Chapter 172: The Hard Blockade
Ronin couldn't stop his mind from racing.
Since stepping into this sub-level, everything he saw was warped—twisted into
unnatural, rhythmic spirals.
If he hadn't possessed his predecessor's memories of the Kurta Clan, he might
not have noticed the pattern. But in this enclosed subterranean space, the
prevalence of the vortex was too deliberate to be a coincidence.
Is it a curse? That was the worst-case scenario.
At least Ronin didn't feel any spiritual corruption or physical twisting within
himself or Kurapika. Not yet.
"Was he one of your people?" Vanessa asked, standing over a skeleton and staring
at the empty eye sockets.
The skull was hollow. Time had long since reclaimed any evidence of the Scarlet
Eyes.
Ronin didn't give her a definitive answer.
He left the tent and pushed deeper into the ruins. As he explored, he found more
and more parallels to the hidden Kurta village he had grown up in. The
architecture, the choice of materials, even the layout of the communal areas—it
was undeniable.
This was a Kurta settlement.
The discovery was a double-edged sword. It meant his clan wasn't just a single,
isolated tribe in the Lukso Province. There were other branches. Perhaps, in
some dark corner of the world, a Kurta civilization still thrived.
After a cursory sweep, he confirmed that this specific cavern was a closed
ecosystem. The only exit was the tunnel they had just carved.
Ronin then scouted the other two tunnels branching from the rotunda.
They were different. One was a place of shadow and gore, filled with sacrificial
altars and bloodstained symbols that radiated a cold, malicious aura.
The other was mundane—a residential area with stone houses, traces of ancient
agriculture, and a subterranean river that cut through the center of the
district.
Ronin reached a decision: He was locking this place down.
He needed time to sift through the data. These ruins held the key to the Kurta's
history. Everything he knew—the manga theories, the clan legends—pointed to the
Dark Continent.
The spirals, the biological factories, the "Devil's Apostle" moniker... it all
fit the profile of a civilization that had crossed the horizon and tried to
bring a piece of the Forbidden Continent with them.
If the Kurta were extinct in the known world of Lake Mobius, the answer lay
elsewhere.
"Sealing this won't be easy," Vanessa warned.
She meant it was possible, but the politics would be messy. Ronin offered a
small, cold smile.
Sealing the physical entrance was simple. The hard part was managing the
message. He had to be "strong" enough to make every other scavenger realize that
as long as he stood at the gate, the ruins were off-limits.
If he were a "villain," he'd just leave a Shadow Clone at the breach and
slaughter anyone who broke through. But that would create a blood feud he didn't
need.
Instead, he used Earth Style to tunnel back toward the blockade.
When he broke through and met the "Subjugation Squad" again, he was shocked by
their lack of progress. They had only cleared a few dozen meters while he had
mapped three distinct districts.
If these Nen users actually got their hands dirty instead of making the
civilians do it, they'd be through by now, Ronin thought.
But the elite of this world were arrogant. They viewed manual labor as beneath
them. They stayed back, maintaining their "readiness" for a combat encounter
that might never happen, letting the ordinary humans take the risks of a
collapse.
The digging crews didn't expect Ronin to return so soon.
Some marveled at his speed. Others looked at him with naked greed.
Vanessa wasn't behind him. To the observers, this meant there was a whole new
world of loot just beyond the rubble. Anger began to simmer in the tunnel.
Ronin sensed the shift in the air. He didn't wait for them to make a move.
"Sorry, everyone. The sector ahead is private property. It's relevant to my
interests, so I'm closing the path. No one enters."
Ronin dropped into a loose combat stance.
The meaning was clear: Might makes right.
The tunnel erupted in protests. The civilians looked to their leaders. The Nen
users, meanwhile, began a verbal assault, accusing Ronin of "monopolizing a
historical site" and "breaching the contract."
Ronin watched them. They were all talk. Not a single one of them had the balls
to step forward.
He was losing his patience.
"Anyone who wants in, step out now," Ronin's voice boomed, drowning out the
shouting. "I'll count to three. If no one challenges me, you all turn around and
get the hell out of my sight."
The tunnel went quiet. It was as if someone had hit the mute button on the
world.
Then, the sound of slow, rhythmic clapping echoed through the stone passage.
Ronin recognized the cliché. It was the same way Brennan had tried to show off.
Another 'expert'?
A man stepped into the light, still clapping. He was a Nen user, his aura
vibrating with a prickly, aggressive energy.
"Quite a show of authority you've got there—"
The man didn't finish the sentence. Ronin vanished.
He didn't have time for a monologue. If the guy was bold enough to step out and
mock him, he was bold enough to take a punch.
The man's name was Minis. He was Brennan's second-in-command and the one who had
successfully split the freelancers into two factions: the "Workers" and the
"Vultures." He had been planning to kill Ronin and loot his corpse the moment he
stepped out.
THUD.
Ronin's fist hit a heavy metal shield. The sound of groaning steel filled the
tunnel.
Another Nen user had appeared behind Minis, Conjuring a tower shield to
intercept the strike.
The barrier held for less than a second.
The shield was ripped from the Conjurer's grip by the sheer kinetic force of the
punch. It didn't stop. It became a projectile, driven forward by Ronin's fist
straight into Minis's face.
"Wait—!"
Fear finally reached Minis's eyes as the black expanse of the shield blotted out
his vision.
It was too late.
The heavy steel plate, backed by Ronin's Big Bang Impact, crushed Minis into the
floor.
Blood sprayed from the edges of the shield as it flattened the man like a bug.
The Conjurer who had created the shield stood there, untouched but trembling.
He had intended the shield to protect Minis. Instead, he had provided the anvil
for Ronin's hammer.
Looking at the crater and the flat, bloody mess where his partner used to be,
the Conjurer realized a hard truth: even without the shield, Minis would have
been dead.
When Ronin turned his crimson gaze toward him, the Conjurer didn't reach for
another card or weapon.
He threw his hands up in a total, immediate surrender.
☆☆☆
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