The rusted bars of the prison cage had grown brittle in terms of hardness.
With the enhancement of his aura, Morrow forcefully bent the vertical iron bars apart, creating an opening large enough for him to slip through.
Ignoring the horrified gazes around him, Morrow stooped and stepped out of the cage. Hearing movement outside the compartment door, he swiftly sidestepped and reached out to grip one of the bars.
He wanted to snap the bar, but lacked the strength to do so.
Pressed for time, Morrow noticed that the top and bottom ends of the bars weren't welded shut. He yanked the bent bar free from the cage frame with all his might.
Just then, the compartment door swung open, flooding the space with sunlight. A towering figure came into view—along with a pistol!
Morrow's expression instantly darkened.
At his current level, having only just awakened his Nen, even a small-caliber pistol could deal him significant damage.
Moreover, a Nen user's control over their aura stemmed from years of accumulated practice—ingrained into the body like instinct.
So even though Morrow had successfully awakened his Nen, he still needed time to adapt, to let his body grow accustomed to the flow of aura.
Under these circumstances, firearms posed an obvious threat to him.
The moment he saw the gun, Morrow didn't hesitate. He hurled the bent iron bar in his hand straight at the figure in the doorway.
Thanks to his proficiency in Emission-type abilities, his aim and trajectory were flawless.
The rapidly spinning bar tore through the air with a sharp whistle and struck the person who had opened the door.
A pained scream rang out as the impact sent the man flying backward.
But at the same time, a faint whoosh cut through the air—a throwing knife, wreathed in aura, shot toward Morrow's leg.
An attack from another person… and a Nen user at that!
Caught off guard, Morrow barely managed to twist his body aside.
Sshhk!
The knife grazed his knee, drawing a spurt of blood.
Morrow's expression hardened. Suppressing the pain from his wound, he swiftly retreated deeper into the compartment, putting distance between himself and the door.
He had known from the start that there were two people handling the transport, so he'd been mentally prepared.
But the sudden stop of the truck, and the fact that one of them was a Nen user, still caught him off guard.
More importantly, judging by the timing of the knife attack, the other party must have already assessed the situation inside the compartment before stopping the truck. That was why they'd sent their gun-wielding companion to open the door.
And given how the gunman hadn't been on high alert when opening the door, it was clear the Nen user hadn't shared critical details with their partner.
In other words, they had deliberately sent the gunman to open the door—both to pose a visible threat and to use him as bait.
This person was utterly ruthless.
Morrow pressed his back against the side wall of the compartment, his expression grave.
He glanced up at the dimly lit corner of the ceiling, where he could faintly make out a tiny red light.
A surveillance camera.
Pulling his gaze away, Morrow frowned.
Failing to anticipate these circumstances was a lapse in judgment on his part. He hadn't accounted for every possibility.
Especially the chance that one of the transporters might be a Nen user…
But Morrow never dwelled too long on regret or frustration. Learning from mistakes and failures had always been his guiding principle. This was also the fundamental reason why he managed to sustain an antique shop in less than half a year and achieve stable profits.
It's important to know that in the industry involving antique and handmade art trades, fraud, schemes, and counterfeits are rampant.
Morrow had been deceived before, and not just once—he'd been set up multiple times.
But it was precisely these experiences that forged the crucial expertise he now possessed to handle various situations.
Morrow looked toward the carriage door.
The other party had yet to show themselves from the moment they attacked until now.
And there was one thing that bothered Morrow greatly.
He was certain that when the opponent struck earlier, they had the perfect opportunity to either severely injure him or take his life.
Yet they didn't do so, instead choosing to target his leg.
Clearly, this was a ruthless individual capable of coldly abandoning their companion in an instant, yet they held back in this situation.
"Does the importance of the 'cargo' outweigh the risk of losing a companion acting as bait…?"
Morrow realized this.
The so-called cargo, of course, referred to them—the piglets.
From this, Morrow deduced that the other party must bear the responsibility of ensuring the cargo's integrity as much as possible. He couldn't help but recall the attack on the transport vehicle, which led to the deaths of most piglets…
Was there some hidden reason behind this?
Could this also indirectly confirm the importance and value of their batch of cargo?
Unfortunately, though he had survived by sheer luck back then, he quickly lost consciousness.
By the time he woke up, he was already aboard a ship bound for Kakin.
At that time, he had no memories related to this world, and to make matters worse, he couldn't understand the language, so he couldn't immediately uncover the cause and effect of what had happened.
Afterward, he simply didn't dwell on these matters.
Otherwise, if he had known more, he might have been able to grasp more information now.
What he could confirm at present was that the attacker's priority of ensuring the cargo's integrity even took precedence over their companion's life.
Perhaps this could be exploited…
Morrow quickly checked his wound. It wasn't deep, but without proper treatment to stop the bleeding, it would remain a liability.
Time was not on his side.
Hmm?
At this thought, Morrow's pupils contracted as he stared intently at the motionless carriage door, then glanced back at the throwing knife embedded in the wall.
Time…
The other party undoubtedly held the initiative, yet they showed no signs of pressing their advantage—not even revealing themselves.
Were they overly cautious, or were they waiting for something?
Morrow studied the throwing knife but couldn't discern anything unusual. He also resisted the urge to pull it out and use it as a weapon.
Still, he vaguely felt that he couldn't afford to remain in this stalemate—he had to make a choice.
Time to gamble.
Morrow suddenly charged toward the carriage door.
—--
Out of sight, Zarzan heard the commotion and instinctively raised his left hand. Aura surged as a throwing knife materialized out of thin air, poised to be hurled toward the source of the sound.
His entire sequence of actions, along with his reflexive response, stemmed from his combat instincts.
But rationality intervened at the last moment, forcing him to suppress the urge to throw the knife.
Because, due to the blind spot in his vision, his preemptive attack might accidentally kill a piglet.
It was this split-second hesitation that allowed Morrow to successfully leap out of the carriage, landing over ten meters away, where he finally caught sight of Zarzan standing beside the transport vehicle.
The gamble had paid off. Seeing that the other party hadn't made a move, Morrow steadied himself and subtly glanced at the location of the throwing knife deep in the carriage. He then tensed his nerves, preparing to adapt to any situation.
Zarzan tightened his grip on the throwing knife, unable to hide the astonishment in his gaze as he looked at Morrow.
This kid... is too strange.
"Are you always this brave?"
Zarzan expressionlessly toyed with the throwing knife.
Morrow remained silent, using the time to let his body adjust to the flow of aura.
Noticing Morrow's silence, Zarzan frowned and said coldly, "If I had attacked just now, you'd either be dead or half-dead."
"You could have done that from the start, couldn't you?"
Morrow's face remained calm.
"…"
Zarzan's expression changed slightly.