"You can investigate," the middle-aged woman said calmly, "but don't alert him."
"Understood, ma'am," the young man replied before leaving.
The woman gazed in the direction of Morena for a long time before sighing. "Fine, I'll allow you this little moment of joy. It won't happen again. As a second-tier royal, your fate was sealed the moment you were born."
She fell into deep thought, memories surfacing of her own past and how she had endured the same reality Morena now faced.
---
### The Flea Market
The next day, Ron headed to Yorknew City's flea market, one of the city's most distinctive features. People from all over the world gathered there, finding a corner to set up stalls, and displaying various goods with price tags. Haggling was common, and while one might stumble upon treasures, it was just as easy to be scammed.
"Focus!"
Ron recalled how, in the original storyline, Gon and Killua had used *Gyo* at this very market to find valuable items, earning themselves quite a bit of money. However, Ron wasn't interested in taking such a slow route. Selling one or two pieces of intelligence through Chii was far more efficient and required significantly less time.
His purpose here was twofold: to absorb the traits of the world mafia and to see if he could spot any true treasures.
As he wandered the market, many stall owners saw Ron, a lone youth, as an easy target and tried to draw him in. To them, Ron appeared to be a naïve "fat lamb" ripe for fleecing. Ron, however, ignored them, leisurely strolling through the stalls.
Suddenly, Ron paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"Am I being followed?" He frowned.
"If I'm not mistaken, that's the guy who was with Morena earlier. Are they trying to investigate my identity just because I spoke to her?"
The young man tailing Ron was oblivious to the fact that he had been discovered. Ron considered his options before heading toward a bustling area of the market.
---
### The Arm-Wrestling Stall
A large crowd surrounded a small stall where the atmosphere was lively.
"Go for it!"
"Win this!"
"You can do it!"
Ron squeezed through the crowd and found himself facing a peculiar stall. The table was piled high with random items, each labelled with a price. The stall owner stood behind the table, explaining the rules.
To win an item for free, a challenger had to beat the stall owner in an arm-wrestling match. However, if they lost, they were obligated to purchase an item at the listed price. The setup was a clever marketing gimmick, and judging by the owner's confidence, it was clear he trusted his own strength—or perhaps the profit margins were generous enough to take the risk.
"Next!" the stall owner called, slapping his chest with a loud thud.
A young man stepped up but was defeated almost instantly. The crowd murmured in awe as the stall owner grinned smugly.
Ron's gaze swept across the table until his eyes locked onto something—a slender object resembling a chopstick. His heart skipped a beat.
"*The Crystal Featherbone!*"
The name flashed in Ron's mind. This was one of the Seven World Treasures, objects renowned for their extraordinary qualities. Ron had encountered one of these treasures before—a flawed Scarlet Egg—while on an assassination mission. Though valuable, it paled compared to the true Seven World Treasures.
The *Crystal Featherbone* was the skeletal remnant of a rare bird, resembling black crystal. It shimmered with an eerie glow and was notoriously toxic. Even for members of the Zoldyck family, trained to resist most poisons, this toxin posed a genuine threat.
"This matches the description Grandpa Zeno gave me perfectly," Ron thought, his gaze fixed on the item. "There's no doubt about it. That's a *Crystal Featherbone*. Even a single piece is priceless."
Ron glanced at the price tag—130,000 Jenny. It was laughably cheap, so low it was almost insulting. For ordinary people, there were few effective ways to harm a Nen user. The *Crystal Featherbone*, however, was an exception. If wielded correctly, even a weak individual could eliminate a Nen user—unless the target was someone of Zeno or Silva's calibre.
"I can't let this slip through my fingers," Ron decided.
---
### The Challenge
"Can I give it a try?" Ron asked as the previous challenger stepped away in defeat. His question drew the crowd's attention. Even the stall owner was taken aback.
"A kid?" someone murmured.
"What's he thinking? So many adults failed, and he wants to try?"
The stall owner squinted at Ron. "Are you serious, kid?"
"Yes," Ron replied firmly.
The stall owner chuckled. "Alright, I'll give you a shot. If you win, you can pick anything from my stall for free. If you lose, I won't make you pay—just walk away."
He adjusted the table to accommodate Ron's height and placed his arm on the surface. "Ready when you are."
Ron stepped forward, gripping the stall owner's hand. The moment their hands met, the stall owner's expression shifted. He instantly realized that Ron's strength was far from ordinary.
"This kid… What's going on? How can someone his age have this much power?" the stall owner thought, beads of sweat forming on his forehead. "But no matter—I won't lose easily!"
The stall owner poured all his strength into his grip. As a regular human, his strength was formidable enough to win several matches at the Heavens Arena. But for Ron, it was nothing.
Ron, who had long since surpassed the strength needed to push open multiple doors of the Zoldyck estate's *Testing Gates*, barely exerted himself.
*Bang!*
With a single, effortless motion, Ron slammed the stall owner's hand onto the table.
The crowd fell silent.
"What just happened?"
"The kid won?"
"No way! He must've gone easy on him."
"This is boring if he's just letting people win."
Ignoring the murmurs, Ron turned to the stall owner, a faint smirk on his face.
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