A deep purple shockwave exploded outward, with Roy at its core—like a god of thunder descending to earth.
The wave tore through the air and ravaged the peaceful forest clearing. Grass, flowers, and trees bowed before its might, trembling like frightened children.
Closest to the blast, Zi Po Nian was the first to be hit. The force flung him to the ground, his body tumbling helplessly like a leaf in a storm. By the time he stabilized, his eyes were filled with a primal fear—not unlike the fear he'd once felt as a young butler, when he had mistakenly crossed paths with Maha Zoldyck and seen death in the elder's gaze.
Thump… thump… thump…
His heart beat erratically. He instinctively took a defensive stance.
"Is this power… is this meant to follow the Grand Master?"
No—this was power meant to surpass him.
How old is Maha now? Centuries old? Yet a boy, a teenager, had just unleashed an aura that warped the very air. It was not just overwhelming; it was impossible.
He… Roy… he should be the next head of the Zoldyck family.
Among the six Zoldyck sons—Illumi, Roy, Milluki, Killua, Kalluto, and Alluka—Zi Po Nian had always placed his hopes on Killua. He had inherited Silva's silver hair, his combat genius, and his unshakable will.
But today, Zi Po Nian realized… he had been wrong.
Killua was brilliant, but Roy was a monster.
Taking a deep breath, he adjusted his glasses, restoring the surveillance feed to Silva's bedroom. The image flickered, stabilized… but the people in the frame had lost their calm.
Jeno's eye twitched violently. He slammed his cane on the floor with a curse:
"Bastard!"
His eyes narrowed at the growing vortex of Qi swirling around Roy on-screen. It wasn't just Nen—it was Qi Quan, evolving beyond the limits of humanity.
Crisis… No, this is catastrophe!
This wasn't just a rebellious child anymore. Roy was stepping onto a level where Silva—and even Jeno—would need to look up at him.
"Silva… you have very little time left."
"If you want to fight him, do it soon. Or you won't even get the chance."
Jeno spoke solemnly, like a man delivering a death sentence. Silva rubbed his temple. He'd heard this warning more than three times.
Enough to form a drinking game with it.
He gave his father a suspicious look.
"Father, I heard you're not getting along with Roy lately," Silva said with mock sincerity. "Want me to talk to him? Maybe help smooth things over?"
"You might want to consider apologizing. Mend some fences."
Trying to sow discord between me and my son, huh? You should be worried about yourself, not me.
Jeno: "…"
His mouth twitched. Then, with an exaggerated sigh:
"Hmph. Suddenly remembered I had urgent business."
He practically flew out of his chair, moving like a man walking on thumbtacks. His hands were tucked behind his back, his expression grim.
Raising children to prevent old age?
More like sending yourself to the ICU. If I survive this one, it'll be divine mercy.
Silva watched him go, deadpan.
"That's the third 'urgent matter' this week," he muttered. "I must be hearing things."
Then he turned back to the surveillance feed, his grin slowly fading. Jeno was right.
Roy didn't train. He transcended.
The kind of pervert who gets stronger just by drinking water.
And now, this pervert… was his son.
How did I miss it all these years?
No wonder Jeno has migraines. Damn… now I have one too.
"I just hope he doesn't find out I'm spying on him. That would kill the first impression," Silva mumbled as he reached for his phone to halt the surveillance.
But when he looked at the screen—
Two blind white eyes were staring straight back at him.
"Peeping is a crime, dear father."
Roy's voice was calm, but carried an ominous edge.
"Are you planning to handle this privately—or should we go public?"
Outside the exhibition hall, Roy stood tall, the wind swirling around him like a cloak of storm and fury.
In front of him, Zi Po Nian trembled, eyes wide behind his glasses. Roy leaned down, his blank eyes fixing on the very tool that betrayed him.
A cold smile crept across his lips.
"Young… Young Master…" Zi Po Nian stuttered.
Cold sweat ran down his spine, his knees ready to buckle.
But a single snort from Roy froze him.
"I'm talking to my father. Don't interrupt."
"Yes."
Zi Po Nian, knowing the game was up, took off his glasses and offered them respectfully.
A faint electric spark crackled across the frame—undetectable to the human eye, but for Roy, it was a joke.
He didn't need eyes to see. He had always seen more clearly than anyone else.
"A ridiculous method."
Then he turned toward the camera's feed again.
"So, dear father… do we continue spying, or shall we speak like men?"