Chapter 28: The Meaning of Slaughter

High-profile fighters at the Heavens Arena are frequently bestowed with monikers by the audience. This phase marks a transition where spectators evolve into fans, and the birth of a moniker depends entirely on the unique characteristics a fighter displays in the ring.

When Moro fought, his most frequent habit after a failed maneuver was to pause and contemplate on the spot, reviewing the exchange to immediately devise a better counter-strategy, often guiding his opponent to repeat the previous sequence. If he faced an opponent with exquisite martial arts, the frequency and duration of his reflections would noticeably increase. Thus, after just a few days, the spectators and fans watching him collectively settled on the title "The Thinker."

They soon discovered a pattern: the longer Moro spent in contemplation during a match, the higher the caliber of his opponent. During this period, Moro, as the center of attention, naturally heard his "Thinker" moniker and was frequently approached by fans for autographs. The atmosphere at Heavens Arena was defined by this powerful fan effect. Because matches involved live betting, many spectators who enjoyed wagering on-site spontaneously became fanatical supporters of the consistent winners.

Moro didn't pay much mind to these unavoidable phenomena. The title "The Thinker" was, at the very least, better than the nicknames from the original story, like "Hand-Chop Killua" or "Palm-Push Gon." However, while he could disregard the moniker, he would not ignore the potential threats lurking within the fan base. Just imagine if a huge crowd of fans suddenly rushed forward—such chaotic scenes would provide an ideal environment for an assassin. He wouldn't even be surprised if someone in the crowd suddenly pulled out a pineapple grenade.

He had come to Heavens Arena to hone his strength, but also to face the retribution and pursuit from Nolan in a dignified, public manner. This did not mean, however, that 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 pressure. There are several watersheds within the levels of Heavens Arena, and the climb from the 1st to the 100th floor is the first. At this tier, the overall level of the fighters is significantly higher, and the treatment of the athletes improves fundamentally. This leads many fighters to resort to desperate measures to maintain their status and stay above the 100th floor. Moro was aware of this, yet in the days that followed, he climbed all the way to the 160th floor without encountering any harassment or targeted interference. Perhaps his performance in the ring—resembling an indestructible diamond—deterred the petty-minded 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 eighteen matches in total. He had encountered all sorts of opponents, learned many offensive and defensive patterns, and, more importantly, expanded his cognitive horizons while accumulating invaluable experience step by step.

It is worth noting that the observational skills he honed in the antique appraisal industry had been subconsciously applied to his combat. Because he consistently focused on observing his opponents' habits in generating force, after a dozen matches, he could sometimes predict their next move just by noticing the most minute physical reactions. Though ten days was not a long time, Moro could clearly feel his own growth. Like a sponge or a blank sheet of paper, starting from zero allowed him to better appreciate the explosive progress made in such a short span.

The next day, Moro stepped onto the ring for a match on the 190th floor. Having gained so much, his sights were now set on the 200th floor and beyond. Consequently, he abandoned his original plan to slow his pace—if he won today's two matches, he would qualify for the 200th floor.

"The Thinker! The Thinker!"
"Hahaha, Thinker Moro! I’m betting on you again today, don't let me down!"
"Go, Moro!"

The stands were packed, with most of the crowd there specifically for Moro. Even a single ticket was being scalped for dozens of times its original price. Such things usually only occurred for matches on the 200th floor and above, which spoke volumes about Moro's popularity at the Heavens Arena. To cultivate such a near-fanatical fan effect in just ten days was exactly why so many self-proclaimed elite fighters flocked to this arena; it was the fastest path to fame.

"Here it is—the duel that has been the center of attention long before it even began!" The announcer's clear voice echoed throughout the venue, somewhat suppressing the roar of the crowd. "Stepping into the ring now is the unstoppable, undefeated 'Thinker' Moro! And his opponent is also undefeated, a rising star—'Sonic Fist' Tagore!"

Before the match began, the announcer introduced the basic information of both fighters as usual. When she mentioned "Sonic Fist" Tagore, a wave of cheers erupted from the stands.

"Tagore, take him out! You can do it!"
"To hell with 'The Thinker'! Tagore, use your Sonic Fist to send him to the grave, haha!"

Clearly, in the ring where strength is king, this fighter was also highly renowned and enjoyed the support of many spectators. Moro stood steady on the left side of the ring, his gaze fixed on the tunnel ahead. A lean, muscular man with a buzz cut emerged from the tunnel and walked toward the ring. He was shirtless, wearing only yellow trunks, with layers of white bandages wrapped around his hands. Moro studied Tagore, his calm and steady gaze suddenly shifting with a hint of surprise.

The man was a Nen user.

Moro's eyes swept over the aura surrounding Tagore—a very stable *Ten*. It seemed his fundamentals were not weak. Meeting Moro's scrutinizing gaze, Tagore strode onto the ring with a cold expression.

"The Thinker... Hah. Those ordinary people don't know the truth, so they blindly worship you, mistaking your hesitation for ease," Tagore said, raising his right fist. He emphasized the word "ordinary" with cold disdain. "But after today, your corpse will help them see the truth."

"Corpse?" Moro raised an eyebrow, failing to understand why the man held such intense hostility. For a fleeting moment, he even wondered if the man was sent by Nolan.

Seeing Moro's puzzled reaction, Tagore sneered, his eyes filled with killing intent. "Don't overthink it. It's nothing personal. I only do one thing when I step into the ring: I kill my opponent."

"Hmm? Is it really necessary to go that far?" Moro asked calmly.

Hearing this, Tagore slowly released his aura, which coiled around his muscular frame. "If power isn't meant for killing, it has no meaning. And the ring just happens to make this behavior legitimate."

Moro frowned in silence, then smiled with a sense of clarity. Seeing the smile, Tagore's eyes turned even colder.

In the stands, former fighters of the Heavens Arena who had been defeated by Moro, including the woman with the long ponytail who had lost in the preliminary round, were all present to watch. They lacked the strength to advance as steadily as Moro, so they naturally paid close attention to the ferocious competitors. They knew of "Sonic Fist" Tagore—this guy was exactly the type of cruel and vicious fighter they hoped never to face; he didn't care for his opponents' lives in the slightest.

"Go on, take that bastard down!" As defeated rivals, they cheered for Moro without reservation. Even though Moro's contemplative reactions in the ring had made their own losses feel particularly frustrating, they would much rather face Moro than someone as brutal as Tagore.

In a bustling corner of the stands, a handsome man stood apart from the clamor. Unlike the noise around him, he watched Moro in the ring without saying a word.