Chapter 12: Undercurrents

Nen is an ability that anyone can master, lying dormant within every individual.

Yet most of the world remains oblivious to its existence.

Even so, some who have dedicated themselves to their craft and achieved brilliance can unknowingly manifest Nen abilities.

It seems to be an embodiment of extreme concentration, or perhaps the infusion of intense emotion into one's mastery...

Thus, any handcrafted object holds the potential to be imbued with its creator's aura.

Morrow collectively refers to such items as Nen-imbued objects.

The residual aura left behind is often faint—so faint that Gyo is usually required to perceive it clearly.

But remarkably...

Despite being so faint, this aura withstands the erosion of time, persisting for centuries or even millennia.

Even if the one who released the aura has long been erased by time, even if the vessel has decayed beyond recognition, it remains.

They are like the natural enemies of time, a thought both awe-inspiring and humbling.

Morrow ran his fingers along the scabbard of the samurai sword.

Senro—that was the name of this blade.

Among the Nen-imbued objects he had encountered, Senro's aura ranked within the top three in intensity.

Even without Gyo, the undulating aura was plainly visible.

Had he not learned of Senro's origins from a fellow trader before his rebirth, he would never have been able to secure this opportunity at such a bargain price.

If he recalled correctly, Senro's final transaction had reached a staggering 1.26 billion Jenny.

Had it not been tied to a murder case, making it far more difficult to sell, it could have fetched an even higher price.

Morrow didn't immediately attempt to absorb the aura, instead rewrapping Senro in black cloth.

The masked man roughly verified the authenticity of the cash before snapping the briefcase shut without counting it, his gaze shifting to Morrow.

"Everything good?"

He held the briefcase, his eyes scanning the surroundings from the corners as he spoke, his other hand hidden behind his back.

Morrow noted the masked man's behavior but paid it no mind.

Given Senro's murky legal history, the man's paranoia was understandable.

Morrow gave a slight nod to confirm.

"Alright."

The masked man backed away slowly, never taking his eyes off Morrow, then turned sharply into a nearby alley.

Morrow watched as the sound of hurried footsteps faded into the distance—no doubt the man sprinting away, wary of any sudden trouble.

To Morrow, the masked man's furtive movements and jumpy reactions were nothing out of the ordinary.

That was just the nature of Yorknew City.

Opportunities abounded, but so did the malice of mankind.

The footsteps soon vanished entirely. Morrow carried Senro and left in the opposite direction.

—--

Back at his hotel, Morrow unwrapped the black cloth covering Senro.

The scabbard bore intertwining red and white stripes. The hilt and guard were a pale, weathered gray, etched with the passage of time.

He pushed the guard upward with his thumb.

As the blade slid free, a mist-like aura surged from it, dispersing and flowing across every inch of the metal.

The blade was clear and bright, reflecting Morrow's face.

Yet this was an unsharpened katana.

Morrow admired the craftsmanship as a miscellaneous appraiser before slowly sheathing it once more.

Unsharpened. Unbloodied.

And yet, it carried an aura so palpable it was impossible to ignore. It's hard to imagine the intensity of emotion poured into forging this blade by its creator.

Morrow gazed at the sheathed Senro, then willed himself to absorb the aura clinging to it.

Instantly, visible streams of aura surged toward Morrow's right hand.

Within seconds, all the aura had been absorbed by the Tree Rings.

Looking down at his sword-holding hand, Morrow saw the green energy bar in the Second Circle Growth Ring had increased slightly.

Judging by the length, it was about 3–4% full.

Previously, absorbing this much energy would have required five or six Nen-imbued objects.

This proved Senro's aura intensity was exceptional—worth intercepting after all.

"The Tree Rings' absorption function still works, but..."

Morrow released Senro and raised his hand before his face, his eyes thoughtful.

When the first ring had fully charged, it granted him temporary escape from death, returning him to the starting point while implanting relevant information in his consciousness.

But that information only concerned the first ring, revealing nothing about the others.

Only now, after absorbing Senro's aura, could he confirm the absorption function remained intact.

Thus, he couldn't be certain...

Would a fully charged second ring grant him another Death Rewind?

Morrow lowered his hand with a slight shake of his head.

Compared to the still-unknown nature of the ring's charge, other objectives took higher priority.

Still, if he could successfully sell Senro, he could both accumulate funds and continuously gather various Nen-imbued objects.

This would naturally accelerate the ring's charge efficiency.

With this in mind, Morrow began considering how to sell Senro.

Currently, he only knew Senro was involved in a murder case and, after disappearing for some time, suddenly fetched a staggering 1.2 billion at auction.

The turbulence behind this process remained unknown to him.

One certainty was that selling it would involve risks.

Morrow understood this but wouldn't be overly cautious.

Fortune favors the bold; the timid starve.

Substantial rewards demanded equivalent risks.

Having worked in antiques for over half a year, he knew this principle well.

"Hmm?"

Morrow suddenly looked up toward the door.

Simultaneously...

—--

Outside in the hallway, two burly men crept along the wall.

Moving silently, they positioned themselves on either side of the door, exchanged glances, then focused on the entrance.

—--

In a brightly lit kitchen...

Under concentrated lighting, a naked boy lay on a counter.

Beside him stood a handsome man in a white suit.

Holding a scalpel, the man carefully sliced open the boy's chest.

As skin and blood vessels split, pressurized blood sprayed onto the suited man.

Instantly, crimson stained the white suit—a glaring contrast.

Had Morrow been present, he might have recognized the boy on the counter as one of the piglets confined with him in the transport truck's cage.

The suited man paused abruptly. "How many remain unrecovered?"

"One."

From a group of onlookers nearby, someone answered respectfully.

The suited man looked up. "Number 11?"

"Yes."

The responder bowed slightly, demeanor deferential. The man in the suit narrowed his eyes slightly and said indifferently, "If you can't retrieve it, you'd better kill yourself."

"Understood."

The man responded calmly, as if unconcerned about his own life.

—--

Hotel room.

A corpse lay on the floor beside the door.

Across the room, another burly man—still alive—sat slumped near the sofa, bloodied and gasping.

Morrow crouched beside him, idly twirling the pistol he had just confiscated.

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

After a pause, a cold glint flashed in Morrow's eyes.

"Perfect. There's something I need your help with."

"!!!"

Hearing the icy tone in Morrow's voice, the man's eyes widened in terror.