Hearing Ian’s words, the others nodded in agreement.
Along the way, Uvogin and Nobunaga occasionally asked Ian questions regarding Nen cultivation.
Ian answered them to the best of his ability.
If they wanted to refine their Nen in the future, they would eventually need to find a teacher to study it systematically.
Of course, that wasn’t a problem they needed to consider at this stage.
Before long, the four of them left the living area and arrived at a “cleared” garbage landfill.
Uvogin led Ian to a ruin, stopped in his tracks, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted, “Hey, Chrollo, Feitan, come out and meet us!” Ian watched the scene with curiosity.
A moment later, a noise came from the ruins not far away.
“Uvogin, Nobunaga, you’re late for the agreed time…” The speaker was a short boy with a covered face.
His tone was cold, and he scrutinized Ian and the others with sharp eyes.
Ian naturally recognized him as Feitan Portor, a future member of the Phantom Troupe’s combat division.
At this time, Feitan’s height was similar to what it would be in the future.
It seemed he probably didn’t grow any taller after this point.
His clothing was also vastly different from his future attire.
He wore only a worn-out white short-sleeved shirt on his upper body, and his occasionally exposed pale skin revealed clear muscle lines.
“Is this guy the weirdo you praised so highly?
I’d like to test if his strength is as ridiculously exaggerated as you say!” Standing on the mountain of garbage, Feitan clenched his fists and looked down at them, his gaze resting on Ian as he spoke with a hint of ruthlessness.
“Feitan, get it straight—we’re the ones offering to carry you guys.
If you can’t grasp the situation, I don’t mind using my fists to wake you up.” Hearing Feitan’s words, anger flashed in Uvogin’s eyes, but a ferocious smile appeared on his face as he sneered at the other boy.
Beside him, Nobunaga’s expression also turned serious, his hand resting on the hilt of his blade.
Ian frowned upon hearing Feitan’s words.
His first impression was terrible.
*’This guy…
is just as awful as in the original story,’* he thought to himself.
*’It seems I’m being underestimated…’* *’Feitan really does have this kind of personality, but…
showing such a terrible attitude right from the start, I wonder if Chrollo put him up to it or if he’s doing it on his own…’* *’Is it the corrective force of the original timeline?’* *’Or is it because they don’t trust me enough?
Judging from this first contact, could it be that these early Troupe members don’t actually want to leave Meteor City…’* *’Perhaps I should give up on this idea.
Just changing the fates of Uvogin, Machi, and the others would be enough…’* As Ian was lost in thought, Feitan noticed his completely unbothered state.
He frowned, his voice cold.
“Are you ignoring me, you bastard!” Just as his words fell, several more figures appeared one after another from the garbage mountain behind him.
“Feitan, calm down.” The speaker was a boy with a clear voice, wearing a clean black suit that was completely out of place in the dirty and messy environment of Meteor City.
“Feitan, don’t get angry yet.
Right now, Uvogin and the others want to offer us help.
We already agreed on this, didn’t we?” a tall mixed-race girl said in a deep voice.
The successive persuasion from the others made Feitan fall silent.
“Tch!” Although he was a bit resentful, he didn’t say anything more.
Meanwhile, Ian observed the newcomers, a smile forming on his lips.
Now the group was finally coming together.
“Chrollo Lucilfer, Pakunoda, Franklin…” Although a few were missing, it didn’t matter.