The Meaning of Killing

Competitors who drew attention at Heaven's Arena were often given titles by the spectators.

This was the stage where spectators gradually became fans.

And the birth of a title depended on the traits a competitor displayed in the ring.

Whenever Moro stepped into the ring, what he did most often was, after failing to counter an opponent's move, immediately stand there and reflect on the exchange. He would think of a better response he could use right away, then guide his opponent into recreating the previous exchange.

If he encountered an opponent with superb martial skill, the frequency and duration of his thinking would noticeably increase.

Thus, after only a few days, the spectators and fans following Moro had come to accept the title "The Thinker."

And they had discovered a pattern.

The longer Moro spent thinking in the ring, the stronger his opponent was.

During this time, Moro, as the center of discussion, had naturally heard about the so-called title of The Thinker. Many fans had even come to ask him for autographs.

That was more or less the atmosphere at Heaven's Arena, where fan culture had an exceptionally strong presence.

Moreover, because wagers could be placed on martial arts matches on the spot, many spectators who liked betting in person would voluntarily become fervent fans of consistently victorious competitors.

Moro did not care much about these unavoidable phenomena.

At any rate, The Thinker sounded much better than something like Hand Chop Killua or Palm Push Gon from the original story.

But while he could ignore a title, he would not overlook the potential threat posed by a fanbase.

Just imagine it: what if a huge crowd of fans suddenly rushed toward him...

Such a chaotic scene would provide assassins with an excellent environment for an assassination.

Even if an assassin in the crowd suddenly pulled out a Tommy gun, Moro would not have found it strange.

He had come to Heaven's Arena partly to temper his own strength, and partly to openly face the retaliation and pursuit from Nolan.

But that did not mean he would generously offer up an assassination opportunity such as being surrounded by fans.

By the fifth day.

Moro had completed ten matches and advanced to the 100th floor without any difficulty.

There were several dividing lines among the floors of Heaven's Arena.

The first was between the 1st and 100th floors.

At this level, the overall caliber of competitors was markedly higher, and the treatment they received had fundamentally improved as well.

As a result, many competitors would stop at nothing to remain above the 100th floor.

Moro knew about this, but after several days, he had fought his way up to the 160th floor without encountering any harassment or targeting.

Perhaps his performance in the ring, seemingly as indestructible as a vajra, had kept petty troublemakers from acting rashly.

"I've gained quite a lot during this time."

After finishing his match on the 180th floor, Moro returned to his room.

In less than ten days, he had fought a total of eighteen matches.

Moro had encountered all kinds of opponents and learned many offensive and defensive patterns from them. More importantly, he had broadened his understanding and steadily accumulated precious experience.

It was worth mentioning that...

He had gradually applied the observational skills he had developed in the antique appraisal business to combat.

Because he had focused on observing his opponents' Hatsu habits, after more than a dozen matches, he could sometimes predict an opponent's next move merely by noticing tiny, almost imperceptible reactions in their body language.

Ten days was not a long time, but Moro could clearly feel his own growth.

He was like a sponge or a sheet of pure white paper. Since he had started from zero, he could better appreciate the explosive progress made in such a short period.

The next day.

Moro stepped onto the match ring for the 190th floor.

Having gained something over this period, he had already set his sights on the floors above 200.

So he changed his original plan of slowing down...

As long as he won today's two matches, he would advance to the 200th floor.

"The Thinker, The Thinker!!!"

"Hahaha, The Thinker Moro! I bet on you again today, so don't disappoint me!"

"Go, Moro!!!"

The stands were packed to capacity, with most of the audience there for Moro.

A single admission ticket had already been scalped for dozens of times its original price.

This usually happened only for matches above the 200th floor, which showed just how popular Moro had become at Heaven's Arena.

And Moro had created this nearly fanatical fan effect in only ten days.

That was why martial artists who considered themselves highly skilled flocked to this arena.

It was simply the fastest path to fame.

"Here they come—this highly anticipated showdown before it has even begun!"

The commentator's bright voice spread throughout the venue, somewhat suppressing the noise in the arena.

"Now entering the ring is the undefeated Thinker Moro, who has been unstoppable so far! And his opponent is also undefeated, charging forward in triumph—Sonic Fist Taegol!"

Before the match began, the commentator introduced the basic information of both competitors as usual.

When she mentioned Sonic Fist Taegol, cheers immediately erupted from the audience.

"Taegol, take him down! You can do it!"

"What kind of bullshit is The Thinker? Taegol, send him to hell with your Sonic Fist! Hahaha!"

Clearly, in this ring world where strength reigned supreme, this competitor was also quite famous and had plenty of supporters among the spectators.

Moro stood still on the left side of the ring and looked toward the passageway ahead.

A muscular man with a crew cut emerged from the passageway and headed toward the ring.

The man was bare-chested, wearing yellow boxer briefs, with layer upon layer of white bandages wrapped around both hands.

Moro studied Taegol, and a hint of surprise appeared in his calm, steady gaze.

His opponent—

Was a Nen user.

Moro's gaze swept over the aura around Taegol's body. It was a very stable Ten, so his fundamentals were likely solid.

Meeting Moro's scrutinizing gaze, Taegol strode onto the ring with a cold expression.

"The Thinker... Heh. Those ordinary people don't understand what is really going on, so they blindly worship you, mistakenly believing this is a sign that you are in complete control."

Taegol raised his right fist. Emphasizing the words "ordinary people," he said coldly, "But after today, your corpse will help them see the truth."

"A corpse?"

Moro raised a brow, unable to understand why the other man's hostility was so intense.

For a moment, he had nearly thought Taegol was someone sent by Nolan.

Seeing Moro's somewhat baffled reaction, Taegol's eyes filled with Killing Intent. He sneered, "Don't overthink it. This isn't personal. Whenever I enter the ring, I only do one thing: kill my opponent."

"Hm? Is there really any need to go that far?"

Moro asked calmly.

At that, Taegol slowly released his aura, which coiled around his muscular body.

"If power is not for killing, then it has no meaning. And the ring legitimizes that act."

"..."

Moro frowned in silence, then smiled in understanding.

When Taegol saw him smile, his gaze turned even colder.

In the stands.

The Heaven's Arena competitors who had lost to Moro, including the woman with the long ponytail who had lost in the preliminaries, had all come to watch.

They did not possess Moro's ability to advance steadily, so they naturally paid special attention to competitors with powerful momentum.

That was why they knew Sonic Fist Taegol.

And this guy was exactly the brutal, ruthless type of competitor they least wanted to face. In the ring, he did not care about his opponents' lives at all!

"Come on, take down this bastard!"

Though they had lost to Moro, they cheered for him without reservation.

Moro's habit of reflecting in the ring had made their defeats especially frustrating.

But compared to a vicious competitor like Taegol, they would much rather face Moro.

In a bustling corner of the stands.

A handsome man stood apart from the surrounding clamor, silently watching Moro in the ring.