HunterxHunter: I Became Stronger After Death

The combat prowess of a nen user depends on multiple factors.

If total aura output and potential aura reserves are considered the hardware, then a well-constructed strategy of nen abilities serves as the software.

Both are indispensable.

Typically, potential aura—one's hardware—requires time and effort to develop, with no shortcuts available.

However, after his death and rebirth, this was the one area Moro didn't have to worry about.

Otherwise, he might have simply resigned himself to enjoying his final year of life.

Now that opportunities were within reach, he had no choice but to give it his all.

Over and over, he practiced.

Sometimes succeeding, other times failing.

When the enhanced Fraudulent Star struck him during testing, his defense prevented bruising or bleeding, but the pain was inescapable.

Still, if this pain was part of the path toward his goal, Moro didn't hesitate to take the next step.

He practiced until he was completely exhausted, finally stopping to lie flat on the ground.

While resting, Moro reviewed his next steps.

He had started by using small-scale deals to build a modest amount of capital. Then, leveraging that capital, he intercepted a deal and acquired the famous katana Sinra, multiplying his profit to 8 billion Jenny.

Over the following weeks, he used this money to snatch up significant treasures from his memories.

Some of these treasures were easy to sell; he let them go quickly, even at slightly reduced profits, to ensure rapid turnover.

More difficult-to-sell items were stored in a bank vault for a hefty fee.

After all his efforts, Moro now had 36 billion Jenny in liquid assets, excluding the rare items kept in storage.

And all of this had been accomplished in less than a month.

If he were willing to take his time, Moro could have focused on the upcoming Yorknew City auction in two months.

He could have hoarded a variety of rare items through savvy acquisitions, then sold them in September at the auction for massive profits, potentially in the hundreds of billions.

But Moro dismissed that idea.

Money was undoubtedly useful, but for Moro, enough was enough.

His primary goal was to grow stronger.

Collecting antiques and valuable artifacts was just a means to charge the Ring of Years.

Moro raised his right hand and gazed at the rings on the back of it.

Despite absorbing nen energy from 12 artifacts in recent weeks, the second ring's charge had barely reached 8%.

The energy provided by those 12 items couldn't even match what Sinra had contributed alone.

This realization made Moro understand a critical point: the difficulty of charging the second ring had significantly increased.

As for Sinra providing 4% in one go, that was simply due to the unusually high nen energy it carried.

"No need to force it…" Moro muttered to himself as he let his hand fall and closed his eyes.

Half an hour later.

Feeling rested, Moro got up, tidied himself, and donned a hat, sunglasses, and a mask.

Fully covered, he left the private shooting range and returned to Yorknew City's bustling downtown under the cover of night.

When he sold Sinra, the now-deceased intermediary had given him a business card linked to a reputable intelligence network.

Moro had since resolved his identity issues and ensured all his subsequent earnings were taxed appropriately.

With clean money and a legally valid identity, he could now handle transactions involving large sums—such as buying intelligence—more easily and with fewer complications.

Following the contact information on the card, Moro called the intelligence broker known as Argo.

The call was answered immediately. Before Moro could say a word, a synthesized mechanical voice spoke:

"164 Old Town Street."

The line went dead.

Unperturbed, Moro pocketed his phone and headed for the address.

Old Town Street was on the outskirts of Yorknew City.

The stark contrast between Old Town Street and the city center was like comparing the elite to the destitute.

Residents of Old Town Street were largely struggling, living on the fringes of society.

Here, drunks, gamblers, and junkies were commonplace.

The area's environment was filthy and chaotic.

Looking up, one could see a fragmented patch of sky, cut into pieces by tangled electrical wires.

Looking down, the ground was covered in sewage and garbage.

As Moro walked through the squalid streets, he was reminded of the Kowloon Walled City he'd seen in movies before his rebirth.

The similarities were striking.

Finally arriving at 164 Old Town Street, Moro stood before a rusted metal door.

Before he could knock, there was a click, and the door opened inward automatically.

Moro glanced at a small, button-like object near the dim light overhead, unsurprised by the mechanism. He stepped inside.

The entrance led to a straight, five-meter-long hallway.

At the end of the hall, a curtain-covered door stood to the right.

Pulling aside the curtain, Moro entered a room dimly lit by a low-wattage red lamp.

There were no traditional furnishings—only a row of computers and a single desk with a chair.

On the chair sat a figure in a hooded sweatshirt, their back to the door. Moro couldn't immediately discern their gender.

"You're Argo?" Moro asked, staring at the hood peeking over the chair.

With a creak, the chair swiveled around.

Moro found himself face-to-face with a woman.

Her features were unremarkable, but the dark circles under her eyes were prominent.

Even in the dim red light, her greasy hair spilled from beneath her hood like an oil slick.

"Yeah, that's me," Argo replied, sitting cross-legged in her chair. She leaned forward slightly, scratching her head beneath the hood.

"Brought enough money?" she asked, skipping any pleasantries and cutting straight to the point.

Moro nodded.

Seeing this, Argo got to the heart of the matter. "What kind of intel are you looking for?"

"I need long-term tracking information on this person."

Moro took out a folded, hand-drawn portrait of Feitan, unfolded it, and held it out to Argo.

"Hmm…"

Argo looked at the picture and immediately shook her head. "Sorry, I don't take jobs like this."

"That's fine. We can negotiate."

Moro's expression remained calm.

If Argo had failed to recognize the drawing, Moro would have left without wasting time.

But since she had recognized it immediately, he was willing to pay a premium.

Argo frowned, withdrawing her hand from her hood to pick at some dandruff beneath her nails. "I said no. This job is too risky."

"I'll pay more," Moro said, his tone steady.

Argo shook her head again.

Moro raised two fingers. "20 billion upfront, with additional payments as needed."

"Deal!" Argo's demeanor shifted instantly. "It's not about the money, you see. Your decisiveness won me over."

"I can tell," Moro replied with a faint smile.

Argo leaned forward, adopting a serious tone. "I'll take the job, but I have to warn you: everyone who's ever tried to buy intel on the Phantom Troupe has met a gruesome end."

"Thanks for the warning, but that's irrelevant to the transaction."

"Tch. Fine, transfer the money."

"Alright."

Moments later, Moro transferred 20 billion Jenny.

After confirming the payment, Argo nodded in satisfaction and immediately began earning her fee.

"Last Monday, at 8:06:24 PM, a bounty targeting a specific member of the Phantom Troupe was posted within a 'restricted-access' network. If you're interested in this lead, I can investigate further."

Moro's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Go on."

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