Netero arrived early at the Heavens Arena, originally intending to slack off a bit.
But since he was already there, he figured he might as well check out how the Martial Arts Olympics were going.
That's when he witnessed the match between Moro and Luna.
The fluidity of the "Limbo Steps"...
It surprised Netero.
Some well-established assassin families could develop techniques similar to Limbo, but there were always telltale differences in the finer details.
With his vast experience, Netero could tell at a glance that Moro was using the genuine Zoldyck-style Limbo Steps.
If it had only been the footwork, Netero would've been surprised and left it at that.
But what truly caught his attention was the way Moro attacked Luna—the angles he chose, the way he generated force—everything bore the unmistakable mark of Shingen-ryu.
That made things strange.
Fluent in Zoldyck-style footwork, and with a clear foundation in Shingen-ryu...
Such an outstanding talent should have been on Netero's radar.
Yet he had no memory of Moro at all.
If not for the biennial Martial Arts Olympics, he never would've expected such a promising figure to be hiding among the Heavens Arena's floor masters.
Stroking his beard slowly, Netero found his interest piqued.
Beep.
Suddenly, the intercom on the wall buzzed, followed by a security officer's voice: "Chairman Netero, there's a little lady outside who insists on seeing you. Says her name is Biscuit."
Little lady…
Netero's eyelids drooped.
"Let her in."
"Yes, sir."
Click—the call ended.
Moments later—
A knock came at the tea room's traditional sliding door.
Before Netero could even respond, Biscuit pushed the door open herself.
"You haven't changed a bit, Biscuit."
Netero chuckled as Biscuit stepped in holding a bag of tea snacks.
"I didn't come empty-handed," she said, placing the snacks on the low table and taking a seat.
"I was going to pretend not to know you were here, but considering your age, it felt wrong not to pay my respects."
"Hoho."
Netero only smiled at her sharp tongue.
He turned his head slightly, glancing at the now-powered-off television, a glimmer of insight in his eyes.
"Biscuit, I just watched a match."
"Oh?"
Unwrapping the snacks, Biscuit replied, "Must've been Moro's match, huh? Yeah, I'm involved with him—somewhat."
She correctly guessed why Netero brought it up and got straight to the point.
Stroking his beard, Netero smiled and asked, "So, what's your impression?"
"Like an insatiable sponge—amazing. But his best quality is his mindset."
Biscuit pushed the snacks toward Netero.
He glanced at them but didn't eat—just picked one up and started fiddling with it.
Biscuit shook her head slightly.
She was used to his quirks.
"I'm planning to recommend him for a Hunter License. Neither you nor the Association would want to miss a talent like him, right?"
"Hoho, naturally."
A glint of expectation lit Netero's eyes.
Talent is always in demand.
And for a civilian organization like the Hunter Association, its greatest strength lies in the people it recruits from all walks of life.
The most exceptional of them become the Zodiac Twelve—the Association's core.
As Biscuit said, the Association's hunger for talent is never in question.
"Oh, and Moro's also an Exorcist. He seems particularly good at removing death curses."
Biscuit suddenly remembered another one of Moro's abilities.
Netero immediately sat up straighter, his interest piqued.
"To have such potential and be able to remove deadly curses—that's rare."
The Association only had one Exorcist—and he wasn't even good at removing fatal curses.
So upon hearing about Moro's specialty, Netero began making mental calculations.
Such a person couldn't be allowed to slip through their fingers.
Biscuit noted Netero's reaction and wasn't surprised—though she felt a twinge of pity for him.
That pity wasn't for Moro—it was for Netero.
Once the strongest man in the world, now bound to the role of "Chairman of the Hunter Association."
Caught in a web of politics, forced to navigate endless negotiations, constrained on all sides, burdened by responsibilities...
Living not for oneself, but for others.
Being in that position long enough, even the most capable eyes would see only empty plains ahead.
That's why Biscuit made this visit—not just out of courtesy, but to bring Netero a true talent he couldn't afford to ignore.
In doing so, she felt she'd offered him a small gift.
— — —
Netero's visit...
And Biscuit's personal endorsement...
Moro knew none of this.
After finishing his match, he returned to his room and dove straight into immersive training.
By evening, the top-ten-to-top-five matches had concluded.
Moro received word that Hua Shidoulang had won his match.
Unlike last round, Hua had reflected on his previous fights, reined in his aggressiveness, and adopted a more measured style.
This time, he secured a clean win.
Later, the group had dinner at Menchi's place, then moved to the training ring on their private floor.
Sparring had become a daily routine for them.
"Tomorrow's the draw. Then the day after, round three of eliminations starts. The stronger we go, the tougher the opponents. I'm not sure I'll make it through."
Standing in the ring, Hua Shidoulang stared at his clenched fists.
The Martial Arts Olympics champion… control of the Heavens Arena top floor...
That prestige and power drew countless fighters.
As a martial artist, he naturally dreamed of reaching the peak.
But he also knew his limits. He didn't expect to win the championship—just making it to the finals would already be a huge achievement.
"Hua Shidoulang! Keep zoning out and I won't hold back!"
On the opposite end of the ring, Kalista charged a Nen projectile, clearly ready to hurl it the next second.
In these few months, she still hadn't chosen a specific ability, but her fundamentals had grown stronger and stronger.
Just conjuring a Nen bullet wasn't hard for her anymore.
Solid basics—that had always been her edge over Hua.
And now, as his sparring partner, she'd noticed his basics were improving fast.
Sigh.
She had to admit—Hua was incredibly gifted.
Snapped out of it by Kalista, Hua quickly got serious, adjusting his stance with focus.
Kalista rolled her eyes.
"I'm just your sparring partner, not your enemy."
"Sorry…"
He laughed apologetically, realizing he was taking things too seriously.
Outside the ring—
Moro silently watched for a moment before turning to leave.
Training with companions was far more effective.
By observing others, you could absorb their strengths—and notice your own weaknesses.
He smiled.
With Menchi, Biscuit, Hua, and Kalista around, even the exhausting and tedious grind of training felt a little brighter.
The next afternoon—
The tournament organizers broadcasted the draw live.
And the host for the drawing?
Hunter Association Chairman Netero!
The world's strongest professional Hunter.
Leader of the most elite experts alive.
The greatest martial artist alive.
A living legend wrapped in countless titles.
Moro watched Netero appear on the screen, recalling scenes from the original story.
Hyakushiki Kannon...
Seeing it from a reader's perspective was one thing.
But what would it be like to witness it firsthand, in this real world?
Curiosity flickered in his eyes.
One thing was clear:
The man on that screen was the very embodiment of strength.
Next to him, Hua and Kalista watched the broadcast, eyes wide with admiration.
Any proper martial artist would recognize Netero.
As martial artists, they idolized someone like him.
Soon, Netero completed the draw.
One pairing stood out—Hua Shidoulang vs. Orion.
Instantly—
Moro, Kalista, and Menchi all looked at Hua.
Hua kept his eyes on the screen, hands slowly clenching into fists.
"Thank goodness I didn't get matched with Master."
Looking away from the screen, he smiled at his companions.
In his view, as long as he didn't have to fight his own teacher, he had a shot at advancing.
Even if his opponent was Orion, the reigning two-time champion…
Hua would still go all-out and fight with everything he had.
This was his chance to test the results of months of training.
"Do your best."
Kalista said, unusually subdued.
Moro got up to fetch some footage of Orion's past fights.
Orion was undeniably a formidable foe.
Studying tapes might not guarantee victory, but it would give Hua a much-needed sense of what to expect.
December 22nd.
Round three of the Martial Arts Olympics began.
Six contestants. Three matches. All in one day.
As expected, Moro's match was scheduled first.
The fans were used to it by now.
His opponent this time was a sword-wielding Enhancer—one of the more straightforward floor masters.
Without Biscuit's intensive sparring sessions, Moro would've had a much harder time dealing with an opponent like this—especially with "Shooting Star" and "Starburst" sealed.
But now, he felt little pressure.
Still, he didn't underestimate anyone.
Before stepping into the ring, he borrowed the Red Jade Qindao sword from Menchi.
It would be his first time using a weapon in the ring.
His opponent's name was Shiraishi—fox-faced and dressed in a red-and-white samurai outfit, typical of Ryuukoku.
Another swordsman from that nation…
Moro calmly studied him, Red Jade Qindao in hand.
He'd already crossed paths with several Ryuukoku people—starting with a dispute over the Senro Katana, then killing a suspected ninja, learning about their forging techniques from Menchi, and now this swordsman.
Shiraishi glanced at Moro's blade.
"Blades are blind to mercy. No regrets."
His voice was slightly effeminate, but carried a cold edge.
Moro raised an eyebrow.
"You've got a problem with me bringing a weapon?"
"…"
Moro was silent for a moment—then smiled.
Something shifted in his presence.
Shiraishi's eyes narrowed in response.
"Good."
He thumbed his blade loose in its sheath, exuding sharp fighting intent.
He only drew his sword against armed opponents—and always aimed to spill blood.
Moro felt the killing intent clearly.
This guy was ready to kill—and it was his sword that triggered it.
Funny, really—Moro brought the weapon out of respect for the match, but it made his opponent bloodthirsty.
It had been a while since his last level-up.
Thanks to months of hard training, he'd gone from Lv.44 to Lv.45.
Maybe this swordsman could push him to Lv.46.
Only one way to find out.
Minutes later—
Clang!
The ring echoed as Shiraishi's sword fell to the floor.
"Guh…"
Clutching his bleeding neck, Shiraishi stared in disbelief at Moro sheathing the Red Jade Qindao.
Before losing consciousness, he replayed the strike in his mind:
A tiger-shaped Nen construct had grabbed the sword and slashed at his blind spot—
What kind of move even is that…?
With deep unwillingness, he collapsed in a pool of blood.
Moro glanced at the back of his hand.
Lv.45 → Lv.46.
Perfect.
Time for Hua Shidoulang's match against Orion.
Without looking back at the body, Moro left the ring.
Behind him, cheers erupted, shaking the ceiling.
Only this time, the crowd's roar held something darker, more feral.
Probably because of the three-foot-wide blood pool in the ring.
People claimed to love martial arts—but what they really loved was the violence.
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50 Powerstones? (5 Bonus Chapters)
20 Advance Chapters: patreon.com/milezen