When it ca to his own abilities and anything that could expose his Nen conditions during combat, Shalnark was extrely cautious.
"Shalnark is even more attractive when he's serious than when he's smiling," Morin thought to himself.
Yes, n often exude a special charm when they are focused.
Rather rudely, Morin's thoughts wandered elsewhere.
According to so official materials about Shalnark, during his childhood in teor City, his face often brought him trouble.
There was even a period when Shalnark would cover his face with mud while training his muscles. When his training was complete, he would wash the mud off his face.
Ironically, this only made him more popular and brought even more trouble his way.
In teor City, strong and handso n were especially sought after by won, combining natural admiration for beauty with a preference for strength.
And speaking of gossip...
The Troupe mbers each had their own preferences and hobbies, but none of them seed to have a romantic interest—except for Shalnark.
It was said that during tis when the Troupe was scattered and acting independently, Shalnark had considered finding a girlfriend.
With his sunny disposition and good looks, he had no shortage of admirers.
But Shalnark was very picky. Too selective? Pass. Not pretty? Pass. Hot-tempered? Pass.
Shalnark once openly stated that he preferred beautiful and gentle won, and he didn't care about their past because, in his own words, "We all have one."
He had said this with remarkable confidence. While the sentint aligned with teor City's values, it was undeniably cheeky.
This pickiness led Shalnark to interact with many won, allowing him to hone a variety of flirting techniques.
Notably, Shalnark was the one who taught Chrollo how to charm won.
This was why Chrollo had managed to win over Neon so quickly and steal her ability.
Had Shalnark taken on the task himself, he probably would have achieved even faster and more effective results.
Shalnark, then, might just be the overlooked true protagonist of female-oriented Hunter fanfiction—the real king of romantic conquest!
"No wonder you're the one who tore down the Elders' Council Hall in teor City!" Shalnark exclaid, giving Morin a thumbs-up.
"That day, I was sunbathing on the roof of a building. I didn't see what happened inside the Elders' Hall, but I saw everything outside."
"It's been a long ti since soone managed to humiliate the highest rulers of teor City like that."
"The vice leader is truly remarkable—not only in his decisive actions but also in his deeply rooted Nen skills."
Shalnark offered yet another round of praise, saying warmly, "If I ever need guidance with my abilities in the future, I'll have to trouble you, Vice Leader."
The smile returned to his face, radiating warmth and approachability once more.
"Feel free to ask anyti," Morin replied with a slight nod.
At that mont, Chrollo joined the conversation.
"Morin and Shalnark have t so of the other mbers, but there are still those they haven't encountered yet."
"They both visited Heaven's Arena, got tattoos from Machi, and received their numbers."
"I'm Number 12," Shalnark said, reporting the sa number as in the original story.
"Besides the two of them, all the other Troupe mbers have also received their numbers," Chrollo said with a smile.
In other words, Chrollo had already filled out the ranks of the Phantom Troupe.
Morin's thoughts stirred slightly.
The original Troupe mbers shown in the story were not the founding lineup but a later version.
The numbers that had changed were #4 and #8.
The original #4 was the Puppeteer Omokage, a Specialist Nen user with great ambition.
As Omokage's abilities grew stronger, he began contemplating leaving the Troupe to act independently.
When Hisoka showed up seeking to join the Troupe and challenge Chrollo, Omokage seized the opportunity.
He faked his death using Hisoka's help and left the Troupe.
However, Omokage eventually spiraled into madness, beca increasingly extre, and ultimately overreached, leading to his demise at the hands of Gon, Killua, and the main cast.
As for the original #8, Morin had no impression of them at all.
The only ntion of #8 in the original story ca from Zeno Zoldyck.
When Zeno described the Troupe's strength, he ntioned:
"My son rarely loses his temper, but he considered this the most unprofitable job he's ever taken."
The original #8 had been killed by Silva Zoldyck.
This was a deal even the head of the Zoldyck family, who made a living out of killing, considered highly unprofitable.
It goes to show that the original #8 must not have been weak either.
For once, Morin was intrigued and wanted to et these original mbers of the Troupe.
Aside from Chrollo, Shalnark, and Kortopi, who had settled in this city early to wait for the rest of the group to arrive, Morin was actually the earliest mber to show up.
Of course, this was thanks to his Arbitrary Cannon, a tool that allowed him to ignore distance and traverse great lengths through the air.
The day he received the call, he launched himself to Vanbalo City from the Greed Island ga, using Razor's help.
Once the eting was over, he planned to return via the ga and retrieve the Arbitrary Cannon.
As for whether leaving the cannon with Razor would result in it being mishandled...
Morin wasn't worried. Razor was trustworthy.
However, the pirate clowns under Razor's control, stationed as NPC guards, might be tempted by the cannon's unique functionality.
If they acted rashly because of that temptation, it wouldn't be Morin's problem. It was Razor's responsibility to keep the Arbitrary Cannon safe, as he had promised Morin.
Still, the faint gleam in the pirates' eyes suggested Greed Island might experience so instability during this period.
Although Razor was strong and intimidating, he couldn't entirely suppress the pirates' yearning for the outside world—
a longing for freedom!
Morin was the first of the Troupe to arrive.
After reaching the city, he chose a random rock to sit on and quietly waited for the others.
Vanbalo City was a bustling hub of tourism, attracting many visitors, with well-developed transportation.
As such, a single airport allowed for easy access within a day.
Chrollo had set the eting date to be short—tomorrow—giving the mbers just enough ti to travel.
The rugged cliffs and crashing waves created a rare and beautiful coastal view, making the wait quite pleasant.
Before long, after a few hours had passed, another Troupe mber arrived.
Clad in her signature black dress, her figure was as striking as ever, with curves so prominent they seed on the verge of bursting out.
Her devilish physique, paired with an angelic face, drew imdiate attention upon her arrival.
Even Kortopi, usually calm, and the seasoned charr Shalnark, were montarily dazed.
"You're here, Pakunoda."
Morin rose from his rock and greeted her with a smile.
The fifth mber to arrive was none other than Pakunoda, who had left previously to train on her own.
Despite her journey, she appeared immaculate, radiating an even greater beauty, like a stunning geisha amidst adversity.
After Morin had once used the Face-Erasing Rubber to slightly adjust her nose, her overall appearance had undergone an explosive transformation with age.
Compared to her original self, her looks had improved by leaps and bounds.
"Have the others not arrived yet?"
Upon seeing Morin, a flash of joy appeared in Pakunoda's eyes before she quickly masked it and spoke nonchalantly.
"Is this a new Troupe mber?"
She first greeted Chrollo, then acknowledged Shalnark and Kortopi with polite nods.
With brief introductions exchanged, Pakunoda deed this sufficient for now.
The Phantom Troupe always ca together for significant operations. During these activities, they'd learn more about each other's personalities and thods.
After finishing her greetings, Pakunoda gracefully made her way to the rock beside Morin.
"You've beco much prettier," Morin remarked, pausing before adding, "and much stronger, too."
His words carried genuine admiration and praise.
Pakunoda's beauty needed no further comntary, and her strength had also improved significantly compared to her original portrayal.
Over this ti, she had clearly devoted herself to rigorous training.
Morin could guess what drove her to work so hard—it wasn't just for the Troupe or herself, but perhaps for sothing more…
"I've been complinted, haven't I?"
Pakunoda's brows softened slightly. "This way, the distance between us… won't keep growing, right?"
In her heart, her feelings about Morin occupied a significant place.
For so, they may seem outwardly silent, but the emotions buried deep inside only burn brighter with ti, eventually bursting forth in a mont of release.
Pakunoda and Machi were similar in this regard—reserved, but deeply emotional beneath the surface.
A simple complint was enough to lift Pakunoda's mood.
She began chatting with Morin, half-intentionally, about her recent adventures over the past months.
Morin selectively shared so of his own experiences, ntioning that he had completed his training under Biscuit and even taken on a disciple of his own.
Ti slipped away as the two talked casually.
Nearby, Chrollo elegantly flipped through a book, completely absorbed.
Shalnark was engrossed in a ga on his devilish little phone.
Speaking of which, Shalnark was a genius in the field of computers and machines.
Even back in teor City, he was adept at assembling devices from scraps, though this often involved sacrificing a few computers or phones.
However, technology evolved quickly. By the ti Shalnark managed to cobble together his first functional phone, he left teor City—only to encounter the advanced smartphones of the outside world.
Looking at his rudintary creation, Shalnark felt an unyielding urge not to be outdone. Determined, he dived into studying modern phones.
This pursuit, however, led nowhere.
In the end, he realized his devil phone was still the best for him, so he incorporated it into his Nen abilities as a Manipulator and went back to using it.
Kortopi sat silently, staring into the void. If he were a woman, he would exude the grace of an elegant lady from a prominent family.
Within the Troupe's personal savings rankings, Machi was first, Kortopi second, and Shalnark third.
Kortopi's quiet nature and small stature, coupled with his non-combatant role, ant few dared to bother him.
Shalnark, however, was less fortunate.
Much of his savings often ended up taken by other mbers, so he made a habit of spending any spare money on electronics, leaving no cash to steal.
As everyone passed the ti in their own ways, hours slipped by, and two figures appeared along the coastline.
One was short, wearing a black cloak adorned with a skull pattern, with flowing dark blue hair and piercing golden eyes.
His sharp and icy gaze gave him the appearance of soone utterly cold and unfeeling—just as the outside world often viewed the Troupe.
"Looks like so of you arrived earlier than us," he said, his tone marked by a unique inflection.
"Feitan?"
Morin turned his gaze toward him, pausing briefly before looking at the tall figure beside him.
"And…"
The tall figure was a man with no eyebrows, short brown hair, and a peculiar outfit resembling an Egyptian pharaoh's attire.
Sothing about his appearance gave Morin the impression of a tomb raider who had stolen it from a coffin.
"Phinks, I presu?"
The man next to Feitan was none other than Phinks, an impatient and dangerous individual, often the first to charge into battle during Troupe missions.
His Enhancer traits were prominent, though his taste in clothing was eccentric.
While Phinks usually wore athletic gear, he occasionally opted for Egyptian-thed outfits. It was likely a unique personal quirk, much like Feitan's fondness for a book titled The Taste of Candy and Pain.
Despite their differing temperants, Feitan and Phinks got along remarkably well and were often seen together. Even when pursuing their own tasks, they frequently tead up—much like Uvogin and Nobunaga.
Though one was an Enhancer and the other a Transmuter, their personalities didn't seem particularly complentary.
Perhaps it was simply a matter of chemistry.
Or maybe their bond stemd from… height differences?
"There are quite a few of you who arrived earlier than us!"
Phinks strode over with a hint of excitent on his face.
"Boss! Shalnark, Kortopi, and Pakunoda—you're all here!"
After greeting the familiar faces, Phinks turned toward the unfamiliar one.
"So, you're the Morin Feitan ntioned?"
Phinks' eyebrowless eyes blinked rapidly. Though not intentionally provocative, his stare was rather unsettling.
"Idiot. Call him Deputy Leader," Feitan remarked, hands in his pockets as he sauntered closer.
"Oh, right, Deputy Leader!" Phinks tapped his forehead, then turned to Feitan with mild annoyance.
"You don't call them by titles either! You're always saying Chrollo and Morin's nas directly."
"That's different."
Feitan smoothed out the wind-ruffled hem of his cloak. "I was one of the earliest mbers—old guard."
"Plus, I only say that in private. Don't bring it up in public, and definitely don't ntion it in front of them, idiot!"
"Hah, hypocrite! And if I'd been there when the Troupe was ford, there's no way you'd have gotten that number!" Phinks retorted sharply.
The two started bickering without regard for Chrollo and Morin, the very subjects of their argunt.
Before long, Phinks turned back to Morin.
"I heard you tore down the elders' house before leaving teor City?"
The abrupt shift in topic even caught Feitan off guard.
Read 80 advanced chapters at:
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