Hunter: I became stronger even after I died.

Chapter 313 is too difficult!
The salty sea breeze swept over the cliffs, stirring up fine spray.

The slender figure stood quietly on the edge of the cliff, her short, orange hair fluttering in the sea breeze.

Moro stopped in his tracks. From this angle, he could catch a glimpse of her profile. Amidst her disheveled hair, her large brown eyes stood out.

Those were the same eye color as Xiao Jie and Jin.

Moro's gaze swept over the woman's simple local clothing, and he roughly guessed her identity.

It should be Mito, who raised Gon, and he is Gin's cousin.

Moro paused, hesitating whether to go up and say hello, or leave first and come back to the bottom of the cliff to find the God-level strategy manual after Mitt left.

Just as Morro was pondering this, Mitt turned around to leave.

She casually tucked her hair behind her ear, only to suddenly realize that someone was standing silently behind her.

"what!"

Mitt was startled and instinctively took two steps back.

Once she realized that the other person was just standing quietly in place, she patted her chest to calm her breathing.

She carefully examined the person who had appeared silently. He had heavy dark circles under his eyes, a slightly pale complexion, and a general sense of weariness about him.

"You are……?"

"Tourists visiting the island."

Moro heeded Mo Laowu's advice and had already altered his appearance using "biomutation" before coming to the whale.

He pointed to the cliff and said apologetically, "Sorry, did I scare you? I saw this cliff from the boat and thought the view would be great, so I walked all the way here..."

At this point, he gave an awkward laugh, "I'm not very good at socializing, and I was just hesitating whether or not to say hello to you."

"I'm the one who should apologize; I overreacted."

Mite shook his head slightly, a slightly apologetic smile appearing on his face, and said softly, "The scenery here is indeed very beautiful, so I won't disturb you any longer. I hope you have a good time."

After saying that, she nodded politely to Moro and then walked back along the path through the grass she had come from.

Moro didn't say anything more, but nodded in response.

As the two passed each other, a wisp of hyacinth fragrance suddenly wafted into the salty sea breeze.

It was the scent wafting from Mitt's clothes, a clean smell mixed with the scent of sun-dried cotton and laundry detergent.

Mitt walked a short distance, then suddenly stopped, turned back to look at Moro's back, and whispered a reminder: "Be careful."

"Ok."

Moro turned his back to Mitt, his earlier awkwardness completely gone.

Only after the footsteps faded into the distance did he turn around and watch Mitt's figure recede into the distance.

Even after he could no longer see Mitt, Moro did not rush to go down the cliff.

Instead, he patiently checked that no one was watching before jumping off the cliff and easily found the cave where a tree was growing.

Following Jin's instructions, Moreau dug out a pale yellow book that was completely unprotected from under the tree roots.

The book cover is blank, the spine, about two fingers thick, shows the marks of time, and it feels almost weightless in your hand.

For some unknown reason, the book had been buried in damp soil for many years, but when it was taken out of the soil, the damp soil rolled off automatically like dew on a leaf, leaving no trace.

Moro slowly opened the book cover and immediately saw that the inner pages were densely covered with black two-dimensional barcodes of various shapes.

These intricate black lines are the character for "god".

As he gently traced the slightly raised lines with his fingertips, Moreau understood why the book had remained intact and untouched by damp soil.

"Just to achieve the effect of preventing corrosion and moisture, the entire book cover has to be engraved with complicated divine characters. Just as Jin said, learning this skill is indeed a thankless task."

Morrow stared at the complex barcode on the inner page of the book cover, and couldn't help but think of the wooden box that Ging had left for Gon, and the space where he had first entered the Greed Island game.

Whether it's the wooden strips that make up the square box or the surrounding space, it's covered with complex two-dimensional barcodes that are visible to the naked eye.

This impression, which gradually became clearer in his memory, gave Moro the feeling that, regardless of the effectiveness of the word "divine," the preliminary process was at least outrageous.

It now seems that even the "learning process" is extremely difficult.

Moro even suspected that King was willing to put so much effort into the word "God" precisely because he wanted to be able to create the game Greed Island.

"It's all here."

Despite his concerns about the cost-effectiveness of practicing the Divine Word, Moro felt it was worth a try since things had come to this point.

If you find that your efforts are not yielding the desired results, it's best to cut your losses promptly.

After all, the same amount of time could be spent honing skills or abilities, which would likely yield greater benefits.

As his thoughts wandered, Moro turned to the first page. What greeted his eyes was not the common script he had expected, but rows of unfamiliar characters shaped like tadpoles, each stroke exuding an air of obscurity.

“This is… Krakolvin.”

Moro recognized the obscure language, which was spoken only in the ancient kingdom of Ganyu.

I first came into contact with this script because a portion of Krakauer script was engraved on the "Eye of Truth" card.

I never expected that the book left by Don Freecss would be written in such a niche medium.

But considering the divine background of the ancient Ganyu Kingdom, one can't help but feel that there must be a reason for it.

"Fortunately, there were the annotations left by Jin."

Moreau's gaze swept across the pages. The difficult characters were densely covered with annotations in the Common Language, and even the complex array of images of the divine word had the derivation process marked next to it.

The entire book resembles a meticulously organized set of study notes by a top student, breaking down obscure and difficult-to-understand content layer by layer.

If it weren't for these detailed annotations, the sheer volume of incomprehensible text alone would have been enough to make Moreau give up on the spot.

Moro leaned against the cave wall and began to look intently.

Inside the somewhat narrow cave, the only sound could be the waves crashing against the rocks.

It wasn't until the orange twilight spread to a corner of the cave that Morrow realized night was approaching.

"call."

Moro closed the book, let out a long sigh, and rubbed his throbbing temples wearily.

Too complicated.

This is what Moreo felt after studying it for several hours.

He needed to memorize every single module that could form the complete character for "god," which resembled a QR code.

However, there are many types of "modules", and just memorizing them is already a daunting challenge.

The first example of the word "God" that Moreau saw in the book had the effect of saving, consisting of 29 different modules.

This means that if Moreau wants to replicate the effect of the word "god," he must do four things.

1. Memorize all the basic "god" modules.

2. Accurately select the 29 specific modules required.

3. Arrange them into a tight matrix.

4. Ensure that the position of each module is exactly as described.

Once you've finished, you still need to prevent the "God" module from being damaged...

If even a small part of the "God" module is damaged, the entire "God" module will lose its effect.

This point of knowledge is written in the first two pages of the book, as if to tell the person turning the pages: Are you sure you want to fall into this trap?
Even if the book didn't explicitly state this, Moreau knew that the God barcode module was easily compromised.

After all, he had once destroyed a divine symbol set up by a Nen user on an airship, thus helping Kang Jae out of a predicament.

"No wonder so few people study the word 'divine'."

Moro slowly lowered his hand, still feeling a slight throbbing pain in his temples.

I once looked down upon this world as a reader, and at that time I wondered why the word "God," which could support a Nen power product of the scale of Greed Island, had such a weak presence on the stage of power users.

The case has been solved.

It's not that its presence is weak, but rather that the difficulty of its practice is too high. It does share some similarities with the circle technique in chanting.

Techniques like "En" are very difficult to master and not very useful in actual combat, so unless it is a necessity, few Nen users would go to great lengths to practice such techniques.

The same applies to the character "神" (god).

It is even much, much more difficult to learn than "circle".

Even though Moro had a guide to mastering the "god" character that had been annotated by top students, he still felt that the barrier to entry was extremely high.

"Let's persevere for a while. If I can find value in studying the Divine Word before Xiao Jie comes back, then I'll continue learning."

Moreau put away the books, left the cave, and returned to the edge of the cliff.

now.

The last rays of the setting sun disappeared below the horizon, and night enveloped Whale Island like a veil.

In the slightly cool sea breeze, Morro walked along the grassy path toward the village where lights were gradually coming on.

Whale Island has a small population but complete facilities, including markets, hotels, and even a port.

Moro entered the village, thinking that he would be staying on Whale Island for a while, so he naturally wanted to choose a hotel to stay in for an extended period.

However, there is no need to choose at all.

Because there is only one hotel in the village.

After checking into the hotel, Moro began looking for a restaurant to have dinner.

Soon, a house that blended seamlessly with the tree caught his attention.

Above the entrance that resembled a shop, there was no signboard, but a wooden sign that read "Open for Business" hung on the door, swaying gently in the evening breeze.

Moro paused, hearing laughter and the clinking of cutlery coming from inside, then went over and pushed open the door.

The moment you push open the door, the aroma of wine mixed with the rich smell of stewed seafood wafts out.

The five wooden tables inside the shop were all occupied, and behind the wooden bar at the far end stood a woman with a dignified and beautiful appearance.

It was Mitt, whom I had met during the day.

Inside the bar, Mitt placed the freshly washed wine glasses on the strainer and looked up at Moro as he entered through the door.

"welcome."

Her lips naturally curved into a warm smile, revealing the shop owner's unique approachable demeanor.

The customers in the shop were mostly fishermen from Whale Island. Seeing that Moro was a stranger, they took a few more glances at him.

Moro walked straight to the bar.

There's only room left there.

As Moro sat down at the bar, he heard Mitt ask, "Sir, would you like some drinks or food?"

"Have a meal."

As Morrow spoke, he glanced at the handwritten menu on the wall and said, "Give me a seafood fried rice."

"Okay, would you like something to drink?"

"Mite asked with a smile."

Moro glanced subconsciously at the dazzling array of liquor cabinets, and considering that he would continue studying the word "God" after dinner, he asked, "Do you have orange juice?"

"Of course."

"Then I'll have a glass of orange juice."

"Ok."

Mitt smiled and replied, then went into the kitchen and ordered a seafood fried rice. He then returned to the bar and poured Morrow a glass of orange juice.

Mitt gently pushed the orange juice towards Morrow, then leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the edge of the bar, and asked curiously, "You haven't been sitting there all this time, have you?"

"Ah."

Moro nodded.

Mite blinked, slightly surprised: "Is the scenery there really that appealing to you?"

"Yes."

A forced smile, just like the one from earlier in the day, appeared on Moro's lips as he hastily fabricated a reason:
"Although the scenery won't change, I won't get tired of staying there as long as I want, before the novelty wears off. Besides, as you said, the scenery there is indeed very beautiful."

"makes sense."

Mitt always had a gentle smile on his face.

Not long after, a steaming plate of seafood fried rice was served.

Moro took a bite and was surprised to find that it tasted quite good.

He had long been accustomed to Mencius's cooking, and over time, he became more discerning about food.

This was not his original intention; it was just that Menchi had an almost obsessive pursuit of cooking.

Moreover, during each meal, her bright eyes would always look at him expectantly, awaiting his evaluation.

Although he always sincerely replied that it was delicious, Menchi always seemed to feel it wasn't enough, or perhaps she was worried that he would get tired of it, so she always put more effort into preparing all sorts of different dishes.

Moro once asked Mencius this question: Don't you get tired of cooking different dishes every day?

Menchi replied in a matter-of-fact tone: I enjoy cooking, and you enjoy every dish I make. I can feel the joy that comes from both of these enjoyments at the same time, so how could I possibly get tired of it?
So, the fact that Moro thought the seafood fried rice was good under Menchi's extremely high-intensity feeding is enough to prove that the fried rice was indeed of excellent quality.

"Does it taste okay?"

Mitt's bright eyes were fixed on Morrow's reaction, his tone carrying an undisguised hint of smugness.

Moro had just swallowed a mouthful of fried rice and hadn't even had a chance to speak when a slightly tipsy drinker next to him preemptively interrupted, "Mite, you didn't make this fried rice, look at how smug you are."

"Why did you have to talk so much? I'd rather you choke on your drink and die!"

The gentle smile on Mitt's face vanished instantly. His right hand, which was resting on the edge of the bar, clenched into a fist, and he glared fiercely at the regular customer.

But the next second, she quickly regained her dignified demeanor, her change of expression so swift it was astonishing.

The drinker instinctively shrank back, awkwardly picked up his glass and took a swig, only to choke and cough.

Seeing this, Mitt's lips curled into a gloating smile.

In just a few seconds, Moro had finished the fried rice completely.

"Please give me another order of seafood fried rice."

"what?"

Mitt looked at the empty plate and exclaimed in surprise, "You...eat so fast!"

As he spoke, he immediately ran to the kitchen and asked his grandmother to make another seafood fried rice.

When the seafood fried rice was served, Mitt saw that Morrow ate a very generous portion of fried rice in less than ten seconds.

"One more."

"Okay, okay..."

As time passed, amidst the astonishment of the customers and Mitt, the empty plates next to Morrow piled higher and higher.

Until Morrow paid the bill and left,
The people in the shop were still staring blankly at the tower of at least twenty empty plates.

"That young man looked weak, but I didn't expect him to have such a terrible appetite. He's a strange person."

A customer at the bar said incredulously.

Mitt glared at him immediately and said, "Don't talk badly about others behind their backs."

"Uh, okay..."

After reprimanding the regular customer, Mitt looked at the closed shop door, and the image of Moro's face, which seemed to be half asleep, flashed through his mind, with a hint of curiosity in his brown eyes.

(End of this chapter)