That guy Hisoka...
How should I put it? He's truly reliable.
Of course, the prerequisite for his reliability is...
You must dangle a carrot in front of him that can stir his interest.
As long as the carrot is enticing enough, there's no need to worry about whether he'll take action.
He doesn't even need anyone to urge him; he'll run faster and work harder than anyone else on his own.
Truly a model employee in the workforce, an anomaly among beasts of burden.
Morrow lowered his head, flipping through the intel about Franklin on his phone. Hisoka's perverted grin flashed through his mind, followed by the memory of rejecting his loan request last time. A faint sense of guilt unexpectedly surfaced.
Mainly because Hisoka was just too useful.
It made Morrow feel like some kind of evil capitalist at this stage.
Shaking his head slightly, Morrow banished the image of Hisoka from his thoughts and refocused on the intel.
Within the Phantom Troupe, aside from Hisoka, who operated alone, the other members moved in teams, either in pairs or trios...
Franklin was part of a duo, and his partner happened to be someone Morrow was "familiar" with.
Morrow's gaze landed on the name in the text—
Bonolenov.
Compared to Franklin, whose abilities were already out in the open, Bonolenov's shapeshifting ability still held some unknowns.
After reviewing the intel provided by Hisoka, Morrow immediately had Kalluto begin preparing a living paper doll targeting Franklin.
Once the living paper doll was completed, they could move into action right away.
However, as a precaution, even if Morrow could precisely pinpoint Franklin's location and movements, he wouldn't recklessly launch an attack.
Before making a move, he would observe for a bit.
It wasn't that he doubted the intel Hisoka provided, rather, he needed to guard against the Phantom Troupe's tactic of pairing overt actions with covert ones.
If Franklin and Bonolenov's movements were too conspicuous, extra caution would be warranted...
This kind of preemptive thinking might end up as overthinking, but Morrow believed it was necessary.
After all he'd been through, he had long grown accustomed to this approach.
And this approach had always proven valuable in battle.
Several days later.
Morrow, Kalluto, and Kurapika left Heavens Arena and boarded an airship heading west.
The living paper doll could only point in a general direction.
Only by closing the distance would the precision of the tracking improve.
So until they entered a certain range, they could only follow the indicated path.
Eventually—
After five days of travel, Morrow's group arrived at the border of the Kukan'yu Kingdom.
Setting foot on this land once more, Morrow glanced at the distant immigration checkpoint.
It was close to Prite Town, a place he had visited before.
That town, adjacent to the border, was known for its chaotic public order.
Last August, it was there that he had met Kanzai and later encountered that kind-hearted Virus Hunter during their retaliatory strike against the Fingers organization.
Thinking of Sanbica, Morrow suddenly realized he hadn't been in contact with her for a long time. He wondered how she was doing these days.
Shaking off his thoughts, Morrow walked toward the distant immigration checkpoint with Kurapika and Kalluto.
Thanks to the convenience of Kurapika's Hunter License, they passed through immigration smoothly without any delays. After crossing the border, Morrow directly purchased a car from a nearby driver-for-hire and sped off in the direction indicated by the living paper doll.
The route happened to be the road leading to the town of Prite.
However, judging by the intensity of the living paper doll's reaction, Franklin was still a considerable distance away, certainly not within Prite itself.
Morrow decided to make a brief stop in Prite to rest, taking Kurapika and Kalluto to the noodle shop that had left a deep impression on him.
On the way to Prite, they unexpectedly passed by the village where Sanbica had once provided medical aid.
Morrow didn't stop, merely glancing through the car window at the cluster of houses.
What he saw was ruin and silence.
The village was dead.
Slowly withdrawing his gaze, Morrow felt a complex mix of emotions.
In these lawless borderlands, the birth and death of a village were as inconsequential as roadside grass crushed beneath wheels, hardly worth anyone's notice.
As he watched the bumpy road ahead, Morrow reflected that only a year had passed since last year, yet for some people and things, it felt like an eternity.
After roughly ten kilometers of jolting along the uneven road, they finally entered Prite and parked near the noodle shop called Red Dan.
Morrow turned off the engine and stepped out, his shoes crunching lightly on the rough ground.
Kurapika and Kalluto followed suit.
"That noodle shop is really good," Morrow said, pointing at the building constructed from red-veined wood and gray-white bricks, a hint of nostalgia flashing in his eyes. "Even now, I can still remember the taste clearly."
Turning to the two beside him, he added, "Let's grab a bite first before continuing our journey."
"Mm," Kurapika nodded.
Meanwhile, Kalluto was already curiously examining the buildings lining the street, struck by how similar the architectural style was to Bright Pearl City—red wood and gray tiles.
Morrow strode straight toward the noodle shop, with Kurapika and Kalluto trailing behind.
They had barely walked a dozen meters when several burly, rough-looking men emerged from the shadows of nearby buildings, subtly closing in on them.
The men eyed Morrow's group with brazen greed, their gazes as blatant as if appraising goods for sale, not even bothering to conceal their intentions.
Most of their attention, however, lingered on Kalluto's doll-like delicate face.
Kalluto immediately sensed their malice, something he was long accustomed to. His right hand rested on the fan tucked into his obi, but he didn't act yet, instead glancing at Morrow for confirmation.
Morrow gave a slight nod.
In one fluid motion, Kalluto drew his purple bamboo fan and slashed at the men.
Sshhk—!
A cold gleam flashed, and before the men could react, their bodies, heads included, split into seven or eight pieces, scattering across the street.
The gruesome sight was witnessed by many hidden eyes in the vicinity.
In an instant, those watching silently retreated, their hostility extinguished.
Kurapika glanced at the scattered remains, then at Kalluto's impassive face, momentarily reminded of their first meeting in Yorknew.
"Uncomfortable?" Morrow's voice pulled Kurapika back to reality. Kurapika only then realized his fingers were unconsciously stroking the chains. He took a deep breath and shook his head: "No, I just thought it was too..."
His voice gradually faded until nothing was said.
Kalluto tilted his head at this, the ribs of his fan lightly touching his chin as he pressed, "Too what?"
The childlike innocence in his tone formed a bizarre contrast with the bloodbath around them.
Meeting Kalluto's questioning gaze, Kurapika's lips twitched slightly as he replied, "Brutal."
In his view, Kalluto could have easily killed with a single strike instead of slicing the bodies into seven or eight pieces.
"Pfft."
Hearing this, Kalluto raised his fan to cover his laughing mouth, no longer looking at Kurapika but turning to Morrow instead.
"Morrow, did I do wrong?"
Though phrased as a question, Kalluto already knew the answer Morrow would give.
This was purely for Kurapika's benefit.
Morrow said, "You did well."
"Mhm."
Kalluto smiled happily, then glanced sideways at Kurapika with his deep purple eyes, as if taunting him.
Kurapika froze, hesitating to speak.
Morrow observed Kurapika's reaction but offered no explanation, simply stepping around the dismembered corpses as he headed toward the noodle shop.
A short while later.
The three entered the noodle shop and ordered three bowls of their signature soup noodles.
When the noodles arrived, Morrow and Kalluto picked up their chopsticks, while Kurapika clearly had little appetite.
Morrow paid no mind to Kurapika, first sipping the broth before taking a bite of noodles, exhaling contentedly.
With his current mindset, the noodles tasted even more delicious than before.
Being able to savor the moment with complete freedom truly was the best seasoning in the world.
"This place has no semblance of law and order. Criminal activity is practically routine."
Morrow lifted his bowl to drink a large mouthful of broth before speaking abruptly.
These words were clearly meant for Kurapika.
Kurapika couldn't help but look at Morrow.
Morrow met his gaze and said plainly, "I don't need to explain what those men earlier were planning. You could tell just by looking."
Kurapika remained silent, only subconsciously glancing at Kalluto, who was focused on eating his noodles.
The men's intentions had been obvious. They'd targeted Kalluto specifically.
Noting Kurapika's reaction, Morrow added, "They might not have been professional traffickers. Maybe they just saw how pretty Kalluto was and decided on the spot to make some quick money off him."
"..."
Kurapika stayed silent.
Kalluto continued eating, though the corners of his eyes crinkled slightly.
Morrow stirred the oil bubbles on his broth with his chopsticks and went on, "In just that short time, dozens of others were probably thinking the same thing. What Kalluto did will make those rats think twice before crawling out of their gutters again."
"Mhm."
Kurapika lowered his eyes in acknowledgment.
Seeing this, Morrow left it at that.
The most striking feature of the Kukan'yu Kingdom was its ancient charm, so distinct from modern cities.
From towering palaces to orderly redwood structures, many famous cities—including the capital—perfectly preserved the unique style of classical architecture.
This was perhaps a cultural phenomenon unique to monarchies. Yet, the main melody of this world remains firmly rooted in modernity.
Even in a tradition-revering kingdom like Kukan'yu, some cities within its vast territory have already begun to transform.
A city named Zhongyang stood as a testament to this change, its skyline dominated by towering skyscrapers, with only a handful of ancient structures preserved.
The development of this city seemed to mirror the future direction of Kukan'yu itself.
Franklin and Bonolenov arrived here.
They made no effort to disguise themselves, sitting casually on the benches of an artificial lake's viewing platform like ordinary tourists, utterly indifferent to the bounties on their heads.
This was simply the Phantom Troupe's way of doing things.
But it was precisely this approach that gave them opportunities to hone their strength.
So when faced with those who came seeking revenge or merely for the reward, they never turned them away.
If they lost, it meant their abilities were lacking; death was no one's fault but their own.
The essence of the world was survival of the fittest.
If they won,
they would tread over the corpses and grow even stronger, ensuring they could go further and seize what they desired.
"Too slow."
Bonolenov tapped the table lightly with his red-gloved hand.
The two had come here to leverage the local underworld and establish an intelligence network.
Right now, they were waiting for the second-in-command of a prominent mafia family.
Before this formal meeting, they had already gathered some background on the organization.
On the surface, it was a sprawling underground syndicate, but its true master was a prince of the Kukan'yu royal family.
This hidden power structure bore some resemblance to the Kakin Empire's model, where the mafia served as the royal family's enforcers, yet there were subtle differences.
"It's not yet the agreed time. We arrived early."
Franklin's thick fingers picked up a delicate pastry and casually popped it into his mouth.
Crumbs clung to the stitched corners of his lips before being brushed away absentmindedly.
Bonolenov finally stopped tapping the table, a muffled grunt escaping from between his bandages. "Then why did we come ahead of schedule?"
"Why does there always have to be a reason?"
Unlike Bonolenov's faint impatience, Franklin's heavily stitched face remained unshakably composed.
Even the act of swallowing his snack carried a mechanical, rhythmic steadiness.
It was as if even the most basic bodily functions adhered to an ingrained sense of stability, much like his towering, bear-like frame.
Bonolenov leaned back in his chair, gazing at the distant shimmer of the lake before suddenly speaking. "The Boss went to Jappon recently. Any progress?"
"Hard to say."
Franklin's hand, reaching for another pastry, paused mid-air. His voice was calm. "That ability of his is practical, but it demands a lot of time and effort, and even then, there's no guarantee of results."
"But if the Boss succeeds, we won't have to keep floundering around like headless flies."
A note of urgency seeped into Bonolenov's tone.
The entire group had spent so much time searching, and while they had managed to recruit one new member, finding another intelligence expert like Shalnark was proving difficult.
More importantly, their investigation into the "perpetrator" had yet to yield any clear leads.
For now, their only hope lay in the Boss making headway. Franklin suddenly turned his head and glanced at a young man in the distance wearing a burgundy suit with a badge pinned to his chest, likely the second-in-command of the local mafia family they were meeting.
Then, he shifted his gaze back to Bonolenov.
"The boss made a 'clear-headed' choice to go to Jappon because there's a profession rumored to have the ability to communicate with the dead… Maybe we'll find something there."