The first thing Tonpa did upon reaching the examination grounds was let go of the rope.
It dropped beside the pig as he braced both hands on his knees and struggled to catch his breath.
His arms ached from all the pulling, and his back had long since stopped trying to conceal its objections to the abuse he had put it through.
Beside him, Gon lowered his own pig from his shoulders and set it on the ground with ease.
Tonpa looked at him, then back at the distance he had covered while dragging his catch.
‘No.
I am not asking about his Stats.
What remains of my self-respect is not worth the risk.’
The applicants returned from the forest one after another.
Some carried their pigs, others dragged them as Tonpa had, while quite a few came back empty-handed, their clothes bearing the marks of pursuits that had not ended in their favor.
Once the last applicant returned from the hunt, Menchi stood before them and pointed toward a row of rotisserie spits prepared on the other side of the grounds.
She explained that each applicant had to clean and cook the pig they had caught themselves, and that the decision on whether they passed would rest with her and Buhara.
A wave of relief quickly swept through the applicants.
“Roast pig?
That’s all?”
“This is easier than I expected.”
“So catching it was the hardest part.”
Tonpa said nothing.
His memory of this phase was incomplete.
He remembered Menchi, the cooking, the applicants’ outrage, and then Netero’s arrival.
Many of the details had blurred together between the anime adaptation and the manga chapters he had read years ago, but he was certain of one thing.
In the end, everyone would fail.
He looked down at the pig that had nearly trampled him twice.
‘Wonderful.
I almost died for a dish they are going to reject.’
The examination grounds quickly transformed into an open-air kitchen.
Fires were lit, and the applicants began cutting and preparing their catches.
Most of them worked with a strange degree of confidence, even though some kept sneaking glances at the people beside them before every step to make sure they were doing it correctly.
Tonpa sat in front of his pig and picked up a knife.
He had no idea how to clean an animal this large.
His previous cooking experience had never gone beyond instant meals that required nothing more complicated than a pot and hot water.
He watched the man beside him cut open his pig, then carefully imitated his movements.
He could have made a more serious effort, but he already knew the outcome.
He saw no reason to waste his energy trying to impress an examiner who had already decided that no one deserved to pass.
‘Laziness is bad.
Laziness when you know the future is called planning.’
At least, that was what he chose to call it.
He secured the pig over the fire and sat back to watch it roast.
Before long, the smell of burning meat caught his attention.
One side had already blackened while the other remained too far from the flames.
He turned the spit far too late.
Gon approached and stared at the meat.
“I think the fire is too strong.”
“I know.”
“Then why haven’t you moved it farther away?”
Tonpa examined the charred side before replying with complete seriousness. This chapter is updated first at g.com.
“I’m testing a different method.”
Gon waited for an explanation.
“I’m searing the outside to lock the flavor inside.”
Gon looked back at the pig.
“Does that work?”
“We’ll find out soon.”
It sounded better than admitting that he had forgotten to turn it.
Tonpa waited for a System notification, but nothing appeared.
Either Gon had not believed him, or the lie had been so poor that even the System refused to register it.
‘Fair.’
Gon returned to his own fire.
He took the test completely seriously, watching the meat the entire time.
Kurapika helped him choose a few herbs, while Leorio entered into a lengthy argument with the two of them over the proper cooking time.
None of them knew the answer, but that did not stop Leorio from defending his opinion.
Killua, meanwhile, sat alone beside his fire, turning the spit with little apparent interest.
He looked confident that he could deal with the result no matter what it was.
Tonpa considered warning Gon that all his effort would be wasted, but quickly dismissed the idea.
If he predicted that everyone would fail and it happened exactly as he said, he would attract attention he did not need.
If his presence had somehow changed the course of events, he would merely look like a pessimistic idiot.
‘Let them cook.
Netero will arrive eventually.’
His knowledge of the future was limited.
He could not afford to waste it merely to spare Gon the trouble of roasting a pig.
When the allotted time ended, the applicants began presenting their dishes.
Buhara welcomed the first pig with enthusiasm and immediately started eating.
He did not stop after a single bite to judge the flavor.
He continued until a large portion of the dish had disappeared, then asked for the next one.
Tonpa watched him in silence.
‘Right…
I am not going to make fun of his stomach.’
It was a useful rule: never mock a man capable of eating you and then asking for another serving.
Menchi, unlike Buhara, rejected the dishes one after another.
One was burned, another was raw, and a third lacked seasoning.
Every applicant who approached her returned moments later with a face darker than their pig.
Eventually, Tonpa’s turn arrived.
He pushed his dish in front of the two examiners and waited.
Menchi picked up her knife, tapped its tip against the burned crust, then cut through it.
The outside was hard, while part of the inside remained pink in a way that inspired very little confidence.
She stared at him.
“Did you actually cook this?”
“I did what was required.
I put it over the fire.”
“You put one side of it over the fire. Follow the newest chapters on g.com.
What did you do with the rest?”
“I gave it more time to cook.”
“It’s raw.”
“Apparently, it failed to make good use of the extra time.”
She continued staring at him for two seconds, then pointed toward the group of failed applicants.
Tonpa did not argue.
He took his dish and returned to the crowd before she decided that failing him was not punishment enough.
The applicants continued presenting their dishes, but the outcome never changed.
Even those that looked better than the rest failed to satisfy Menchi.
The earlier calm gradually vanished from the examination grounds, replaced by angry murmurs.
At last, Menchi rose and announced,
“No one has passed the Second Phase.”
Silence fell for a moment, as though everyone needed time to understand what she had just said.
Then the objections erupted.
Leorio shouted that the decision was unfair, and dozens of applicants quickly agreed with him.
Kurapika tried to calm him down, though he did not appear convinced by the result either.
Gon stood in silence, staring at his dish, while Killua simply watched the chaos unfold.
Tonpa was not angry.
He had been expecting this from the beginning.
Yet as he looked at the faces surrounding him, he noticed something he had never considered before.
Dozens of people were angry for the same reason.
They all wanted the same outcome, and they were ready to listen to anyone who offered them hope.
Ever since entering the tunnel, he had been deceiving one person and then moving on to the next.
One Nen Point from this person, three from another—and each time, he had to construct an entirely new lie.
‘Why am I doing this to myself?’
He did not have to deceive them one at a time.
If an entire crowd believed a single lie, he would receive a reward from every one of them.
More importantly, he would not have to repeat the same work dozens of times.
For a moment, Tonpa felt as though he had been behaving like an amateur.
‘I was looking for victims when I should have been looking for an audience.’
There was only one problem.
Most of the applicants knew Tonpa’s reputation and would never give him a chance to speak.
Before he could find a solution, a heavy roar sounded from the sky.
The applicants raised their heads as a massive airship descended toward the examination grounds.
Its propellers sent dust billowing in every direction, and the protests gradually died down as it approached.
The airship landed, its door opened, and an elderly man with a long beard stepped out.
Tonpa recognized him immediately.
Netero, Chairman of the Hunter Association.
Every eye in the crowd turned toward him, and the objections fell silent without him needing to ask.
Tonpa studied the old man, then glanced back at the applicants.
They might not be willing to listen to the Rookie Crusher, but they would listen to a man speaking before the Chairman of the Hunter Association.
A small smile spread across his face.
‘That will be enough.’
He broke away from the crowd and hurried toward Netero, raising one hand before the old man could speak.
“Chairman!”