The combat power of a Nen user depends on various factors.
If the total sum of manifested aura and potential aura is the hardware, then a well-developed Nen ability combat system is the software.
Neither can be missing.
Normally, hardware like potential aura requires the most time to accumulate, with almost no quick methods.
However, after Moro's death and rebirth, he surprisingly had the least to worry about regarding this aspect of improvement.
Otherwise, he would definitely have just given up and enjoyed the last year of his life.
Now that he saw an opportunity, he was bound to do his utmost.
Practice after practice...
There were successes, and there were failures.
When the enhanced Flying Star hit him, with some defense, it wouldn't cause swelling or bleeding, but pain was unavoidable.
But if this was the necessary path to his destination, Moro would not hesitate in the slightest, only firmly take the next step.
Moro stopped only when he was utterly exhausted, lying directly on his back on the ground.
While resting, Moro pondered his next plans.
He started by making small profits from overlooked items, then used that capital to snatch the famous blade Senro, turning a small investment into a huge gain of 800 million Jenny.
During this time, he used that money to sweep up some high-value items he remembered.
Some high-value items were easy to sell, and he didn't mind making a bit less profit, selling them as quickly as possible.
Hard-to-sell high-value items could only be stored temporarily in bank vaults, costing an exorbitant fee.
After all this hassle, not counting the valuable items in the bank vaults, he now held 3.6 billion in funds.
And Moro had accomplished this in less than a month.
In fact, if he could have slowed down, Moro could have completely focused on the Yorknew Auction two months later.
First, he would extensively collect all sorts of valuable overlooked items, then sell them all at once at the September auction!
The profits then would be in the tens of billions.
However, Moro still abandoned this idea.
Money, of course, was very useful.
But for the current Moro, having enough was sufficient.
The most fundamental goal was to improve his strength.
Earning money by finding overlooked antique collectibles was primarily to charge his Annual Rings.
Moro raised his right hand, looking at the Annual Rings on the back of his hand.
Recently, he had absorbed the Nen of twelve Nen items, yet the charging progress had only barely reached about 8%.
The energy provided by a full twelve Nen items was surprisingly less than what Senro had given.
This result made Moro realize a problem: the difficulty of charging the second ring of Annual Rings had significantly increased.
As for Senro being able to provide about 4% of the energy in one go, it was simply because Senro's Nen strength was higher than normal.
"No need to force it..."
Moro murmured to himself, then put down his hand and closed his eyes.
Half an hour later.
Moro had recovered sufficiently.
He got up, tidied himself up briefly, and put on his hat, sunglasses, and mask...
After dressing inconspicuously, Moro left the private firing range and returned to the center of Yorknew City under the cover of night.
When he sold Senro, the deceased broker boss had given him a business card related to an intelligence channel.
Moro had now resolved his identity issue, and all subsequent money he earned was properly taxed.
With clean funds and a legally valid identity, conducting transactions like intelligence gathering, which required large-scale fund flows, would become much simpler and save a lot of trouble.
Moro contacted the information broker named "Argo" using the number on the business card.
After the call connected, before Moro could speak, a mechanized synthesized voice said:
"Old Town Street, Number 164."
As soon as the voice finished, the call disconnected.
Moro didn't mind, put away his phone, and headed to the address provided by the synthesized voice.
Old Town Street in Yorknew City was located on the outskirts.
If Old Town Street were compared to the city center, it would be a stark contrast between the upper crust and the lower class.
The people living on Old Town Street were basically the底层 people struggling in their busy lives on the margins of society.
And in such places, drunkards, gamblers, and even drug addicts were common sights.
Therefore, the environment was predominantly dirty, messy, and cramped.
Looking up, one could see the well-bottom sky cut by tangled wires.
Looking down, the ground was full of sewage and trash.
As Moro entered Old Town Street, looking up and down, he vaguely thought of the Kowloon Walled City he had seen in movies before he transmigrated.
There were many similarities between the two.
Splash.
Stepping on the sewage-filled ground, Moro stopped his wandering thoughts and traversed the narrow alleyways, taking quite some effort to find Number 164.
Moro stood in front of the rusty iron gate, not even needing to knock.
With a click, the iron gate automatically opened inward.
Seeing the iron gate open automatically, Moro glanced at a button-sized anomaly near a small electric lamp diagonally above.
He was not surprised and walked inside.
Inside the door was a straight passage, about five meters long.
At the end, on the right-hand side, was a door with a curtain.
Moro lifted the curtain and saw the room's layout under dim red lights.
There was no common furniture, only a row of computers and a set of tables and chairs.
A person wearing a hooded sweatshirt sat on the backrest chair, with their back to the door, so Moro couldn't immediately tell their gender.
"Are you Argo?"
Moro asked, looking at the brim of the hood visible from behind the chair.
Creak.
The chair suddenly turned around.
Moro then saw the person's gender and appearance.
It was a woman, with an ordinary face and very heavy dark circles under her eyes.
The hair that spilled out from under the hood, even in the dim red light, couldn't hide its greasiness.
"Ah, that's me."
Argo sat cross-legged on the chair, leaning slightly forward, scrutinizing Moro, while reaching into her hood and scratching vigorously with her right hand.
"Did you bring enough money?"
After confirming her identity, her first question wasn't about the intel content, but about whether he had enough money.
Moro nodded.
Seeing this, Argo got straight to the point:
"What intel do you want to buy?"
"I want long-term whereabouts information for this person."
Moro took out a folded, hand-drawn portrait of Feitan from his pocket, opened it a few times, and faced Argo.
"Huh..."
Argo saw the portrait and shook her head without hesitation:
"Sorry, I'm not taking this business."
"It's fine, we can discuss it slowly."
Moro's expression was calm.
If Argo hadn't recognized Feitan's portrait, he would have just turned and left, not wasting time.
Conversely, if she recognized it immediately, he was willing to pay more money.
Argo frowned, pulled her right hand out of her hood, and picked at the dandruff in her fingernails, saying coldly:
"I told you, I'm not taking this business."
"More money."
Moro's tone was calm.
Argo shook her head again.
Moro raised his hand and extended two fingers:
"Two billion upfront, with more possible later."
"No problem!"
Argo's expression instantly changed, and she said earnestly:
"It's not that I love money, but your straightforwardness moved me."
"I can tell."
Moro smiled.
Argo changed the subject:
"I can take this business, but I must warn you... people who have wanted to buy information on the Phantom Troupe's whereabouts have, without exception, died terribly."
"Thanks for the warning, but that's irrelevant to the transaction."
"Tsk, then transfer the money."
"Okay."
A moment later, Moro paid two billion.
After Argo confirmed the money had arrived, she nodded in satisfaction, then immediately began to deliver the value of this intelligence fee.
"Last Monday, at 8:06:24 PM, someone within a 'limited scope' issued a bounty for a certain member of the Phantom Troupe. If you're interested in this information, I can follow up immediately."
"Oh?"
Moro's eyes widened slightly.
(End of chapter)
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