Chapter 2: The Phantom Troupe

Caçador: Fiquei Mais Forte Mesmo Após a Morte Porco roxo-azulado 2705 words 2026-08-05 01:36:04

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The clock struck midnight, and the rain grew heavier.

Inside the antique shop.

Morrow carefully stored away the jade figurine.

This figurine was his best find in recent times; with just a little effort, he could sell it for a good price.

This was generally how the shop made its earnings.

However, most of the shop’s profits were handed over to Melina, while Morrow focused more on the lingering spiritual energy attached to antiques or handcrafted art pieces.

He placed the box containing the figurine into a cabinet, closed the door, then glanced at the firmly shut front door before looking up at the wall clock—it was past midnight.

“Seisin should be back by now.”

Thinking about his tireless employee returning soon, Morrow set about boiling some water.

Seisin was his only staff member—diligent, dependable, and never rebellious, making him easy to manage.

That morning, Morrow had sent Seisin to meet with a client, and barring any mishaps, he would return shortly with several handcrafted art pieces.

The first cycle of the ‘annual rings’ was fully charged. Though there was no response yet, Morrow still tried to absorb spiritual energy, hoping to light up the second cycle.

After all, even if antiques or artworks lost their spiritual energy, it wouldn’t affect their market value.

Morrow brewed tea with the hot water, poured it into Seisin’s thermos, then sat down on the sofa.

When Seisin returned, they would first check if the new items held any spiritual energy...

Then they’d make a quick getaway.

What remained unknown was how Seisin would choose to act.

Would he firmly declare his loyalty, or just take the money and split?

Knowing his character, it was probably the former.

A faint smile tugged at Morrow’s lips as he looked toward the rain-drenched door.

Time passed silently.

Half an hour later, amidst the wind and rain, other sounds suddenly emerged.

Hearing the noise, Morrow knew Seisin had returned. He rose smoothly, a faint smile on his face.

Creak—

The door was pushed open.

A tall, solidly featured man strolled casually inside.

It was Seisin.

His black suit was soaked from the rain, and he carried two boxes.

“Boss, big haul!”

Seisin shut the door behind him with a flourish, his rugged face breaking into an excited grin.

Morrow cast a subtle glance at Seisin’s right foot stepping into the shop, and his smile briefly faltered.

But he quickly recovered, pointing to the counter beneath the display cabinet where the thermos of tea awaited.

“Good work. I made some tea for you.”

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“Hey, the boss is always so thoughtful—no wonder the two sisters next door are completely smitten with you.”

Seisin set down the boxes with the goods and walked over smiling broadly.

Morrow raised his eyebrows but didn’t respond to the teasing, casually asking, “Why are you back so late?”

“The rain was heavy; I got stuck in traffic on the way back.”

Seisin picked up the thermos and took a sip.

“Yeah, this rain… it’s really something.”

Morrow’s gaze remained calm as he observed Seisin from the side. From his back pocket, he pulled out a handgun.

Though both of them possessed spiritual abilities, they usually carried firearms—often quite useful.

Like at this moment—

Suddenly, Morrow raised his gun and fired beside Seisin.

Bang bang bang!

Three shots rang out in quick succession.

The first deliberately missed, while the next two targeted Seisin’s lower back.

Seisin’s pupils contracted sharply; he leaped aside just in time, narrowly avoiding the bullets aimed at him.

“Boss?”

After dodging the rounds, he looked at Morrow with puzzled confusion.

But Morrow closed the distance swiftly, delivering a powerful elbow strike.

The bewilderment on Seisin’s face vanished instantly as he raised his arm to block.

Thud.

The collision of elbows echoed heavily.

With spiritual energy enhancing their strength, a visible wave of air rippled outward.

Seisin lost the upper hand—though he blocked the blow, he was pushed back.

He retreated to the floor-to-ceiling window, stopping just short of the glass.

However, the spiritual energy he projected struck the window.

Crash.

Under the assault of that energy, the glass shattered violently, allowing the storm to pour in.

Seisin faced away from the wind and rain, expressionless, gazing at Morrow’s sudden attack.

“How did you find out?”

“At first, I just had a question in my mind.”

Morrow raised his gun, frowning.

“But now I’m certain.”

“Heh.”

Seisin smiled faintly, slightly foolish yet understanding why Morrow had deliberately fired a blank shot first.

Morrow’s brows furrowed deeper, his tone cold.

“Stop your clumsy imitation.”

“What a defeat. I thought I had disguised myself well.”

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Seisin slowly withdrew his smile and asked with curiosity, “So what exactly gave me away so quickly?”

“The right foot you stepped in with when you entered.”

Morrow’s gaze was icy.

He wasn’t joking.

Seisin was a staunch believer in divination, obsessively consulting his fortunes a day in advance.

After midnight today, Seisin’s divination result was clear—

Whether leaving or entering, he must step in with his left foot first, or he would be plagued by bad luck all week.

Why did Morrow know this so well?

Because Seisin tirelessly shared every detail of his divination rituals with him daily, trying to draw him into that world.

Unaware of the real reason, Seisin thought Morrow was just humoring him, replying flatly, “Oh, really…”

Bang bang bang—!

Morrow suddenly emptied his magazine. The violent gunfire sent bullets flying toward Seisin.

Annoyance flickered in Seisin’s heart as he shifted his body, dodging the incoming bullets while creating distance.

From his intelligence, he knew the antique shop owner was a reinforcement-type.

So after the second attack, Seisin’s decision was to keep distance.

One, to avoid giving Morrow the chance to close in.

Two, to wait for backup.

Most importantly—

He needed some time and space to cancel his transformation ability.

Otherwise, he couldn’t mobilize the full extent of his manifested spiritual energy.

Seisin retreated onto the street, expecting Morrow to pursue him.

Instead, Morrow stayed inside after emptying his magazine, as if his earlier fierce attack was just for show.

“Conservative and cautious in character…”

Seisin thought, then smiled, knowing he could now safely cancel his transformation.

Amid the heavy rain, Seisin raised his left hand, rhythmically rotating his index finger as he hummed a little tune.

Inside the antique shop.

Morrow discarded his handgun and watched the imposter Seisin’s actions.

At first puzzled, he soon realized the other was trying to cancel his mimicry transformation.

Under Morrow’s gaze, the imposter’s spiritual energy swirled and surged.

Within a second or two, the imposter’s appearance and body underwent a dramatic transformation.

In place of Seisin stood a bald man wearing only boxer briefs, bare-chested.

The man was slightly smaller than Seisin and covered with numerous irregular holes.

Morrow’s pupils contracted sharply as he recognized the man canceling his ability.

The Phantom Troupe’s…

Lev Larcade?