Chapter 5: Post-Mortem Nen?
It was like a movie screen going dark for a while before lighting up again... When Muser's self-awareness returned, he found he was no longer pinned to the floor by that Pale Moon Tiger. Instead, he'd somehow stood up and was standing at attention, nose pressed against the wall, as if being punished.
There was a gap in his memory... He'd been manipulated... By that brat?
But how was that possible? The brat's neck had been shot through. He should have lost consciousness quickly. In that state, he couldn't possibly have continued activating a Manipulation Type Nen Ability...
Assuming it really was the brat's doing, that meant he'd not only overcome the agony of having his neck pierced by a bullet through sheer willpower, but also successfully activated the unknown Manipulation Type ability he'd marked on Muser's left temple earlier...
He was just a five-year-old brat. How could he do something like that?
Muser had no control over his own body. He could only stand facing the wall while his mind raced.
Even if I'm going to be killed, I at least need to gather intel on this brat's Nen Ability...
Right, when this brat applied his Manipulation Type ability to my face, he also fulfilled my Manipulation Type activation condition—I touched him.
As long as I get even a tiny chance to move freely, I can attach "Rear Window Bird" to this brat...
As long as this brat shows the slightest lapse in attention...
So I must wait patiently.
Muser cleared his mind and completely calmed down. Soon, he heard a hoarse young voice from nearby: "Come here."
The boy's words meant nothing to Muser—he couldn't understand a single word.
But as the boy's words fell, the wall-facing Muser's feet smoothly pivoted right, and his body involuntarily walked steadily toward the boy—toward Ray. Meanwhile, the Pale Moon Tiger that had pinned him down earlier now stood beside the boy like a bodyguard, watching him with tiger eyes while letting out deep, warning growls.
Muser noticed that although this Pale Moon Tiger's eye was still crusted with dried blood, the wound on the side of its skull where the bullet had passed through seemed to have healed.
Even now, Muser couldn't figure out exactly why he'd lost.
He soon found himself standing before Ray, involuntarily at attention, like a puppet being controlled.
"A bit tall, aren't you?" Ray raised his hand to compare heights with Muser, still speaking in that incomprehensible language.
The next second, Muser suddenly dropped to his knees before Ray. Thud!
What a powerful Manipulation Type ability... Muser thought, his gaze sweeping over the boy's neck. Where the bullet had pierced through earlier had already healed—just like the wound on the Pale Moon Tiger's skull! Except for the blood stains that remained even after wiping, there wasn't even a trace of a scar, as if Muser had never shot him at all.
"Slap!"
Ray's palm struck Muser's cheek hard, interrupting his thoughts.
Heh, such weak strength. He's just a five-year-old brat after all... But Muser wasn't much affected, even finding it somewhat... His expression gradually changed. He couldn't laugh anymore.
Ray gathered a bit of Aura, focusing it in his tender palm, then backhanded another slap.
"SLAP!!!"
This much heavier slap sent Muser's head spinning. The other side of his face instantly swelled red, blood even seeping through the skin, with blood oozing from his mouth corner and gums too.
"Unbelievable. Is there no end to this? I transmigrated for no reason whatsoever—first chased by wolves, then scared by a tiger, and finally nearly executed by you, appearing from god knows where! Is my life supposed to be this hard?" Ray shook his stinging hand and complained in Mandarin. "Is there no justice? No law? I'm still a child! I was just trying to stay alive. What did I do wrong?"
Getting more worked up as he spoke, Ray threw in several more vicious kicks.
He unceremoniously pulled open Muser's black suit and rummaged around, finding a bunch of odds and ends: pistol, wallet, phone...
The pistol was out of ammo, and Ray didn't know how to use it anyway, so he tossed it aside.
Opening the wallet, he found quite a bit of paper money and coins, plus business cards with various different identities—the photo was Muser, but the names were all different... Ray couldn't help but look up at Muser, who'd just taken a mouthful of slaps, and quipped: "Who would've guessed? Looking all honest and straightforward, but you've got quite the collection of aliases!"
Unable to understand Ray's language, Muser remained silent, continuing to kneel involuntarily before him.
Finally, Ray pulled a card from Muser's inner suit pocket.
Just by touch, he had a feeling he'd found something good.
Glancing at it in the moonlight, Ray immediately flicked the card happily: "Well well, a Hunter License? Didn't expect a bonus prize. Fine, your filial offering—your daddy here accepts it. Feeling generous, I'll reward you with a few more slaps! Haha."
Slap! Slap! Slap! Slap!...
Ray swung his tender palm in a barrage of slaps, hitting until even his own hand hurt like hell. Still feeling unsatisfied, he gave this guy a few hard kicks.
Damn it, minding his own business, having one life-threatening disaster after another come knocking. If Ray didn't work out some frustration on this guy, his mind wouldn't be at peace.
After venting, he'd thoroughly beaten this Black Suit—though without actually causing major external injuries. First, Ray's little arms and legs really did have limited damage output; second, if Ray seriously injured him, the "Star Mark" on his left temple would trigger its passive healing, which would be voluntarily leaking intel to the enemy. Ray wasn't about to do that.
Ray plopped down on the floor. "I'm exhausted. Tiger bro, your turn."
He waved his hand, then seemed to stop paying attention to Muser's fate, playing with the most precious of his spoils—the Hunter License.
"Roar..."
The Pale Moon Tiger stepped forward at these words. One eye was covered in dried blood scabs, staining half its face. Combined with its striped pattern—listed as one of the seven great beauties of the world—it looked both ferocious and hauntingly beautiful.
Muser couldn't help but swallow.
He wasn't afraid of death, but dying so fruitlessly was meaningless—especially before completing his final mission for the prince...
The Pale Moon Tiger's bloody maw opened, descending toward the head of Muser, who knelt motionless, unable to dodge.
"The owner of this Hunter License isn't you, is it?"
Behind the Pale Moon Tiger, the boy's question this time was in the world's common language that Muser could understand!
Cold sweat beaded on Muser's forehead. He looked up at the threatening bloody maw, thought for a moment, and decided to show some willingness to cooperate: "How did you know?"
Ray grabbed the nearby phone and hurled it at Muser's face.
"Right now I'm asking you, not the other way around." Ray stared coldly at Muser. Probably because language and literacy had become internalized as bodily instincts for Muser, after "Ray-Wolf" successfully activated Star Mark and took control, Ray had naturally gained mastery of the Hunter World's basic writing and language. Communication was no longer an issue.
Earlier, after that distant gunshot rang out in the night, a familiar strange aura had drilled into his heart... Ray had already reached a preliminary conclusion: whenever a living creature died nearby, strange aura would drill into his heart. This hot-yet-cold strange aura was the culprit behind his heart pain.
In other words, the man before him had killed someone before coming here.
Either this man was a licensed Hunter, or the one he killed was. One or the other—Ray guessed the latter first, nothing more. But he had no interest in explaining anything to an enemy.
Just then, the Pale Moon Tiger strolled over and picked up the thrown phone in its mouth.
Ray was speechless. Are you a cat or a dog?
A thought struck him. He didn't know if the Hunter World had positioning satellites, but better safe than sorry... He took the phone, pried off the back cover, and removed everything removable—battery, SIM card, memory card—then threw them all out the cabin window into the dark sea.
"The license is mine. You can take it," Muser said while kneeling. "Who exactly are you? Where's that woman's son?"
"What kind of talk is that? Like I wouldn't take it if it weren't yours?" Ray asked expressionlessly. "Who's that woman, and who's her son?"
"That son is you." Muser took a risk saying this, but saw no unusual reaction on Ray's face.
Did I guess wrong? Muser remained composed, continuing to examine Ray's clothes: pants loose and baggy, held up only by a rope tied around the waist, pant legs rolled up high, the short-sleeved shirt equally ill-fitting—short sleeves practically becoming long sleeves... This was clearly a makeshift outfit.
Muser said slowly: "I'm guessing that woman, in her final moments, was filled with worry and resentment that the infant in her arms would also be killed... So after her death, her corpse gave birth to a strange Nen that parasitized you, causing you to rapidly age into your current form..."
(End of Chapter)