A sharp whistling sound cut through the air.
Ron shifted to the side.
A razor-sharp arrow buried itself into the ground right beside him.
Immediately afterward, a figure charged at Ron with startling speed—a young man dressed in black night gear.
This time, Ron didn't dodge.
"Don't move!" the young man snarled, pointing a hand crossbow at Ron from barely two or three meters away.
At that range, he was certain he wouldn't miss, and he thought Ron had no time to evade.
Ron raised both hands.
"Kid," the young man said, eyeing Ron. "You're here in Block Town at this hour for the same reason as everyone else, aren't you? So what did you find out?"
"Hurry up and spill it! Otherwise, I'll have to pull this trigger. This crossbow's stronger than a handgun, and the bolts are laced with poison."
While he threatened Ron, Ron quietly assessed him in turn. To be honest, Ron felt disappointed.
He'd already noticed the man before the ambush, but hadn't paid him any mind. Who would've guessed this guy would suddenly leap out and attack? And he wasn't even a Nen user.
"So much for that email only going to strong information brokers," Ron thought. "This guy's just an ordinary person. He can't possibly be on that list…not even close."
One possibility occurred to Ron: "He's a pawn, cannon fodder."
Beyond the young man, Ron sensed other presences lurking, silently observing. That was why Ron hadn't fought back straight away.
"I don't understand what you're talking about," Ron said.
The young man let out a cold snort. "Still playing dumb? You're obviously not from this town, and you show up right now? If you don't cooperate, I'll kill you."
"Tell me whatever you know about that treasure's location."
At the word "treasure," Ron grew more certain of his guess. In Block Town, there was no actual "treasure"—just a token. But apparently, this intruder had no clue.
Ron shook his head. "Sorry, I really don't know."
"Fine. If you won't drink the toast, then you'll taste punishment. Don't blame me for what comes next!"
The young man aimed at Ron's thigh and pulled the crossbow trigger without hesitation.
Ron waited until the bolt was about to hit him.
He slipped aside, dodging the attack, then split into a dozen flickering afterimages.
The young man's pupils shrank in disbelief.
More than ten copies of Ron strode toward him. He couldn't react in time.
A blade pierced straight through his throat, and Ron yanked it back out. A large gush of blood spurted forth. The young man clutched his neck, eyes wide.
He collapsed heavily to the ground, twitched a few times, then went still.
Ron glanced at a dark corner.
"Are you still going to stay hidden?" he called. "That was your best chance to strike."
Someone stepped out from the shadows—a young man with short black hair and dark clothing. But unlike the attacker, he gave off a much stronger aura, clearly a Nen user.
"You must be from the Zoldyck family?" the newcomer asked with unexpected respect in his tone.
Ron arched an eyebrow. "And you are…?"
"I'm Dick," the young man replied. "Dick Bodo."
"Bodo—the world's second-largest assassin organization?"
Dick gave an awkward smile. "Yes."
Being "the world's second-best" could be considered quite impressive—except when facing the Zoldyck family, whose top rank had gone unchallenged for centuries. Their few members easily suppressed countless other assassin groups and families aiming for that top position, including the Bodo Assassin Group, which boasted several thousand members ranging from Nen users to experts in modern weaponry.
Ron gestured at the corpse on the ground. "One of yours?"
Dick nodded. "Yes. Just a disposable pawn. No big loss."
He then looked Ron squarely in the eye. "As an assassin, I've heard the name 'Zoldyck' more times than I can count. Finally, I get a chance to meet one in person. Would you grant me the honor of a fight?"
Ron didn't answer right away. He weighed the situation in his mind.
So this Dick was from the Bodo Assassin Group. Recognizing Ron's Ghost Step must have led him to deduce Ron's identity. That wasn't surprising—if they'd researched the Zoldycks, they'd know about variations of their techniques.
It was worth noting that the Bodo Assassin Group wasn't a single family but rather a collective of killers from all sorts of places. Anyone who joined had to change their surname to "Bodo."
Ron finally asked, "So why do you want to fight me?"
"I want to see for myself how the legendary Zoldycks fight. Just how strong are you? How big is the gap between us?"
"And that's why you didn't ambush me earlier?"
"But I'm just a kid," Ron said, spreading his hands.
"If you truly want to challenge the Zoldycks, shouldn't you go after someone your own age? Picking on a child doesn't sound right."
Dick's expression grew even more uncomfortable. "You're correct. I didn't think that through. My apologies."
Ron continued, "So…did you get hold of that token?"
"Not yet," Dick answered, shaking his head. "It's rigged with traps. Getting it won't be easy. That's why I'm waiting out here, hoping someone else tries first so I can watch and learn—or maybe steal it once they succeed."
"Mind showing me the way?" Ron asked.