Visitors

Cheadle stared coldly at Hawk, her gaze as if it could slice him into a thousand pieces.

This reaction wasn't just because Hawk had struck a nerve, but also because he'd made light of her "Zodiac" title.

That was something she could not tolerate.

Seeing Cheadle finally look his way, Hawk breathed a sigh of relief.

Compared to saving his life, a few dagger-like glares from her were nothing.

"Well..."

Hawk forced a faint smile at Cheadle, intending to seriously mention the importance of stopping the bleeding first.

But the moment he opened his mouth, Cheadle's icy voice cut him off: "Take your hand away. I'll stop the bleeding first."

"Alright!"

Hawk, hearing this, promptly moved his right hand aside, revealing the bloody, gruesome wound on his abdomen.

Cheadle half-crouched, then removed the white glove from her right hand and gently placed her palm over Hawk's wound.

"Hatsu."

Her pale, slender hand suddenly emitted a soft, hazy emerald-green glow of Nen, visibly swirling around Hawk's wound.

Under the influence of this Nen, the bleeding from Hawk's wound was clearly suppressed, and after a moment, it stopped flowing entirely.

This was the nature of an Enhancer's ability—using "aura" as a medium to invade the target's body, temporarily enhancing the target's "hemostasis" function.

It was through this method that Cheadle quickly stopped Hawk's bleeding.

Of course, if she could enhance "hemostasis," she could also enhance "self-healing."

If she had applied the ability with "self-healing" as the goal, Hawk's wound would not only have stopped bleeding but would also have healed faster.

Cheadle didn't do that, simply because she wasn't an Enhancer.

Developing an ability to enhance others' "hemostasis" function, based on a non-affiliated Nen type, required time and effort that was still within her acceptable range.

As for an ability to enhance others' "self-healing," even if she had the inclination, she lacked the capability.

Leaving aside whether her current "memory capacity" and "personal talent" could support such an endeavor, the greatest risk was—

Pouring immense time and effort into developing a non-affiliated ability might not yield results satisfactory to herself.

That was the real issue.

Simply put, the returns didn't justify the investment.

"I feel alive again..."

After the bleeding stopped, Hawk felt much more at ease.

Cheadle ignored him, taking out a trauma ointment she carried and smearing it forcefully over Hawk's wound.

"Sss—"

Hawk sucked in a sharp breath.

This was definitely payback!

He thought about asking Cheadle to apply it more gently, but ultimately held back.

Hawk knew that if he said anything, it would likely only make Cheadle double down.

After a moment, the emergency treatment was done.

Cheadle walked to the stream to wash the blood off her hands.

Hawk recovered and looked up at Cheadle's back.

"Cheadle, even though the path you've chosen is as a 'Rare Disease' Hunter, there's no need to waste your talent on other Nen types. If I'm not mistaken, you've probably developed more than one non-affiliated ability by now..."

Hearing Hawk's words, Cheadle abruptly stopped scrubbing her hands in the stream and turned back to shoot him a sharp glare.

"A grave-robbing scoundrel like you, who applies Nen talent to 'tomb raiding,' has no right to lecture me!"

"..."

Hawk opened his mouth, then finally lowered his head in silence.

In the shadows where moonlight couldn't reach, a flicker of gloom passed through his eyes.

The sudden silence made the bridge hollow much quieter, and the sound of Cheadle vigorously scrubbing her hands became especially noticeable.

Washing off the last trace of blood, Cheadle slowly stood up and asked expressionlessly, "Who injured you?"

"Who else could it be?"

Hawk jerked his head up, a murderous glint flashing in his eyes.

Seeing Hawk's reaction, Cheadle had her answer in an instant. Frowning, she said in a low voice, "Those who claim to be the inheritors of the 'Old Qinglin Squad's' will again? So, they found you?"

The so-called Qinglin Squad was a legendary Hunter team established in the past, following the will of the former Hunter Association president.

But times had changed. Now, the Hunter Association's president was Netero, and while some remnants of the Old Qinglin Squad's influence still lingered within the Association, they could barely make a splash anymore.

"No."

Hawk shook his head, his eyes narrowing slightly. "To be precise, I sought them out myself."

"!!!"

Cheadle's pupils contracted at this, her voice rising involuntarily. "Have you lost your mind!!! In this state, you still dared to go looking for them!!! If you expose your trail, the first one to bear the brunt will be Moyu!!!"

"Relax, I'm not reckless enough to act without any preparation, and there's no way I'd gamble with Moyu's safety."

Hawk reined in his killing intent slightly, his body slumping heavily against the wall.

Cheadle stepped forward twice, staring at him coldly. "You're always so self-righteous, forgetting how I used to... hmph. Why did you go looking for those bastards? Do you know how much effort I put in back then to clean up your trail? Even after Moyu was born, I could only pretend not to care..."

"If it weren't for the circumstances forcing my hand, do you think—"

Hawk met Cheadle's furious eyes, speaking each word deliberately. "Do you think someone like me, who developed a Nen ability like Rat's Way, would actively seek out trouble?"

"..."

Cheadle fell silent.

Indeed...

If not forced by circumstance, Hawk—whose motto had always been "avoid battle whenever possible"—would never have taken the initiative to strike or seek out trouble while already hidden.

Realizing this, Cheadle quickly calmed down and asked, "What's the reason?"

"Because... time is running out. I need a new post-mortem object to suppress the Price. If necessary, I don't mind using my lifespan as fuel."

Hawk tilted his head back, and when discussing serious matters, there was none of the usual frivolity about him.

"Hawk, you..."

Cheadle seemed to understand something, her eyes slowly widening.

Hawk's mouth twitched slightly, his voice low. "I don't need to say it for you to guess, do I? I struck out on my own to steal one of the scores of the Dark Sonata from those bastards, but I failed... Ha, without Rat Treasure's help, I really am a useless waste."

"..."

Cheadle pressed her lips together, saying nothing.

She knew the situation had become so dire that Hawk had even needed to leave Rat Treasure at the Temple to help suppress that "post-mortem object."

But now, Hawk's willingness to risk everything to steal a new "post-mortem object" made her realize the situation was even more serious than she'd anticipated.

Hawk slowly straightened his gaze, turning his head to look at the deep night beyond the bridge's arch.

"The thing I'm most proud of in this life is being able to freely pass through any ruin or tomb. But the thing I regret most is also this..."

This man's eyes were filled with determination, leaving room for nothing else.

"Cheadle, I don't want to repeat the same mistakes..."

"If you really think that way, you shouldn't have acted on your own, Hawk... Your actions have once again put your loved ones in danger."

Cheadle pulled on her white gloves, speaking coldly. "In any case, I don't trust your ability to clean up after yourself. So I'm going to find Moyu now, to avoid any unexpected complications."

"No, you have to wait for me to recover... Two days, no, one day is enough!"

Hawk pressed his back against the wall, struggling to stand.

Cheadle glanced at him and snorted. "In your current state, you can't even activate Zetsu. Even if I gave you three days, you wouldn't recover normal mobility, let alone heal your injuries."

With that, ignoring Hawk's reaction, she turned and left the bridge arch.

In the deep night, ripples seemed to stir.

The mountain-top Temple.

The surroundings were as quiet as ever, not even the chirping of insects could be heard.

Moyu sat in front of the computer, the white light from the screen reflected in his eyes.

"The search engine is way too outdated."

Moving the mouse and clicking around, Moyu let out a slight sigh. His peripheral vision caught the date and time in the bottom-right corner of the desktop—

April 25, 1993, 23:22.

If Moyu remembered correctly, the original story's timeline began in 1999.

Although it was several years off from the original timeline now, electronic devices like computers and phones were already widespread at this point.

Especially the development of mobile phones—it was a blooming garden of variety.

There were phones with flashy but impractical features, and practical ones focused on functionality.

The most representative feature was the ability to receive signals in almost any part of the world.

Because of this, practical phones were highly favored by Hunters.

But for some reason, compared to phones, the development of computers seemed a bit lagging behind.

Maybe it was because Hunters relied more on phones than computers...

"Still can't find it."

Moyu let go of the mouse.

He searched for the mailing address of the famous actress Eritin Nako, but hindered by the outdated search engine, he found nothing.

"Forget it, I'll deal with it later."

Moyu shut down the computer, picked up a photograph wrapped in strands of black aura lying beside the keyboard, then rose and left the room, heading toward the main hall.

Arriving at the offering table in the main hall, Moyu casually placed the photo—infused with "resentment"—back in its original spot, then turned and left.

Over this period of time—

Moyu's "Nen ability" had gradually grown stronger through training.

Perhaps because of this, he had become increasingly sensitive to the presence of "resentment."

Before, as long as he didn't enter the main hall, he could basically subconsciously ignore the pile of relics on the offering table.

Now, even just standing in the courtyard to train, his senses would constantly remind him of the "resentment" lingering inside the main hall.

So he thought he'd spend some time fulfilling these "unfinished wishes" on the offering table, thereby sublimating the "resentment" attached to them.

Of course, he could also discard or destroy these resentment-laden objects, but his subconscious told him not to.

Returning to his room, Moyu turned off the light and got into bed.

The next morning.

Moyu woke up on time and began his daily training.

"Thump, thump-thump—"

Just as he started, a knock came from the front door.

Moyu was slightly startled; his first thought was that Hawk had returned, but he dismissed it the next second.

If it were Hawk, he wouldn't just knock—he'd be shouting and yelling.

"At this hour... could it be Monica?"

Moyu crossed the courtyard, arrived at the front door, and asked toward the worn wooden door, "Who is it?"

If it were a pilgrim or a tourist, he would drive them away with the excuse that the temple was temporarily closed.

"I'm a friend of Hawk's."

A woman's voice immediately came from outside.

A friend of Hawk's?

Moyu was a little surprised, removed the door bolt, and slowly opened the rickety-looking wooden door.

At the front gate.

Cheadle stood there.

She looked at the face gradually revealed from within the open wooden door, and for a moment, she was lost in thought.