The mountain road twisted like a snake.
Moro had walked for about an hour without seeing another soul.
He glanced at the sky. Two or three hours until sunset.
Time was manageable, but he'd prefer to be out of this uncharted wilderness before dark.
In the Hunter × Hunter world, undeveloped areas were full of things that could kill you without even trying.
Most of those things had fur, fangs, or poison.
Since transmigrating, Moro had buried himself in human cities full of opportunities. He'd never once gone deep into the wild.
He hadn't even visited a developed nature park.
But that didn't mean he lacked respect for it.
After a short rest, he continued downhill, planning as he walked.
First: identity.
The moment he was thrown in that cage truck, he'd been legally declared dead.
All records of him had vanished with a fake death certificate.
Last time, Morena handled the new ID. This time he had to do it himself.
Shouldn't be too hard.
After half a year in Yorknew, he knew money solved almost everything.
"600,000 jenny… hope that's enough."
It wasn't much, but for a guy starting from zero, it was lifeblood.
Even if it wasn't enough for a clean ID, he could use it as seed money and flip it fast.
He patted the bulging pocket and looked far into the distance. Thin trails of cooking smoke were just visible.
Identity first. High-speed transport like airships required it.
Time was literally life right now.
No second could be wasted.
Once identity was settled, two destinations.
Heavens Arena. Prize money + real combat experience.
On the climb to Floor Master, he'd run into plenty of scumbags trying to farm wins off rookies.
Most of them were Nen-using lowlifes with zero morals.
He wouldn't hold back.
One Nen user = one level. Extremely valuable.
Yorknew City.
He knew the place like the back of his hand.
With startup cash, he could turn profit fast and solve money problems.
More importantly, he could buy antiques and handicrafts wrapped in residual Nen to test whether the Annual Rings could still absorb energy.
But even if they could, the process was slow. His real focus would be leveling.
Two paths.
No matter which he took, the final stop was the same:
Kill Feitan within one year.
He weighed them, unable to decide immediately, then remembered something critical.
Information network.
To kill Feitan, he first had to find him.
According to the original timeline, the early Phantom Troupe went on a rampage to build reputation.
Shocking crimes, mountains of bodies. They became infamous A-class criminals overnight.
Their origin—Meteor City—became known, and fear of the Troupe bled into fear of the city itself.
That was part of Chrollo's goal: make the world afraid of the Troupe, and by extension, protect Meteor City with that terror.
But there was another mission they never abandoned:
Avenge Sarasa.
Six years ago, under Chrollo's lead, they finally hunted down and slaughtered the ones who killed her.
After that, the Troupe calmed down.
Fewer crimes. Fewer gatherings. Years passed without the whole group assembling once.
Members scattered like stones dropped in the ocean.
Hard to track.
Without an information network, even if Moro became strong enough, he might never locate a lone Feitan.
The rainy night of his death flashed again.
Why had the Troupe come after him?
He still didn't know.
Now that he'd changed paths, he couldn't be sure they'd even show up in Yorknew a year from now.
He'd keep that "future intel" as a backup.
If possible, he wanted a clean 1v1 with Feitan.
So an information network was non-negotiable.
And information in the Hunter world was obscenely expensive.
"Yorknew it is."
Realizing how crucial intel was, Moro made his choice.
He'd pick treasures with future knowledge, stack cash fast.
He'd heard plenty of stories last time—who scored a massive bargain, who set up a collector and walked away with a legendary piece.
He could snipe those deals before they happened.
Make billions for intel channels, and test the Annual Rings at the same time.
Half a month later.
Yorknew City, Lower Street, Rat Alley.
The narrow, damp alley stank despite the lack of trash.
Deep into the night, only a few yellow bulbs gave any light.
Moro stood at a T-junction, carrying a briefcase.
Tap, tap.
Footsteps from the darkness.
A man in a full-face mask and heavy clothing emerged, eyes darting like a thief.
When he spotted Moro, his wary gaze flicked to the briefcase, then he approached slowly.
Stopping in front of Moro, the masked man unslung a long object wrapped in black cloth and held it out.
"You can inspect, but money first."
His voice was hoarse. After a pause: "You've got one minute."
"Deal."
Moro tossed the briefcase at the man's feet, took the wrapped object, and peeled the cloth away.
A red-and-white katana, Nen smoke curling gently from the blade.
Seeing the aura drifting off it like mist, Moro nodded in satisfaction.
He'd arrived in Yorknew a week ago.
Getting a new ID turned out to be more troublesome than expected.
So he shelved it temporarily and hit the flea markets instead.
In less than seven days, he'd turned his seed money into over twenty million jenny.
Instead of buying an ID, he tracked down this masked seller and bought the insanely expensive—but very much hot—katana.
If he flipped it smoothly…
He'd be looking at ten or twenty billion jenny overnight.