Xiang Nan's "craniotomy interrogation" technique cannot be used under just any circumstances.
First he has to keep the subject alive; only then can he open the skull and question the target.
Otherwise the person would simply die on the table.
Here on a barren island with no proper dical setup, that is impossible.
Even Nen users cannot match the resilience of Chira Ants.
So if Xiang Nan wants answers, he must start by "showing weakness" and hope the enemy will talk.
…
"From the outside this 'palace' looks genuine—clearly an ancient relic, so maybe people really did live here long ago.
But those figures carved on the stone wall… you added them, didn't you?" Xiang Nan asked.
The images felt "familiar" precisely because they were carved too crudely.
Although the patterns tried hard to mimic scenes from the original manga, they were made up.
Any player landing here would instinctively assu the ruin was connected to the Dark Continent, beco excited, drop their guard, enter the hall—and get killed.
That sort of cheap trick doesn't look like sothing a well-read, lore-savvy player would devise.
The V5 probably visited, confird the object, and knew there was no "shattered statue."
Xiang Nan cared because such inside information is hard to obtain; anyone using this palace as bait must know sothing about V5 classified data.
The one-eyed man said nothing, but his face admitted the truth. Clearly his background was anything but ordinary.
"Ma—what do you think? Kill him outright, or test him first?"
The swordsman suddenly shouted toward the black-robed figure behind Xiang Nan and Manman.
"Gauge his strength first," the veiled figure rasped, a baleful aura spreading around him.
"Hunting weaker players—are you doing it to keep the system's 'elimination rate' down?"
Xiang Nan ignored their discussion and kept probing.
"Hmm?"
The swordsman's expression shifted. "Elimination rate? What are you talking about—playing dumb?"
His answer actually puzzled Xiang Nan.
"Don't tell … you haven't even started the Dinsional Placent Matches yet?"
The one-eyed man sucked in a breath. "You're not Extinction 6? Could it be… Extinction 5?"
Whoosh!
Impatient, the black-robed figure lunged forward.
Realizing he could draw out no more information, Xiang Nan hurled a throwing knife and dashed straight at the one-eyed swordsman.
Without a word Manman switched to her second personality, burst out Nen, and intercepted the cloaked man, drawing fire and buying ti.
…
Clang, clang, clang!
Blinding arcs of steel split the air—
the swordsman's lightning-fast draw technique.
In re heartbeats he swung seven or eight tis, yet to the naked eye the blade seed never to leave its sheath.
Only the rifts of compressed air proved the cuts were real.
Ferocious as they were, Xiang Nan slipped through them all, even catching several strikes on his tiny scalpel with crisp tallic chis.
"Mm?"
The swordsman's face changed.
He had assud Xiang Nan blocked him earlier only because he had held back. Apparently not—this man's skill…
Before the thought finished, Xiang Nan pounced like a sprinting leopard.
His white-gloved arms crossed, forming two black after-images that lashed like iron whips, twisting through the space the swordsman occupied.
The figure shattered like foam—just an after-image.
The real swordsman had flipped backward, planting both feet flat against the palace wall, flicked his thumb to draw a few centiters of steel, then kicked off like an arrow.
Dazzling white blade swept in—faster even than Xiang Nan.
Shhh!
A slash ten ters long ripped the earth, flinging soil aside.
Xiang Nan slipped past, flung his coat to blind the enemy, and in the sa motion scattered a dozen scalpels that flashed like stars.
The swordsman's rhythm never broke: his technique flowed into a storm of contiguous slashes, a silvery barrier ten ters wide.
It shattered the scalpels, churned the air, and only then slid back into its sheath.
From a distance Xiang Nan narrowed his eyes.
For a split second he had nearly been minced.
"Sothing's off…" he muttered. Nen technique?
To hide in the hall and ambush him, the man's Nen mastery had to be high. But this sword art—astonishing speed and range—felt unlike Nobunaga's. Nobunaga had to strike with the blade itself; this man sent "sword aura" far beyond the edge. Emitter? No, it still seed wrong.
"You're an Enhancent type, aren't you?" Xiang Nan called.
The swordsman stared, touching a cut on his brow—one scalpel had slipped through the storm and nearly skewered his head.
Annoyance chilled his eye.
He stepped forward without replying; in a blink he was a phantom again.
Xiang Nan retreated, using throwing knives to keep distance while he read the enemy's moves.
Figures blurred around the palace; sword arcs carved criss-cross trenches, sliced even the thick stone walls, yet never touched Xiang Nan—while scalpels stabbed the swordsman in several places.
"Enhancent type—definitely," Xiang Nan concluded, and finally saw what had bothered him.
The sword style relied on set footwork, often leaping high to strike downward; hand motions altered the power according to fixed forms. It was built on a formal system, too rigid—utterly unlike Nobunaga's instinctive, battle-honed thod.
"Enough…"
As the opponent gathered for another blistering draw, Xiang Nan's white gloves pulsed with Nen; he whispered a few words.
The swordsman, sprinting in, was estimating distance and Xiang Nan's possible dodges when his right eye blurred—went black. Total blindness struck.
In that heartbeat Xiang Nan flashed behind him.
The man sensed danger, but the sudden impairnt slowed him half a beat.
His blade left the sheath only halfway before a crushing blow hit.
Crack!
Both arms twisted like rope; a kick snapped one leg, white bone poking through bloody skin.
"AAAH!"
He scread and toppled.
Xiang Nan showed no emotion, turning to check Manman's side of the fight…
~~~
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