Hunter X Hunter: Tombbound Power

At least with this, Ronnel could take a little initiative, paving the way for the possibility of acquiring this ability in the future.

Though Feitan and the others had Tocino to thank, Ronnel still pinned some blame on Neon Nostrade, treating these factors as leverage to make his words more convincing.

And most of what he said was true.

"So, you're saying the girl with that rare Nen ability, cannot predict her own future?"

Franklin leaned forward, trying to grasp Ronnel's meaning.

"Yeah. I heard rumors before and thought they were bogus. But now..."

Ronnel trailed off, but the others in the balloon, as well as Chrollo and those on the phone, understood what he was implying.

"I see," Chrollo murmured, lowering his head in thought. If it really involved a fortune teller, it aligned with some of his previous theories.

"Shalnark," Chrollo said into the phone.

"Got it, boss. I'll look into the details of the Nostrade family," Shalnark responded immediately.

While Uvogin and Chrollo talked over the call, gang members had spotted Uvogin's hot air balloon. Phones were buzzing as the underworld scrambled into action.

Some mobsters, eager to curry favor with the Ten Dons, rushed toward the predicted landing site. It was rumored that the Ten Dons had already deployed the Shadow Beasts, so they needed to execute their plan flawlessly to leave a lasting impression.

Meanwhile, Kurapika and his group were also en route to the balloon, acting on Light Nostrade's request.

Inside the car, Melody glanced at Kurapika, who sat beside her with his heart pounding violently. She could tell without even mentioning it—Kurapika's enemies were behind this auction attack.

And if Kurapika encountered them in his current state...

"There! The balloon's coming down!" Squala, the driver, shouted as he spotted movement ahead.

Other gang vehicles had noticed, too, engines roaring as they sped toward the landing site.

"Follow them," Basho ordered from the passenger seat.

"But keep your distance. Let the mob go first," he added calmly.

"All the participants from the auction are gone. No word on Baise or Ivlenkov either—it's likely they were killed. That means our enemies are formidable. Let these guys test the waters. If they succeed, we can step in afterward. If not, at least we'll have firsthand intel and can strike when the time is right."

Years of experience as a bodyguard had taught Basho to make quick, strategic decisions. The others in the car nodded in agreement, and the Nostrade family vehicles continued to trail the mob at a measured pace, waiting for their chance to act.

In a high-end hotel elsewhere in the city, Leiert lounged with a newspaper in hand.

"Send in the Salvatore brothers," he said lazily. "A chaotic fight is perfect for those two."

The old waiter standing by gave a slight bow and retreated. The Salvatore brothers were sharpshooter twins—specialists in long-range Nen combat.

"Robbing the underground auction and stirring up this much trouble? That's no ordinary criminal gang. This year's Yorknew City... things are getting interesting," Leiert muttered to himself.

In the middle of a desolate mountain range, several mobsters fired warning shots into the sky, barking orders at a group on higher ground.

"Better cooperate, or you'll get buried alive!" one gangster yelled.

"If you make this harder, you'll die in the ugliest way possible, you bastards!" shouted another.

Nobunaga stood on the high ground, rubbing his ears in irritation at the racket.

"Don't you think their greeting style is a little outdated?" he said with a smirk.

"Well, it's what you'd expect from gangsters." Shalnark chuckled. "But yeah, not exactly original. Just noisy."

Ronnel strolled up from behind after securing the balloon, taking in the scene below. Seeing someone finally show his face, the gangsters grew louder, shouting more threats.

Without a word, Ronnel reached into his belongings and pulled out... a Gatling gun.

After all, men love guns—whether they're hot weapons, cold steel, or something else entirely.

So it wasn't really that strange for Ronnel to have a Gatling gun tucked away.

The others, however, didn't seem to share that sentiment. The Phantom Troupe members behind him looked mildly surprised. The gangsters below? Dumbfounded.

"Drrrrrraatatatata!!"

The Gatling gun roared to life, and chaos erupted below. Cars exploded as stray bullets hit fuel tanks, sending flames and debris into the air.

When the final bullet left the barrel, Ronnel calmly stashed the Gatling gun, dusted off his hands, and surveyed the devastation. He gave a satisfied nod.

"Much better. Quiet at last."

Ronnel turned to find the rest of the Phantom Troupe staring at him with amused, curious expressions.

"Even a Gatling gun, huh? Now I really want to know what else you've got hidden in that arsenal of yours," Nobunaga said, tugging at his mustache in genuine interest.

The others were curious too, though not overly concerned.

One thing was certain—Ronnel's approach had worked. The shouting mob below was now significantly quieter, the only sounds being the occasional groan from the injured.

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