Chapter 4: The Deceptive Flying Star

Half a year.

That was the time Moro had to master his Nen ability.

In terms of technique, visible aura, and even potential aura...

Moro was far inferior to these seasoned veterans opposite him. Worse still, he lacked combat experience with Nen.

He—

Had no grand ambitions to begin with.

If anything, his only desire was to live well, eat well, and sleep well.

So he never stirred up trouble, quietly honing his Nen abilities while earning money to support Melena.

When it came to fighting, he had sparred a few times with Saixin as an Enhancer.

But those skirmishes were at most minor scuffles.

Now, facing life-or-death stakes, would he regret not spending more time strengthening himself?

Moro did not regret it, or rather, he had no spare thoughts to consider such matters.

All he knew was that now he had to rely on his Nen to carve out a sliver of hope in an almost certain death.

But before using Nen, he needed to create an opening—

In the brief silence, Moro’s mind raced.

Kuroro had stopped Shalnark's attack out of curiosity, but Moro doubted Kuroro would patiently wait for his answer.

After all, Pakunoda’s memory-search ability could easily extract all hidden information once he was captured alive.

Even if he directly revealed the name of his Nen ability and its pledges and restrictions, it probably wouldn’t break Kuroro’s concentration.

So how to make the most of this limited chance to speak?

What words could strike straight at the hearts of these few?

In the face of mortal danger, Moro’s neurons blazed wildly.

Then a name naturally surfaced—

Salasa.

The owner of this name was the very reason the Phantom Troupe was formed, and a deep pain in the hearts of Kuroro, Pakunoda, and Feitan.

“Salasa.”

Without hesitation, Moro shouted the name buried deep within the hearts of Kuroro, Pakunoda, and Feitan.

The street, the rain—

A name that should never have appeared at this moment surged forth like a boiling tide, shaking the minds of Kuroro, Pakunoda, and Feitan.

Why would this boy before them know Salasa’s name?

Just as confusion was dawning, Moro struck.

“Fraudulent Shooting Star.”

Moro raised both hands, condensing two glow-green Nen bullets about the size of eggs in his palms.

The glow-green Nen bullets shot forth, aiming directly at the momentarily distracted Pakunoda and Feitan.

Directly at the opening!

The glow-green Nen bullets swiftly reached Pakunoda and Feitan.

However, Shalnark, who had no reaction to Salasa’s name, pushed Feitan away at the last moment, allowing him to dodge the incoming Nen bullets.

Almost simultaneously, the unusually composed Kuroro steadied himself and swiftly pulled Pakunoda aside.

Both Nen bullets missed their targets.

Meanwhile,

Moro dashed toward the sidewalk.

The person guarding the back door—

Judging by the fierce murderous aura, it had to be a special ops member of the Phantom Troupe.

So before the opponent appeared, Moro would never voluntarily go that way.

His only escape routes were the sidewalks on either side!

He glanced back swiftly at Kuroro’s side.

The Fraudulent Shooting Star had missed...

Ultimately, it was because he was not skilled enough at “Emission” to release his ability faster.

But he couldn’t deny that in this brief encounter, he truly recognized Kuroro’s exceptional nature.

These named characters in the original story were for the most part not to be trifled with.

Moro lowered his gaze; though the Fraudulent Shooting Star missed, he felt no disappointment.

His Fraudulent Shooting Star had a second phase...

“Sorry.”

On the empty street, Feitan came to his senses, frowning slightly.

Shalnark looked at Feitan strangely, then turned to the figure sprinting through the rain—Moro—and gave chase.

Kuroro’s eyes grew cold; he flashed past Shalnark, bursting through the layers of rain mist in pursuit of Moro.

Feitan and Pakunoda steadied their minds.

Though doubts lingered, as long as they captured Moro alive, all mysteries would be solved.

They followed closely behind.

Ahead,

Moro glanced back at Kuroro and the others chasing him.

“About time...”

Calculating the moment, Moro raised his right hand, ready to welcome the returning shooting star.

His Fraudulent Shooting Star was a compound operational ability with an attack range of only one hundred meters.

When the shooting star reached the limit, it would freeze in midair and remain suspended for one to five seconds.

Moro could set the exact suspension time before releasing it.

When the suspension ended, the shooting star’s power, speed, and size would double, then reverse along a tracking path to seek Moro.

The power doubling effect in the second phase was the pledge of this ability.

Accompanying it was a restriction—

The returning shooting star would also harm Moro.

In other words, if nothing blocked the shooting star, Moro would have to dodge it or endure the blow head-on.

The reason Moro accepted this restriction lay in the tree rings on the back of his right hand.

Under the cover of these rings, the back of his hand was as tough as a tortoise shell...

Thus, he could use his hand to block the returning shooting star.

Timing it perfectly, Moro shifted position without warning.

Amid the continuous sound of wind and rain, two faint noises suddenly rang out.

Immediately after, two deep glow-green lights pierced the rainy night, carrying a dangerous aura as they flew toward Pakunoda and Feitan.

The sudden attack, coupled with Kuroro and Shalnark’s lead in pursuit, left Pakunoda and Feitan without any aid this time.

As the doubled-power shooting star struck, Feitan barely reacted, managing to lean his body aside.

The shooting star hit his waist and abdomen, tearing off a large chunk of flesh as if a bloodthirsty maw had bitten him.

Pakunoda was a moment slower.

Blood splattered as her face twitched; the shooting star blasted a bloody hole through her upper body, and her suddenly weakened body collapsed forward to the ground.

The abrupt turn of events disrupted Kuroro and Shalnark’s pursuit rhythm.

Moro gathered over half his visible aura into his legs at top speed and continued sprinting forward.

Do what you can, leave the rest to fate.

He had done all he could—

If he still couldn’t escape, he would accept his fate.

Just as this thought crossed his mind, a fleeting image of a face brushed past the corner of his eye, revealing a grim expression and boiling rage in the eyes.

Feitan?!

Before he could think further, a chill swept over Moro’s nose.

Then his consciousness snapped like an overstretched string, seemingly slow but actually lightning-fast, stripping away his sense of awareness.

In this final moment, a question surfaced in Moro’s heart.

Am I... dead?

.........

Cold, trembling.

Moro snapped his eyes open.

What greeted him were rows of vertical rusty iron bars.

It seemed to be an iron cage.

“Where is this...?”

As he took in his surroundings, Moro was momentarily stunned.

The lingering sensation of lost vitality remained but was quickly replaced by fragments of memory.

He had returned to the moment one year ago when he first crossed over!