Chapter 55: Clash

One minute ago.
On top of a building in front of the fountain plaza.
Silva stood at the edge of the rooftop, his long hair fluttering in the wind.
He took out his phone to check a text message, paused for a moment, put the phone away, and cast his wolf-like gaze down at the figures in the plaza below.
As the veil of night descended, the tower-shaped fountain in the center of the plaza burst into colorful lights.
The light show dancing along with the flowing water captured the attention of most pedestrians in the plaza.
Smiling, they walked toward the fountain pool one after another, and even the playing children ran over with laughter.
Chrollo and the other members of the Phantom Troupe bypassed the crowd drawn in by the fountain's light show.
Stepping past the brilliantly flashing light effects on the ground and amidst a sea of elongated light and shadows, they crossed the opposite side of the fountain pool and headed toward the edge of the plaza.
Atop the building.
Silva's gaze followed Chrollo and the others below, slowly locking onto one of them—
Member No. 8 of the Phantom Troupe.
Silva stared at the man as the Nen within his body surged continuously like a torrent. He then raised his right hand, the wavy Nen surrounding it instantly sharpening.
This stalactite-like, sharp Nen formation was a phenomenon that occurred when an ability user concentrated their attack on a single point, and it was also a distinctive feature of an Emission-type ability user before launching an attack.
Yet, as Silva channeled his Nen to strike, not even the slightest trace of killing intent was revealed within his Nen.
His Nen was like a turbulent river, yet devoid of any sound of water.
This was clearly the result of long and arduous refinement over many years.
Then he made his move, leaping off the edge. High in the air, the sharp Nen wrapping around his palm instantly transformed into a charged ball of Nen over a meter in diameter.
Immediately afterward, like a shooting star cutting through the night, he plummeted with absolute precision straight toward member No. 8 of the Phantom Troupe.
Before this trajectory, imbued with terrifying destructive power, descended vertically, Chrollo, Pakunoda, Kortopi, Shalnark, Machi, Nen'imau, and Lucius—the No. 8 member who took the brunt of the attack—all perceived that fleeting sense of crisis.
That sense of crisis was like an electric current flashing across the mind.
Its terror lay in the fact that...
Even if you "saw" it, your body was already too late to respond.
Accompanied by a deafening roar that echoed across the city, a crater appeared in the hard-paved stone plaza, with spiderweb-like cracks spreading outward from its center for dozens of meters across the stone ground.
Inside the crater, Lucius died instantly, his entire back twisted, deformed, and severely caved in.
Silva stood beside the corpse, his expression unchanged as he took out his phone.
As for the other members of the Phantom Troupe, they had retreated onto the cracked, spiderweb-patterned stone pavement, glaring with murderous intent at Silva, who had suddenly appeared and killed Lucius.
The opponent's assassination technique...
Speed and power went without saying; what was truly terrifying was the utter silence of the strike.
Chrollo's gaze was cold and sharp, devoid of any other emotion.
In contrast, the other members transitioned from astonishment to murder in their eyes, lingering with a sense of lingering fear.
They knew very well that if Silva's target had been any one of them, their end would have been basically identical to Lucius's.
It wasn't that they felt Silva's strength was matchless and invincible; rather, thinking this way stemmed primarily from Silva's unpredictable and elusive assassination skills.
Facing the death glares from Chrollo and the others, Silva remained unfazed. With the tip of his foot, he flipped the corpse over, took out his phone, and snapped a photo of the face.
When launching the attack, he had deliberately avoided the head to ensure the facial integrity remained intact.
In fact, given the reputation built by the Zoldyck family's elders, such measures were hardly necessary.
However, over decades of his professional career, Silva had inevitably cultivated habits born of professional ethics.
After sending the photo of the corpse to the client, Silva dialed the dedicated contact number.
A second later, the call was connected.
"The commission is complete. Please transfer the funds to the designated account."
With those words, Silva hung up the phone directly and put it away, exuding effortless composure.
Yet this action of his also amounted to declaring his identity as an assassin to Chrollo and the others.
Chrollo's gaze remained cold and sharp, staring intently at Silva.
"You killed my member. Now, you have two choices."
His voice was cool and detached. Even with a companion dead before his eyes, his tone lacked even a shred of anger or sorrow.
Silva ignored Chrollo's words and walked out of the crater on his own.
Following this movement, the atmosphere in the area instantly grew tense.
Machi and a few other members watched Silva walking to the other side of the crater, all of them releasing their killing intent without reservation.
At that exact moment, as if time had resumed its flow, the dazed pedestrians in the plaza finally snapped back to their senses, screaming as they fled the plaza in panic.
In an instant, the entire plaza dissolved into utter chaos, filled with shrieks and the crying of children.
Only the light show in the fountain remained unaffected, continuously flashing and dancing.
Chrollo did not stop his subordinates from venting their emotions, keeping his eyes fixed on Silva across the crater.
When facing various situations, the rules of the Troupe must take precedence; this was the foundational principle upon which the Troupe stood.
Therefore, regardless of strength, the moment Silva stepped forward and killed Lucius, the rule regarding the replacement of Troupe members immediately took effect.
Chrollo removed his disguise items—his hat and sunglasses—and tossed them aside. Looking at Silva, he continued in a voice as calm as still water:
"One, accept the invitation and join my group. Two, refuse and die here."
Hearing Chrollo's words, Silva abruptly halted his footsteps and looked back at Chrollo, who had already assumed a combat posture.
From the wavy Nen radiating from Chrollo, Silva sensed an unquestionable resolve.
Quite a decent aura; this young man... is no ordinary individual.
Silva evaluated inwardly, then withdrew his gaze. Still ignoring Chrollo's proposal, he walked away in silence.
Seeing that Silva consistently failed to respond to Chrollo's words, Machi and the other members suddenly unleashed their aura to its maximum limit, each baring their sharp fangs.
Yet Chrollo struck immediately.
Silva's indifferent reaction was tantamount to a refusal.
Swish!
Chrollo's figure flashed and vanished.
On the other side of the crater.
With his back turned to the members of the Troupe, Silva raised his gaze slightly. As his stepping foot landed, his figure likewise flashed and vanished.
The next moment.
A muffled sound of fists and elbows colliding suddenly echoed across the area.
At the source of the sound, two figures materialized out of thin air—Chrollo and Silva.
Bang, bang, bang...!
The two engaged in a fierce exchange of close-quarters combat, their colliding fists and kicks sending ripples of Nen pulsing outward.
Within a single second, they traded over a dozen blows using pure martial arts and Nen techniques, before abruptly separating.
As Chrollo retreated, his boots plowed white smoke from the ground, and a bloody scratch appeared on his arm. Yet he did not even spare it a glance, keeping his eyes locked firmly on Silva.
Silva also retreated and planted his feet firmly, standing as steady as a mountain as he looked at the young man before him, whose age was comparable to Illumi's.
-----------------
On the street.
Crowds poured out of the plaza, their faces etched with panic.
Hisoka, however, walked against the current, his eyes narrowing slightly as he looked toward the plaza.
In the distance.
Morel was also walking against the crowd, but his gaze was fixed on the nearby vantage points.