The Mystery of the Entrance

Zaban City's winter morning had no snow, yet it was colder than any biting wind.

When Ryan got off at the terminal station, the sun had just poked through the gaps between the old district's buildings in the east. Its slanting light spilled across the stone pavement like polished gray gold. The crowd was dense, yet no one spoke. Most were travelers carrying backpacks, each wearing a different expression. Some were excited, some restless, and some suppressed smiles as if they had long since figured something out.

He walked forward at an unhurried pace. Outwardly, nothing seemed amiss, but he had already made every possible judgment about entering the examination site.

In the original story, the Association would never openly reveal the meeting point, much less tell anyone who the examiners were.

The real entrance was hidden around some street corner in this city, beneath an old sushi shop marked "Closed." Before that, he would first "meet some people."

He remembered this part.

And he knew very clearly—among the guides along this route, some were real and some were fake.

Sure enough, when he turned past the third street corner, a middle-aged man in a Hunter uniform approached him. An Association badge hung from his waist, and a professional smile sat on his face. "Candidate? The Hunter Exam is at the South Ring entrance. Come with me."

Ryan paused only briefly, his gaze casually sweeping over the number on the man's badge—"C-098A."

Fake.

Association identification numbers had never used that format.

He neither argued nor paid the man any heed. He merely nodded and continued onward, as though he had not heard clearly, or as though he were simply a traveler who had stumbled in by mistake.

Seeing him leave, the middle-aged man did not press the matter. He vanished into the crowd like a gust of wind.

Not far away, another girl in an extravagant formal dress stood at a street corner. Holding a yellowed "official notice," she spoke in a syrupy voice. "All candidates whose registration numbers begin with A, please gather at the north entrance. The Association has made temporary adjustments. Do not proceed to other areas on your own..."

Ryan did not even look at her.

He did not even quicken his pace. He only made a mental note: the Association would never sort candidates by letter when notifying them where to gather.

Fake.

Further ahead, several supposed "municipal workers" wearing headsets were setting up barricades. Red cloth covered the entrance to an alleyway as they loudly announced, "A pipe has burst. The area is completely sealed off. Pedestrians, please take a detour."

Ryan looked at the alley, and the corner of his mouth lifted almost imperceptibly.

That was one of the shortest routes to the sushi shop.

He did not rashly head inside. Instead, he circled around, passed through beside a newsstand on the adjacent street, crossed an old passage where a paving stone had sunk in, then squeezed through beside a broken wall behind a row of utility poles. The wall bore the words "No Entry," but to him, it might as well have said, "Welcome back."

He had simulated this route countless times a year ago.

Ten more steps, and the sushi shop was ahead.

It was an utterly unremarkable little shop. A faded "Temporarily Closed" notice was pasted to the wooden sliding door. Half the shop's name had been scraped away, leaving only the faintly visible character for "sushi." The glass display window by the door reflected the morning light, showing his face beneath his lowered hat brim and a pair of eyes that could not conceal their sharpness.

He pushed the door open and entered.

Inside, it was cold and deserted. Even the dust seemed deliberately left where it had settled on the counter and tables. An elderly man in an apron stood behind the counter, his expression undisturbed.

"The fish rice is sold out. We're closed for now," the old man said.

Ryan did not answer. He simply stepped forward and lightly placed his hand on the third item on the menu.

The writing there was blurred, but it read:

[Special Fish Roll: Only for those who truly understand taste]

The old man glanced at him, then nodded and turned to press a small button behind the counter.

Click—

The sliding door leading past the kitchen slowly opened, revealing a narrow staircase descending underground.

He knew that he had passed the "first gate."

The real entrance was there.

There was no password and no identity check. There was only a path that would appear before those who truly "knew."

He stepped down the stairs. The lights were dim, and every footfall rang clearly against the metal steps, echoing through the narrow passage. He did not look back, nor did he need to.

The exam had not begun yet, but elimination had already quietly started outside the door.

At the end of the underground metal passage stood a gray gate that opened without a sound. Ryan entered with steady footsteps, neither slowing down nor deliberately concealing the sound of his steps.

The underground hall was not that quiet. There was only the occasional faint buzz of electricity as the lights reflected off the metal walls, along with scattered conversations.

Ryan stood in a corner, silently maintaining Zetsu.

He had completely drawn in the Ren and aura within his body. His Nen aura flowed back like water returning to a ravine, leaking not the slightest ripple. Like an inconspicuous pebble, he quietly sank into this sea of candidates.

He knew that only two Nen Ability users in this exam were true sources of danger—Hisoka and Illumi Zoldyck, who was participating under a hidden identity.

He could not be noticed, and he especially could not deliberately pay attention to Hisoka and Illumi.

After suppressing all traces of his aura, his gaze slowly swept across the hall.

Very soon, he saw the four figures he remembered most clearly.

A boy in green stood on the left side of the hall. Black hair, round eyes, and a touch of determination and wildness beyond his age. He was looking around, neither avoiding anyone's gaze nor trying to probe them.

Gon Freecss.

Near the wall, a silver-haired boy leaned against a pillar with his hands in his pockets. A skateboard stood beside the wall. He looked relaxed, yet remained alert, occasionally glancing around him.

Killua Zoldyck.

The two core members of the protagonist group had already begun traveling together, though they clearly had not yet built complete trust.

To Gon's right stood a blond youth with a cold expression, flipping through a thin booklet. His lips moved slightly as if he were silently memorizing its contents. He stood perfectly straight, like a blade yet to leave its sheath.

Kurapika.

On a seat not far away, a young man in casual clothes and framed glasses nervously adjusted the buckles on his backpack. In his fluster, he kept looking up and around, trying to find someone to talk to.

Leorio.

The four were not far apart, yet they had already formed a clear group structure.

As far as I know, they would form a temporary team in the first phase.

Ryan withdrew his gaze and continued scanning.

He did not need to actively interact with anyone. He only needed to gather enough information.

Then, on the other side, his gaze landed on a middle-aged man in worn Hunter clothing.

The man was hiding toward the rear of the hall, holding a bottle of "nutritional vitality fluid." He looked rather friendly, but Ryan knew there was an eighty percent chance the liquid had been drugged.

Tonpa.

A true "rookie killer." He did not rely on strength, but on despicability and experience.

He had participated in the original story many times. Every year, he targeted newcomers, using laxatives, deception, and misdirection to bring others down. In the previous exam, he had tried to harm the protagonist group and failed, only to be eliminated by Leorio and Kurapika working together.

This time, he clearly wanted to do it all again.

Tonpa's smile carried false warmth as his eyes swept back and forth, searching for someone who might approach him willingly. He even quietly handed several unfamiliar faces "friendly advice cards."

Ryan did not look at him. He even deliberately shifted his gaze away.

That was not a Hunter—that was a trap itself.

At the farthest corner, a tall, thin figure stood ramrod straight. He wore cloak-like clothing, his hair combed exceptionally neatly, and a strange mask covered most of his face.

He did not speak to anyone. He stood steadily, completely motionless.

Gittarackur.

Ryan narrowed his eyes—this was Illumi's disguise. He did not dare look for long and immediately shifted his gaze away.

Illumi's true goal had never been to pass the exam. He was there to watch Killua's movements and prevent his younger brother from "straying from the family's path."

He seemed to have no connection with anyone in the hall, but Ryan could sense that every few minutes, his gaze would lightly drift over Killua for a moment—emotionless, like an observer recording experimental data.

Dangerous. Extremely dangerous.

Illumi was the kind of person who "would not kill you on the spot, but could send you away while you were catching your breath."

Ryan marked him in his mind: "Keep far away."

Finally, his gaze passed over the other side of the hall.

He saw Hisoka.

The man stood in the shadows at the very edge, one hand in his pocket while the other slowly spun a playing card.

Red hair, eye shadow, cape. Still flamboyant, dangerous, and unpredictable.

His eyes were closed, the corners of his lips curled in an ambiguous smile. Ryan did not dare look even a second longer, and his gaze flicked away.

Ryan immediately lowered his presence and took a slight step back, pressing himself closer to the wall.

He knew Hisoka liked "searching for prey."

He liked "discovering surprises."

And people who possessed aura but did not reveal it were often the targets he most enjoyed tearing apart.

He could not let Hisoka notice him.

Absolutely not. Whether it was Illumi or Hisoka, either of them could kill him instantly at his current level. No matter what, he had to stay far away.

He took a deep breath and deepened his Zetsu once more, as though every pore on his body had completely shut.

At that moment, he looked like an ordinary candidate who did not know Nen at all.

He revealed no sharpness, displayed no confidence, and gave off no aura that would interest a Hunter. He was merely a boy who, before stepping into a massive storm, still did not know that danger had arrived.

Just then, the electronic screens throughout the hall suddenly lit up.

White light appeared, and a line of words slowly emerged:

[Welcome to the 287th Hunter Qualification Exam]

In an instant, all noise and whispers fell silent.

The doors opened, and familiar footsteps approached from afar.

"The exam begins now."