Hunter X Hunter: I Got Stronger After I Died

A Hunter License is a truly special thing.

For its holder, it offers tremendous privileges.

With a Hunter License, one can enter 90% of restricted countries and 75% of forbidden zones.

It grants free access to 95% of public facilities and offers financial credibility comparable to top-tier corporations.

According to official sources, selling a Hunter License would yield enough money to last seven lifetimes.

Thus, for professional Hunters, protecting their Hunter License is a lifelong priority.

On the other hand, obtaining a license is far from easy.

The Hunter Association is full of stubborn, eccentric individuals.

When such people serve as exam proctors, it's no surprise that the evaluation criteria can sometimes be downright absurd.

Take Menchi, for example—she once failed every candidate in the second phase of the exam. And this wasn't even the first time something like that had happened.

In recent years, the Hunter Exam has produced zero successful applicants.

Most examinees never even make it to the final test overseen by Netero.

Ironically, the final phase—the one with Netero—actually has the highest pass rate.

But if candidates can't survive the earlier rounds, that pass rate is meaningless.

No doubt, the Hunter Exam Review Board is often left in frustration over this trend.

And yet, every ten years, there is always a sudden surge of new Hunters.

Regardless, a Hunter License remains extremely valuable.

Some wealthy collectors, despite having no need for the license, are willing to pay a fortune just to own one.

Naturally, this has led to the rise of illegal Hunter License poachers—criminals who specialize in hunting down licensed Hunters to steal their precious badge.

The two Nen users who had just blocked the alleyway were precisely that—Hunter poachers targeting Menchi's license.

However, Moro was an unexpected variable in their plans.

But to these experienced killers, an extra body simply meant one more victim—nothing more.

The stronger of the two—a muscular man with a massive cleaver strapped to his back—unsheathed his weapon, his eyes brimming with cold, murderous intent.

His bald-headed companion, who seemed to be his underling, slipped on a pair of bladed gauntlets, his expression twisted with both greed and bloodlust.

Moro gazed at the two men radiating killing intent and let out a quiet sigh.

He had overheard their unapologetic discussion earlier—he knew they were after Menchi's license and that his own death was simply an added convenience for them.

Valuable things are like black holes…

They inevitably attract trouble.

Some, like the Phantom Troupe, would steal such things.

Some, like Biscuit or Menchi, would pay for them.

And then there were people like these two, whose greed blinded them to the risks of their actions.

"A man without sin is still guilty for possessing treasure."

In the world of Hunters, this was simply a fact of life.

Having spent nearly two years in this world, Moro had already grown accustomed to such realities…

A cold gleam flickered in his eyes.

Without hesitation, he threw the Ruby Bird Knife straight at the bald-headed poacher.

A red streak of light pierced through the alleyway.

The Bird Knife, coated in Nen, raced toward its target.

The bald poacher's face stiffened. In his panic, he raised his bladed gauntlets, blocking the incoming attack.

CLANG!

The sound of steel colliding with steel echoed through the alley.

The impact sent his arms flying upward, as if struck by an electric shock.

Meanwhile, the Bird Knife flipped backward, spinning through the air toward Moro.

At the same time—

A green, diamond-shaped projectile shot past the Bird Knife in midair.

Moro had followed his initial attack with an immediate secondary strike—a Star Bullet.

The bald poacher, still off-balance, had no way to dodge.

The Star Bullet pierced through his throat, leaving a gaping hole as it whizzed past and exited the alley.

"Ugh… agh…!"

Blood gushed from the open wound.

His eyes widened in disbelief as he staggered backward and collapsed.

Meanwhile—

The muscular poacher, who had been charging straight at Moro, momentarily faltered.

But there was no time to check on his dying comrade.

Because at that very moment, the boy who had just killed his partner was now rushing straight toward him.

The muscular poacher's eyes widened, and he swung his massive cleaver down at Moro.

SWOOSH!

Moro caught the returning Bird Knife mid-air.

Then, with swift precision, he switched his grip, holding the knife in reverse and raised it overhead to meet the incoming strike.

CLANG!

The two blades collided, sending sparks flying.

But in the very next instant, Moro disengaged, sidestepping the cleaver as it came crashing down.

The ground cracked, shattered by the sheer force of the strike.

The muscular poacher smirked—thinking Moro had dodged out of desperation.

Many of his previous opponents had done exactly that—unable to withstand the sheer weight of his blows, they had no choice but to evade.

And that was always when he would follow up with a deadly counterattack.

However—

Before he could act, a mysterious force suddenly slammed into his back.

THUD!

A crater burst open in his chest, his clothes shredded by the impact.

Blood spewed from his mouth.

Shocked and confused, he barely had time to process what had happened before—

A red blur flashed before his eyes.

SLASH!

Cold steel kissed his throat.

Moro silently sheathed his knife as he walked past the dying man, heading for the alley exit.

That mystery attack had been the same Star Bullet—the one that had pierced through the bald poacher's throat.

Although its power had weakened significantly, it had maintained its shape, circling back hundreds of meters before striking the muscular poacher from behind.

That was all the opening Moro had needed.

Behind him, a heavy thud signaled the fall of the second corpse.

Moro never looked back.

Instead, he focused on the minute changes in his Nen aura.

These two had been far too weak to provide any significant experience—but at the very least, they had boosted his aura reserves slightly.

Better than nothing.

As he leveled up, true growth would likely come from accumulating experience rather than simply defeating weak opponents.

But still—

Too weak. Too weak!

Even though he gained some experience, there was no sense of satisfaction.

What he truly desired was the thrill of the edge of death—the dangerous duels that could rapidly sharpen his power.

Moro sighed.

Then, without a word, he headed toward his parked car.

Meanwhile, back in the alley—

Menchi stared blankly at the two lifeless bodies.

The image of Moro's knife slicing the poacher's throat played over and over in her mind.

So strong… so incredibly strong!

But…

That knife… it's meant for cooking, not for killing!

Clutching her remaining kitchen knife, she raced after him.

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