Undercurrents

Nen is an ability anyone can learn, latent within every person.

Yet the vast majority of people remain unaware of its existence.

Even so, individuals who excel in their respective fields, pouring intense focus and emotion into their craft, can unknowingly manifest nen abilities.

This phenomenon seems to be the result of extreme concentration or an emotional resonance imbued in exceptional craftsmanship.

Anything created by hand could potentially be imbued with nen energy.

Moro referred to such objects as Nen artifacts.

The residual nen in these artifacts was usually very faint, visible only through the use of "Gyo."

But what was truly remarkable—

Despite the faintness of the energy, it could resist the erosion of time, persisting for centuries or even millennia.

Even if the person who emitted the energy had long since been erased by time, and even if the artifact had deteriorated into ruin, the energy remained.

They seemed like enemies of time itself, leaving a profound sense of awe.

Moro ran his fingers along the sheath of the katana.

Its name was Sinra.

Among the Nen artifacts Moro had encountered, Sinra's nen energy ranked in the top three in terms of intensity.

Even without using "Gyo," the fluctuations of its energy were clearly visible.

If not for the knowledge he had from his previous life about Sinra's history, Moro would never have been able to seize this opportunity at such a low price.

If he remembered correctly, Sinra eventually sold for a staggering 1.26 billion Jenny.

Its association with a murder case made it significantly harder to resell, or it might have fetched an even higher price.

Without attempting to absorb its nen, Moro carefully rewrapped Sinra in its black cloth.

The masked man briefly checked the authenticity of the money without counting it, then closed the suitcase and looked at Moro.

"No problems?"

Holding the suitcase, the man's eyes darted around, his free hand resting behind his back.

Moro noted the man's cautious behavior but wasn't concerned.

Given Sinra's sketchy origins, it was no wonder the masked man was on edge.

Moro nodded to indicate everything was fine.

"Good."

The masked man backed away a few steps, then disappeared into a nearby alley.

Moro listened as the man's hurried footsteps faded, imagining he was running to avoid potential trouble.

Such sneaky, paranoid behavior was typical for Yorknew City.

Here, opportunities abounded, but so did human malice.

When the sound of footsteps completely vanished, Moro picked up Sinra and headed in the opposite direction.

Back at the hotel, Moro unwrapped Sinra from the black cloth.

The katana's sheath was wrapped in intertwining red and white stripes, its hilt and guard a pale gray. Its aged appearance hinted at its long history.

Using his thumb, Moro pushed the guard to slightly unsheath the blade.

As the blade emerged, smoke-like nen energy surged forth, quickly dispersing and spreading across every corner of the blade.

The katana's blade was pristine and reflective, mirroring Moro's face.

However, Sinra was a katana that had never been sharpened.

As a connoisseur in the miscellaneous artifact trade, Moro admired the craftsmanship before slowly resheathing the blade.

Unsharpened and unstained by blood—

Yet the blade carried an exceptionally strong nen presence.

It was hard to imagine how much emotion the creator had poured into forging this katana.

Staring at the sheathed Sinra, Moro focused his thoughts and attempted to absorb the nen energy attached to it.

Immediately, the energy surged toward Moro's right hand, visible to the naked eye.

In just a few seconds, all the energy was absorbed by the Ring of Years.

Moro looked down at the back of his hand holding the katana, noticing a small increment in the green energy bar of the second ring.

The increase was about 3–4%, a significant amount.

Normally, absorbing this much energy would have required five or six Nen artifacts.

This confirmed Sinra's exceptional energy strength, making Moro feel his efforts to acquire it were well worth it.

"The Ring of Years' ability to absorb nen energy is still functional, but…"

Moro released Sinra and raised his hand to examine it, his eyes filled with contemplation.

When the first ring was fully charged, it had allowed him to temporarily escape death, returning to his starting point and providing some relevant information in his mind.

However, that information was limited to the first ring. It revealed nothing about the other rings.

Even now, after absorbing Sinra's energy, he had only just confirmed that the Ring of Years could still absorb nen energy.

But he couldn't be sure…

Would a fully charged second ring grant him another chance to return from death?

Moro lowered his hand and shook his head slightly.

Compared to the unknown potential of the ring, his other goals had a higher priority.

Still, if Sinra could be successfully sold, he could accumulate funds while continuing to collect Nen artifacts, thereby accelerating the charging of the rings.

With that in mind, Moro began planning how to sell Sinra.

He knew only that Sinra was tied to a murder case and, after a period of obscurity, had fetched a price of 1.26 billion Jenny.

What twists and turns occurred in between remained a mystery.

What was certain was that selling the blade would entail risk.

Moro understood this well but wasn't overly cautious.

The bold eat well; the timid starve.

If he wanted substantial rewards, he had to face equivalent risks.

Having spent over half a year in the antiques and artifacts trade, Moro knew this truth better than anyone.

Suddenly, Moro looked toward the door.

At the same moment—

In the hallway outside, two burly men crept along the wall.

They positioned themselves on either side of Moro's door, exchanging glances before both fixed their attention on the door.

Elsewhere, in a brightly lit kitchen:

A boy lay naked on a countertop under the harsh light.

Next to him stood a handsome man in a white suit.

The man held a scalpel, meticulously cutting into the boy's chest cavity.

As the blade sliced through flesh and blood vessels, pressurized blood sprayed onto the man, staining his white suit a vivid red.

The gruesome sight was chilling.

If Moro were present, he would have recognized the boy on the countertop—it was one of the "pigs" who had been caged with him in the transport truck.

The man in the suit suddenly paused and asked, "How many haven't been recovered yet?"

"One," replied someone among the group of onlookers nearby.

The man in the suit lifted his gaze. "Number 11?"

"Yes," the person replied with a slight bow, their demeanor respectful.

The man narrowed his eyes and said coldly, "If you fail to retrieve them, you'll take your own life."

"Understood."

The response was calm, as if the person didn't fear for their own life.

Back in the hotel room:

A corpse lay near the door.

In the living room, a burly man, still alive but badly injured, lay near the sofa.

Moro crouched beside the bloodied man, casually spinning a freshly acquired handgun in his hand.

"Bloodhound, huh… You came running as soon as you caught the scent."

He paused, his eyes flashing with cold intent.

"Perfect. I need your help with something."

"!!!"

Hearing the icy tone in Moro's voice, the injured man's eyes filled with terror.

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