This place, remodeled from a tomb, served as the Menu Organization's research base for viruses.
The choice of location had nothing to do with preference or concealment.
Rather, the viruses studied within this base originated from this ancient, untraceable burial chamber, more precisely, from the corpses inside the coffins.
The man in the black suit watched Sanbica intently mixing reagents on the screen before shifting his gaze to the central monitor.
The screen displayed the interior of a coffin.
A vibrant green, pristine cloth nearly covered the entire bottom of the coffin.
Lying atop the cloth was a bizarre-looking mummy.
The left half of the mummy's body, having undergone prolonged natural dehydration, exhibited the withered, dark-brown characteristics of dried flesh.
However, the right half was entirely different.
It could hardly even be called a mummy...
The right half still retained distinct muscle tissue, with faintly visible blood vessels.
The only resemblance to a mummy was that the still-moist muscle tissue appeared to belong to an elderly person, the skin texture resembling withered tree bark.
One side was desiccated, the other showed blood vessels.
It was as if two different corpses had been stitched together.
The man in the black suit stared at the corpse on the screen, his eyes aglow with aura resembling flickering flames.
Enhanced by Gyo, he could see wisps of black smoke-like energy swirling between the corpse and the cloth, slowly drifting near the coffin's opening.
The busy researchers around him remained oblivious to the black energy within the coffin.
Yet, the viruses extracted from the corpse had them utterly enthralled.
Some phenomena defied scientific explanation but had undeniably invaded their understanding.
The man in the black suit glanced at the bustling researchers before turning to leave.
"How's progress?" he asked the subordinate trailing behind him as he walked.
The subordinate quickly replied, "The infectiousness issue with OG hasn't been resolved yet, but we're making headway. The problem is we're running low on 'lab rats' in the cocoon. Apothecarion has been demanding more live test subjects as soon as possible."
"How many does he want?"
The man in the black suit turned into a corridor on the right.
The subordinate answered, "He didn't specify a number, just said the more, the better."
"Bold of him to ask."
The man in the black suit frowned coldly. "Doesn't he know how much a single piglet sells for? Last time, he demanded twenty, and on top of that, he insisted on matching blood types. Because of that ridiculous requirement, we almost ran short on blood packs."
The subordinate lowered his head, not daring to speak.
The man in the black suit snorted. But considering the priority of the matter, no matter how resentful he felt, he had no choice but to endure it.
"Go apply for a transfer of stock now. Attach the reason. If the boss takes this seriously, he might allocate some from the 'Table'."
"Yes."
The subordinate immediately went to handle the task.
Meanwhile, the man in the black suit entered a burial chamber alone.
It could hardly be called a burial chamber anymore.
The original burial artifacts, even the items in the niches, had been completely cleared out.
In their place were piped lighting and rows of glass containers filled with liquid. Pale green liquid contained various tissues and organs from a human body.
—--
Nightfall.
In Shanni Village, inside a house built of mud and tiles, the walls were bare with only basic furniture like a bed and table.
On the bed against the wall lay a boy around eight or nine years old.
His face was pale, eyes tightly shut, breathing particularly labored, his small chest rising and falling rapidly.
Patches of dry, darkened skin were visible on his exposed limbs, as if someone had stitched on aged pieces of flesh.
Beside the bed stood a slightly older teenager, his face filled with concern as he watched the boy.
However, the teenager's right cheek and two fingers appeared drained of all cellular vitality, looking similarly withered and dark.
Across from the bed, Sanbica placed the gathered herbs into a mortar. Instead of crushing them immediately, she extended her right hand over the mortar's opening.
Drip, drip...
Blood burst through the skin of Sanbica's palm, dripping onto the herbs.
Within seconds, the wound on her palm healed automatically.
She withdrew her hand, watching as the faintly glowing blood visibly seeped into the herbs.
Her blood could enhance the efficacy of medicinal herbs and improve their neutralizing properties.
This gave her a unique advantage in crafting potions.
Thud, thud...
Sanbica picked up the pestle and began grinding the herbs in the mortar.
For now, we can only slow the virus's replication rate. This isn't enough... Lietta won't last much longer.
As she crushed the herbs, Sanbica thought to herself.
If time runs out, I'll have to risk using my ability...
Outside the mud-tile house.
Morrow leaned against the outer wall, a flicker of doubt crossing his brow.
Were they naturally this unobservant, or just too preoccupied?
He had followed them all the way from the forest, somewhat worried his Zetsu might not be refined enough to avoid detection.
Yet the other party seemed too lost in thought to notice his presence at all.
Even after trailing them into this mud-tile house, their vigilance remained alarmingly low.
Morrow even suspected that using Ten now wouldn't alert the woman inside.
She feels so weak...
Morrow mused to himself.
Since he hadn't seen her use Ren, he couldn't gauge her approximate level.
But judging by the precision of her Ten, her fundamentals were clearly solid.
Probably a non-combat type...
Among Nen users, there were always those who didn't focus their abilities on combat.
Even within the Hunter Association's Zodiac Twelve, there were non-combatants like Cheadle.
Still, this was the first time Morrow had encountered a Nen user who felt so weak in terms of sensory awareness...
—--
Pritchard Town.
As night fell, lights illuminated many parts of the town.
Places like bars and casinos were bustling with noise and activity.
This town, like a gold mine, continuously churned out profits, and naturally, places to spend them.
Hisoka walked down the street, his gaze drifting toward the taverns lining the road.
Beep beep.
His phone vibrated in his hand.
Hisoka picked it up and tapped the screen a few times.
A notification popped up, transfer successful, and his once-flush account was instantly drained.
To track Morrow's whereabouts as quickly as possible, Hisoka had bet his entire life's savings.
But Hisoka didn't care.
One year of cold war...
Hisoka narrowed his eyes slightly but wasn't in a hurry to find Morrow. Instead, he headed toward a distant casino.
The money was almost gone, so I had to save some.
Otherwise, if Morrow ran away again, I wouldn't even have the funds to chase after him by public transport.
That would be quite troublesome.
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Bonus chapter for every new review and every time the story gets 10 Power Stones.