instant.
From the stands, Hisoka narrowed his eyes, savoring the clash. Others around him murmured in confusion.
"That boy… he doesn't know Nen?"
Hisoka nodded with a sly grin. "It seems not. But his body is overflowing with vital energy. If he learns Nen, he'll instantly leap into the ranks of the truly strong."
Another voice added, "You're right. I used Gyo on him—his life energy is dozens of times greater than that of an ordinary person. He's like a walking beast."
Hisoka chuckled with delight. "And compared to your old man?"
…Hard to say. In terms of sheer aura quantity alone, perhaps only Chairman Netero could start with that much.