The white light faded.
Dust and smoke filled the air.
The wilderness lay deathly silent.
Uvogin held his punching stance.
He stood frozen in place.
His right arm had failed to withstand that power, which exceeded his limits.
His muscles had torn apart inch by inch.
Fine cracks covered his bones.
Blood dripped down his arm.
He panted heavily.
His vision kept darkening, his body utterly drained.
But he didn't care.
A sick, cruel satisfaction filled his face.
It was over.
That brat who didn't know his place.
Not even his ashes should be left, right?
That punch.
It was enough to flatten a small mountain.
No living creature could take it head-on at that distance.
Absolutely none.
In the distant darkness.
Kurapika's figure emerged once more.
His expression was rigid.
His lips parted slightly, and he couldn't comprehend what had happened before him.
It made no sense.
Why had Luo Ye done that?
Risking his own life to provoke a dying enemy.
Farther away, aboard the hot-air balloon.
The members of the Phantom Troupe had also witnessed that earth-shattering blow.
Nobunaga tightened his grip on his sword's hilt.
"That bastard Uvogin."
Nobunaga's voice was hoarse.
"He actually got pushed into throwing a punch that powerful."
Machi's brow furrowed.
"Who's his opponent?"
Everyone stared fixedly at the area below, shrouded in dust and smoke.
Waiting for the result.
The wind swept past.
It stirred the dust on the ground.
Little by little, the dust and smoke dispersed.
The smile froze on Uvogin's face.
In his field of vision.
That boy.
Still stood right where he had been.
The force of the punch had shredded his white T-shirt into ragged strips.
Revealing the smoothly defined muscles beneath.
On his skin.
There wasn't a single scratch.
Completely unscathed.
How was that possible?