The clock struck midnight. The rain only grew heavier.
Inside the antique shop.
Moro carefully put the jade figure away.
It was the best pickup he'd scored in months; just a little polishing and connections, and it would fetch a solid price.
That was how the shop made most of its money.
Though the bulk of the profits went straight to Morena, what Moro really cared about was the faint Nen clinging to the antiques and handmade pieces.
He locked the box in the cabinet, glanced at the closed front door, then at the wall clock. Past midnight already.
"Saixin should be back by now."
Thinking his loyal workhorse of an employee was due any second, Moro put a kettle on to boil.
Saixin was the shop's only staff member: hardworking, never complained, the perfect guy to squeeze dry without pushback.
That morning Moro had sent him to meet a client. If everything went smoothly, he'd be bringing back a few handmade art pieces.
The first Annual Ring was finally full, even if nothing had happened yet. Still, Moro planned to keep absorbing Nen and see if he could light up the second ring.
Losing the residual Nen never hurt the resale value anyway.
He brewed tea with the boiling water, poured it into Saixin's thermos, then settled onto the sofa.
When Saixin gets back, first check if anything he brought has Nen…
Then bolt in the dead of night.
The only question was what Saixin would choose.
Would he swear loyalty and follow? Or take his cut and split?
Knowing the guy… probably the former.
The corner of Moro's mouth lifted as he stared at the door rattling under the rain's assault.
Time slipped by silently.
Half an hour later, a new sound mixed with the storm.
Moro heard it, knew it was Saixin, and stood up with a faint smile.
Creak—
The door swung open.
A tall, broad-faced man in a soaked black suit strolled in casually, carrying two cases.
Saixin.
"Boss! Big haul tonight!"
He kicked the door shut behind him, excitement all over his rough features.
Moro's smile froze for a split second as he caught the right foot the man had used to step inside.
But the expression smoothed out instantly. He nodded toward the counter where the thermos waited.
"Hard work out there. Made you some tea."
"Heh, Boss is always so thoughtful. No wonder the sisters next door are head over heels for you."
Saixin set the cases down and walked over, grinning.
Moro raised a brow but ignored the teasing. "What took you so long?"
"Rain was insane. Traffic was murder the whole way back."
Saixin took a big gulp from the thermos.
"Yeah… the rain really is something," Moro said calmly, eyes locked on Saixin's profile.
His right hand slipped behind his back and drew a pistol.
Both of them were Nen users, but they still carried guns day-to-day.
Guns were useful in all sorts of situations.
Like right now.
Moro suddenly raised the pistol and fired three rapid shots past Saixin's side.
BANG BANG BANG!
The first round deliberately wide. The next two aimed straight at the man's lower back.
Saixin's pupils shrank. He twisted violently, barely dodging the bullets meant for his kidneys.
"Boss…?"
After evading, he turned to Moro, confusion written across his face.
What answered him was Moro closing the distance with a vicious elbow strike.
The confusion on "Saixin's" face vanished in an instant. At the last possible moment he raised an arm to block.
WHAM.
The impact of elbow on forearm, both reinforced with Nen, sent a visible shockwave rippling outward.
Saixin had lost the initiative. Even though he blocked at the final second, the force still drove him backward.
He slid all the way to the floor-to-ceiling window. His body never touched the glass, but the aggressive aura flaring off him did.
CRASH!
The entire window exploded outward. Wind and rain immediately poured in.
Backlit by the storm, "Saixin" stared expressionlessly at the man who had just attacked him.
"How'd you know?"
"At first it was just a hunch."
Moro kept the gun trained on him, frowning. "Now I'm sure."
"Heh."
The impostor flashed a dopey grin, finally understanding why Moro had fired that first warning shot.
Moro's scowl deepened. "Drop the shitty imitation."
"Man, this is depressing. I thought I had him down perfectly."
The fake Saixin slowly let the smile fade, curiosity creeping in. "So what gave it away so fast?"
"The right foot you stepped in with."
Moro's eyes were ice.
He wasn't joking.
Saixin was a die-hard divination nut. Every single day he got his fortune read, then followed it religiously.
And for today—past midnight already—the fortune had been clear:
No matter leaving or entering a building, always lead with the left foot, or suffer terrible luck for the next week.
How did Moro know it so well?
Because Saixin never shut up about divination and was constantly trying to convert him.
The impostor had no idea about any of that. His face went blank. "Oh… right…"
BANG BANG BANG BANG—!
Moro emptied the magazine. Bullets screamed toward the fake.
Annoyance flared in the impostor's chest. He twisted and danced through the hail of lead, putting distance between them at the same time.
According to the intel he'd been given, the antique shop owner was an Enhancer, so once the second fight started, his plan was simple: stay out of arm's reach and wait for backup.
More importantly…
Releasing his transformation ability required a couple seconds and a little breathing room.
Also, if he didn't drop the disguise, he couldn't bring out 100% of his Manifested aura.
He backed out onto the street, expecting Moro to chase.
Instead, after emptying the gun, Moro stayed inside the shop, as if that earlier burst of aggression had just been a front.
Cautious and conservative personality…
The impostor smiled at the thought. Perfect. He could drop the transformation right here.
As the idea formed, he stood in the pouring rain, raised his left hand, and spun his index finger rhythmically while humming a little tune.
Inside the shop.
Moro tossed the empty pistol aside and watched the fake Saixin's strange behavior. First puzzled, then realization hit: the guy was canceling some kind of impersonation ability.
Under Moro's gaze, Nen surged and swirled around the impostor.
In just a second or two, his appearance and build changed completely.
What stood there now was a shirtless, bald man in boxer shorts, a full size smaller than Saixin, his body riddled with holes of all sizes.
Moro's pupils contracted.
The Phantom Troupe's…
Bonolenov?