Pursuit

Moro sought out Argo to secure a dependable informant who could keep track of Feitan's movements at all times, ensuring his efforts wouldn't end in failure.

He hadn't expected Argo to already have intel on the Phantom Troupe.

This surprised Moro and immediately brought to mind the two occasions in the original story when Troupe members were replaced.

While the source material provided limited details, Moro remembered the general context:

One member was replaced by Hisoka, while another died at the hands of Zeno Zoldyck's son, Silva.

However, Moro wasn't clear on the exact timing of these replacements—he only recalled that they occurred three years before the Yorknew storyline, meaning this year…

Could the bounty on a Phantom Troupe member that Argo mentioned have been taken by Silva?

If that were the case…

From the original series, Silva's attitude and his warning for Killua not to provoke the Troupe suggested that the assassination was no easy task.

Moreover, if Moro remembered correctly, Silva had fought Chrollo during the mission.

This implied that Silva likely eliminated his target under the watchful eyes of multiple Troupe members.

The thought made Moro uneasy.

Could there be a butterfly effect?

What if Feitan were present and happened to cross Silva's path at the wrong moment?

If that happened, Moro would be in grave danger.

The "death mark" on Feitan could only be broken if Moro himself killed him. If Feitan died prematurely, Moro would be dragged to his death alongside him.

Fortunately, the odds of such a scenario were slim.

Moro's anxiety stemmed largely from his recollection of a scene in which Silva and Zeno fought Chrollo.

In that encounter, Zeno realized Chrollo was stalling for time and decided to pin him down, urging Silva to attack regardless of collateral damage.

Despite being in a favorable two-on-one situation, they chose a riskier strategy for the sake of expediency.

This intense dedication to fulfilling contracts revealed a streak of madness in the Zoldycks.

It was this madness that concerned Moro.

Shaking his head to dispel his spiraling thoughts, Moro reminded himself that speculation was pointless without confirmation.

"Follow up on it," Moro said, halting his train of thought. He met Argo's questioning gaze and continued in a serious tone before she could respond:

"The Phantom Troupe has a skilled information specialist. I don't care how you gather your intel—just be cautious. Make sure you don't leave a trail for them to follow."

"Tch. Do I look like I need that reminder?"

Argo's typically lazy eyes turned sharp.

"Let me make this clear: I value my life. Do you think I'd take such a dangerous job just because of the money you offered?"

"…"

Moro remained silent, though his gaze seemed to say: Isn't that exactly why you took it?

Argo read his expression instantly and straightened up in her chair, crossing her arms with an indignant huff.

"You're so shallow! I only accepted because I'm confident in my abilities—not because of the money!"

"Oh," Moro said, nodding with faint amusement at her adamant denial.

Argo squinted, catching the sarcasm in his tone.

"You really don't get it," she muttered, raising her chin. "Let me tell you something: within one second of you calling me, I already had your basic information. The only reason you even got to see me is because I allowed it."

"Impressive. That puts my mind at ease," Moro replied, nodding again.

"Just as I thought, you're not tak—wait, what?" Argo's voice faltered as she stared at him in disbelief.

"What's wrong?" Moro asked, puzzled.

"You're supposed to question me right now!" she exclaimed, eyes wide. "Then I'd show off a bit of my skills, and you'd be convinced!"

"…"

Moro found himself at a loss for words. He briefly considered asking for a refund and finding another informant.

Sensing his thoughts, Argo gave him a suspicious look. "What are you thinking about?"

"Nothing. Just keep me updated on the pursuit," Moro said evenly.

Argo waved dismissively. "I'm paid to get the job done. Spare me the polite chatter."

"Alright. I'll wait for your report."

With his goal accomplished, Moro turned to leave.

As he walked away, Argo suddenly called out, "Since you're a big client, I'll throw in a piece of basic intel for free."

"Hm?" Moro paused and glanced back at her.

Argo spun her chair around to face the row of computers on her desk. "Someone's investigating you—not just one group, but multiple. They're clearly hostile. Oh, and just so you know, if you die, I'm not refunding your 20 billion."

Moro's eyes narrowed, ignoring her sardonic remark. "Can you find out who's looking into me?"

"Of course. Intel works both ways. If someone's digging into you, you can dig into them too—assuming you have the means."

Leaning back in her chair, Argo added seriously, "But remember, I only said I'd give you basic intel for free. Follow-ups will cost extra. Should I deduct the fee from your 20 billion?"

"Deduct it," Moro agreed.

"Alright. I'll have results for you by midnight," Argo said with a grin.

Suppressing his unease, Moro left Argo's hideout.

Thanks to Argo's warning, Moro stayed on high alert as he made his way back.

Who's investigating me? he wondered.

Could it be someone from the psychiatric facility?

After all, he had killed the two men in charge of transporting him. Was this their way of retaliating?

Unfortunately, Moro hadn't taken the time to investigate the facility's background, leaving him to speculate.

Given the facility's illegal activities—human trafficking and falsifying death certificates—it was clear their organization wielded considerable power.

Issuing a fake death certificate effectively erased a person's identity.

In the Hunter world, international law equated this crime with murder. The strength of an organization capable of such actions was undeniable.

Even their couriers were nen users…

But who's the other group investigating me?

Was it fallout from intercepting Sinra, or had his rapid accumulation of wealth attracted attention?

No matter who it was, Moro resolved to be extra vigilant in the coming days.

Driving along a quiet road, Moro headed toward the private shooting range where he was temporarily staying.

As he left the bustling city behind, the density of buildings decreased, replaced by clusters of trees.

Under the night sky, patches of light and shadow intertwined, casting a serene yet eerie atmosphere over the landscape.

Suddenly.

A surge of killing intent pierced through the calm.

A faint, fleeting trajectory cut through the darkness—a bullet aimed directly at Moro's car.

The windshield shattered with a deafening crash.

Screech!

The car swerved out of control, tires screeching against the asphalt, before slamming into a roadside tree.

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