Along the way, Rimo and his group passed through about three layers of checkpoints set up at the edges of Meteor City.
Each time Rimo presented the pass issued by the elders, the guards immediately straightened, bowed respectfully, and cleared the way with extreme urgency. Their reactions were almost exaggerated—far beyond normal protocol.
Clearly, the elders had already spread word about them.
Considering Rimo's earlier display—an oppressive aura akin to a fully unleashed Ren—it wasn't surprising that no one dared to obstruct them.
Honestly, their attitude was so deferential it bordered on fear, as if they were serving someone far above their station.
But in the end, the result was what mattered.
After passing the final checkpoint, they officially stepped beyond the boundary of Meteor City.
Ahead lay a short stretch of highway.
For the first time, the environment began to change—scattered self-built houses appeared along the roadside, crude but distinctly different from the endless refuse fields behind them.
For those who had never left Meteor City, everything felt new.
Curiosity filled the vehicle.
Even Uvogin leaned halfway out of the window, staring wide-eyed at the unfamiliar scenery.
Soon, Rimo spotted a large sign spanning the road ahead.
Painted across it in bold letters:
[Welcome to Cambie Town]
Seeing the sign, Rimo knew they had arrived.
"Hey, we're almost there. What's the plan now? Captain, no slacking this time."
At that, Chrollo Lucilfer chuckled softly. "Since we've entered a new place, the first step is simple—we find a foothold."
"After that, we secure legal identities."
"A foothold?" Uvogin scratched his head. "You mean build another base like we did back in Meteor City?"
Chrollo shook his head with a faint smile. "No. We're only staying temporarily. There's no need for that much effort… and I suspect our deputy leader would strongly oppose your idea."
He gestured toward the driver's seat.
Rimo slowly turned his head, his expression utterly lifeless—like a dead fish staring into Uvogin's soul.
A faint, ominous aura leaked from him, reminiscent of killing intent refined through Nen.
If they really tried to rebuild another station, Rimo would be the one conjuring everything again.
He wasn't physically tired.
But mentally?
Exhausted.
He didn't leave Meteor City to keep working.
He came out to enjoy life.
Uvogin immediately broke into a cold sweat.
The memory of being "handled" by Rimo resurfaced vividly.
"I was wrong! Deputy leader—I—look ahead! Look ahead!"
Halfway through apologizing, his voice suddenly rose in alarm.
A car was rushing toward them from the opposite direction.
Rimo calmly turned forward, adjusting the steering wheel just enough.
The two vehicles passed each other by a narrow margin.
"Whoosh—!"
A collective sigh of relief filled the car.
Even the others felt a chill.
Right now, none of them were using Nen defensively. A direct collision at that speed wouldn't end lightly.
All eyes turned toward Uvogin—sharp and murderous.
Uvogin raised both hands immediately. "I was wrong!"
"Captain," Franklin Bordeau continued, bringing the topic back, "where exactly are we finding this foothold?"
Chrollo's lips curved into a faint, calculating smile.
"Naturally… with Meteor City's oldest allies—the underworld."
"You should know," he continued, "places like this—towns bordering Meteor City—are filled with small criminal organizations. Whether it's temporary shelter or forged identity documents, they can provide everything we need."
"Relying on friends when you're out, huh?"
Even Rimo's eyes lit up.
It was perfect.
The underworld could solve both problems at once—lodging and identity.
And more importantly—
Small gangs rarely had access to Nen users. If they did, they wouldn't remain small.
That meant minimal risk.
Even if violence occurred, it would simply be classified as gang conflict—nothing that would attract serious attention.
Efficient. Clean. Profitable.
Meteor City's "friends" truly lived up to their reputation.
"Rimo," Chrollo added, "keep an eye out for bars or establishments that look… disorderly. That's where we'll find what we need."
"No problem, Captain."
As they continued driving, the scenery gradually shifted.
They had fully entered Cambie Town.
Compared to the desolation of Meteor City, this place felt alive—lights, colors, movement.
Though still just a town, its proximity to Meteor City made it unusual. Criminal activity was rampant, but that same chaos fueled its economy.
It was far more prosperous than an ordinary settlement.
"Is this the outside world? It's… beautiful," murmured Pakunoda, resting her chin on her hand.
"Yeah… very different from Meteor City," Feitan Portor added.
"Tch. These people live pretty comfortably for being so weak," Nobunaga Hazama scoffed, gripping his sword.
Chrollo explained calmly, "The outside world doesn't rely solely on strength. Wealth, resources, and connections—all of these determine status."
"Strange," Uvogin frowned. "If you don't have strength, why doesn't someone just take it?"
"Because within their system, taking by force is forbidden."
"I don't get it," Uvogin muttered, flicking something out the window. "Why not just say no?"
Rimo smirked slightly. "No need to overthink it. We just follow our own rules."
"Exactly," Uvogin grinned. "We do things our way."
Suddenly—
Rimo slowed the car and brought it to a stop.
He pointed toward a bar partially sunk below street level. Two large men stood at the entrance, their expressions fierce, clearly acting as guards.
"Captain. How about this one?"
Chrollo observed it briefly, then nodded. "It looks… suitable."
He turned to the others. "Anyone coming?"
"Me!"
"Me too!"
Curiosity won instantly.
The entire group stepped out of the vehicle, ignoring the blaring horns behind them.
"Hey! You idiots! Move that car!" a voice shouted.
The one blocked behind them was a middle-aged man—bald, greasy, wearing an expensive gold watch.
Leaning out of his window, he yelled angrily at Rimo and the others.
"So noisy."
Rimo casually rubbed his ear and glanced back.
In that instant—
A wave of killing intent surged from him, sharp and overwhelming, like a predator locking onto prey—far more concentrated than ordinary hostility, closer to a focused Nen pressure.
"Uh…!"
The man's voice choked off mid-sentence.
His eyes rolled back.
Foam gathered at his mouth.
And then—
He collapsed unconscious on the spot.
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