NenMaster
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Chapter 120
🕑 Added 2024-12-19 16:00:05 +0000 UTCMorin didn’t say much more.
“Originally, I thought that after Uvogin finished sparring with you, I’d challenge you myself to see how I measure up. But now…” Nobunaga sighed with a touch of melancholy. “It seems my training is far from enough. Maybe in a few years?”
Or perhaps, a few years from now, the gap between Morin and us will only grow wider!
This thought silently echoed in the minds of both Nobunaga and Uvogin.
“Alright, you’re done fighting, aren’t you?”
Machi approached, noticing Uvogin had no injuries that required stitching.
She felt a pang of regret for losing the chance to earn some extra cash and quickly turned her attention away from Uvogin. Instead, she gave an impatient look and said, “If you’re done, then it’s my turn to bring up my business.”
She reached into her pocket and pulled out a handful of receipts.
“I was planning to head back to the Sky Arena after this group mission and cash in these casino vouchers.”
“You still want to go back?!”
Uvogin and Nobunaga gave her a look that screamed, “You’re fearless, aren’t you?!”
“I assume they’ve already told you what happened last time at the Sky Arena?”
Machi ignored the two and said, “I shouldn’t need to repeat it, should I?”
No way she was leaving that much money behind!
She turned her gaze to Morin.
“No need, they’ve already told me.”
Morin immediately understood her underlying message.
“So, you need me to lend you some tools that will ensure you can safely collect your money from the casino and make it out successfully?”
“Exactly.”
Morin’s keen understanding softened Machi’s expression for a moment.
But as she remembered Morin’s earlier teasing, she unconsciously touched her lips.
“Here, use this.”
Morin handed Machi a stack of five-pointed stars.
“These are Blind Spot Stars. When you wear one, you’ll enter a blind spot in others’ vision, making your presence unnoticeable.”
“With this, you can move in and out with ease.”
“But what if they check the surveillance footage and identify me?” Machi asked.
“Just bring a few changes of clothes and cover yourself up to avoid being recognized.”
“Got it.”
Machi thought for a moment and, seeing no real issues, accepted the stack of Blind Spot Stars from Morin.
“Remember, each star lasts only an hour. When the time’s up, replace it with a new one.”
With that, Morin looked up at the three people in front of him—those he had met first and knew best in this world.
“Well then, everyone…”
He waved his hand. “Until next time.”
Morin smiled warmly, sending them off with a parting blessing.
As the figures of Machi, Uvogin, and Nobunaga disappeared over the horizon, Morin let out a long breath.
“They’re gone now. You might as well come out—you must be tired from watching for so long.”
His eyelids lowered slightly. “I thought you’d already left earlier, but it seems you doubled back.”
“My dear leader.”
As soon as Morin finished speaking, a strange curtain materialized out of thin air beside him.
“When did you notice me?”
Chrollo, now fully visible, held Bandit’s Secret in his hands. His smile showed no sign of embarrassment at being caught.
“I noticed when you approached,” Morin replied, pointing to the curtain emanating an aura of Nen. “This must be a Conjuration ability, right? Something you created?”
“Technically speaking, it’s also a type of prop.”
“I almost forgot—you’re an expert in this field.”
Morin chuckled but didn’t elaborate further.
Should he tell Chrollo that he’d been suspicious since Chrollo handed him the crown and his gaze seemed slightly off?
Chrollo smiled as he closed his book.
The curtain vanished along with his Nen.
“Chameleon Curtain. It’s a Conjuration ability I stole. It allows complete concealment within the environment, but the limitation is that the user must stay in a state of Zetsu while using it.”
“That’s why, during your fight with Uvogin, I stayed far away—I didn’t want a stray rock taking me out.”
Chrollo joked as he once again scrutinized Morin, a tinge of admiration in his voice.
“Three years have passed, and the gap between you and us has only widened.”
“Uvogin wasn’t wrong—I’m no match for you now.”
“Watching your fight made me realize just how far I am from the world’s top Nen users.”
Chrollo pressed a hand to his forehead and evaluated himself:
“Not just in basic Nen strength or aura capacity, but also in combat techniques, environmental adaptability, and response skills…”
“Except for combat experience, which I couldn’t quite discern, you surpass me in every way.”
“And let’s not even talk about abilities. Your offensive talents and prop-related powers are leagues above my Bandit’s Secret.”
“I’m genuinely curious about you, Morin!”
Chrollo’s question came from the heart: “Sometimes, I feel like you’re not even from the same world as us.”
The ever-clearheaded Chrollo took out two cigarettes, offering one to Morin.
“Care to talk?”
He smiled. “These are ordinary cigarettes—no added tricks.”
“You know already?”
Morin took the cigarette, casually asking as he accepted.
“After losing track of my target, I went to Nobunaga and used the spy device you gave him to observe the palace. I saw a few things.” Chrollo admitted openly.
“You seem to have quite the aversion to addictive substances.”
He lit Morin’s cigarette, then his own. As he savored the nicotine’s rush, Chrollo asked with half-closed eyes: “Mind if I ask a blunt question?”
“We’re all part of the same group—go ahead.” Morin took a deep drag, relishing the long-lost taste of nicotine.
“Were you abandoned by your country too?”
Chrollo continued. “In Meteor City, you’re either born there or abandoned there as a child.”
“I, Feitan, Nobunaga, and Bonolenov were all discarded.”
He spoke plainly about his origins in Meteor City.
“Actually, surnames are a good indicator.”
Chrollo’s surname was Lucilfer, Nobunaga’s was Zahanma, and Feitan’s full name was Feitan Portor—not to be confused with Zhou Botong.
As for Bonolenov, he was from the Kakin Kingdom’s minority Gyudondondo tribe.
“Based on your habits, speech, and even things like the Mahjong set you brought out or the food you conjured with the Gourmet Tablecloth—your influences are distinctly different from the mainstream.”
“I suspect you come from a deeply rooted ancient nation.”
“And unlike Feitan, who severed ties with his homeland, harboring hatred, you seem to have fond memories of your country.”
“Judging by your reaction to drugs in the palace and your response to the eight-nation invasion plan…”
Chrollo paused before continuing:
“Your nation was likely ravaged by drugs, invaded by other countries, and destroyed—leaving you as a stateless refugee.”
“Someone with your pride wouldn’t settle as another nation’s citizen, so you ended up in Meteor City, unaccepted by the world.”
“That’s why I, having grown up in Meteor City, never heard of you before.”
“You must carry a heavier burden than I imagined.”
“Of course, if I’m wrong, please forgive me and pretend I said nothing.”
At the end, he gave Morin a slight bow to express his apology.
“No, you got most of it right.”
Morin exhaled a smoke ring.
In his previous life, his country had been ravaged by drugs and forced to open its doors at cannon-point, leading to one of its darkest chapters in history.
But unlike Chrollo’s guess, Morin’s country wasn’t annihilated.
Instead, it rose from the ashes of devastation, rebuilding itself and reclaiming its former glory within a century. (Blah Blah Blah)
Still…
“Even though my country still exists, I may never return.”
With a cigarette in his mouth, Morin’s tone carried a hint of melancholy.
Can’t go back, huh?
Chrollo fell silent.
To him, that was no different from losing it entirely.
“So, what are your plans for the future?”
After a while, Chrollo finally broke the silence with a question.
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