Netero had come to Heavens Arena ahead of time, originally intending to slack off.
But since he was here, he had to at least pay some attention to the progress of the Battle Olympia.
And so, he ended up watching the match between Morrow and Luna.
Rhythm Echo...
This surprised Netero somewhat.
Although some well-established assassin families could develop footwork similar to Rhythm Echo, there were always subtle differences in the details.
With his vast experience, Netero could tell at a glance that the footwork Morrow was using was none other than the Zoldyck Family's Rhythm Echo.
If it were just the footwork, Netero would only have been mildly surprised at Morrow's proficiency with it.
What truly caught him off guard was the angles Morrow used when attacking Luna, as well as the force exertion habits displayed in his techniques—all of which bore traces of the Shingen-ryu Style.
This was strange.
Proficient in Rhythm Echo, yet with strong Shingen-ryu influences.
Such excellence should have made him one of the top talents of the younger generation.
Yet Netero had no recollection of Morrow at all.
If not for the biennial Battle Olympia, he would never have guessed that among Heavens Arena's Floor Masters, there was someone as exceptional as Morrow.
For a moment, Netero slowly stroked his beard, growing somewhat interested in the upcoming matches.
Beep.
Suddenly, the intercom on the wall emitted a soft sound, followed by the voice of a security guard: "Chairman Netero, there's a little girl named Biscuit insisting on seeing you."
Little girl...
Hearing this, Netero's eyelids drooped slightly.
"Let her in."
"Understood."
The call ended.
A short while later.
Knocks sounded at the door of the Japanese-style tearoom.
Before Netero could respond, Biscuit had already slid the door open herself.
"You haven't changed a bit, Biscuit," Netero chuckled as he watched her stride in uninvited.
Biscuit raised the packaged tea snacks in her hand. "I didn't come empty-handed."
With that, she walked over to the low table, set the snacks down, and took a seat.
"I was going to pretend I didn't know you were here, but considering your age, it would've been rude not to pay my respects."
"Hohoho."
Netero merely laughed at Biscuit's sharp tongue, choosing not to engage.
He tilted his head slightly, glancing at the now-turned-off TV, a glimmer of understanding flashing in his eyes.
"Biscuit, I just finished watching a match."
"Oh?"
Biscuit unwrapped the snacks and placed the delicate treats on the table. "Morrow's match, right? Yes, I have some connection to him."
She could guess why Netero had suddenly brought up the match and thus answered directly.
Netero habitually stroked his beard and smiled. "And?"
"Like an insatiable sponge. Remarkable. But the most outstanding thing about Morrow is his temperament."
She pushed the tea snacks toward Netero.
Netero glanced down at them but didn't eat. Instead, he picked one up and toyed with it.
Biscuit shook her head slightly.
She was long accustomed to Netero's playful nature.
"I'll suggest Morrow take the licensing exam. Neither the Association nor you would want to miss out on talent like him, right?"
"Hoh, naturally."
A spark of anticipation flickered in Netero's eyes.
Talent...
It was always in high demand, no matter where. For an organization like the Hunter Association, the greatest pillar of support lies in its diverse pool of talents.
Or perhaps it would be more accurate to say that the key to keeping the Hunter Association operational is precisely the exceptional individuals recruited from all corners of the world.
Among them, the most outstanding are undoubtedly the Zodiac Twelve, who shine brilliantly in their respective fields.
This is the core of the Hunter Association.
Thus, as Biscuit pointed out, the Association's undeniable thirst for talent is beyond question.
"By the way, Morrow is also an Exorcist. He seems particularly skilled at removing Post-Mortem Nen," Biscuit suddenly recalled another of Morrow's abilities.
Upon hearing this, Netero instinctively straightened his posture, displaying keen interest.
"To possess such potential and excel at removing Post-Mortem Nen is truly rare."
Within the Hunter Association, there was only one Exorcist.
And that individual wasn't adept at handling Post-Mortem Nen.
So when Netero learned of Morrow's proficiency in this area, his mind was already made up.
How could such a talent be overlooked?
Biscuit observed Netero's reaction, unsurprised, yet a trace of pity welled up in her heart.
This pity was directed at Neterro.
Once the world's strongest, now bound by the title of "Hunter Association Chairman."
Forced to navigate complex interpersonal relationships, constrained by countless balances of power, burdened with endless considerations...
No longer free to act as he wished, his heart no longer his own.
After so long in that position, all he could see before him was likely an empty plain, devoid of anything.
Deeply moved by this realization, Biscuit had come to visit Netero not merely out of respect as a junior, but also to help him identify an indispensable talent.
In doing so, she felt she had contributed something meaningful to Netero.
—--
Netero's arrival.
And Biscuit's proactive recommendation.
Morrow remained completely unaware of these developments.
As soon as his match ended, he returned to his room and immersed himself in training.
By evening.
The top ten to five matches had concluded.
Morrow received news that Kastro had defeated his opponent.
Compared to the previous round, Kastro had consciously tempered his aggressive style after reviewing his performance, opting instead for a more steady approach.
Thus, this round's victory was achieved without sustaining any injuries.
After dinner at Menchi's place, the group headed to the private floor's training arena.
For them, practical combat drills had become routine.
"Tomorrow's the draw for the next round, followed by the third elimination matches the day after. The further we progress, the stronger the opponents become. I'm not sure if I can advance smoothly," Kastro stood in the arena, staring down at his clenched fists.
The title of Battle Olympia champion, the dominion over Heavens Arena's highest floor...
This status and authority were coveted by countless martial artists.
As a martial artist himself, Kastro naturally aspired to reach the pinnacle.
But knowing his own limitations, he didn't dare hope to grasp even a corner of the championship. Merely making it to the finals would already be the best possible outcome.
"Kastro, if you keep spacing out, don't blame me for going all out," Calista warned from the other side of the arena, already forming a Nen bullet in her hand with the clear implication of launching it at any moment.
After several months, she still hadn't settled on what ability to develop, though her foundational techniques had grown increasingly solid. Now, forming a Nen bullet was no longer difficult for her.
Solid foundational skills had always been her advantage over Kastro.
Now, she had become Kastro's sparring partner.
As their training sessions increased, she could sense that Kastro's fundamentals were steadily improving.
Sigh.
In this process of mutual growth, she had to admit, Kastro's talent was truly remarkable.
After Calista's verbal warning, Kastro immediately adjusted his mindset, adopting a serious combat stance.
Calista rolled her eyes.
"I'm just your sparring partner, not an obstacle."
"My apologies…"
Kastro also realized he was being overly formal and smiled apologetically.
Outside the arena, Morrow silently withdrew his gaze and turned to leave.
When it came to training, having companions made things better.
After all, mutual progress allowed them to learn from each other's strengths and identify their own weaknesses through comparison.
Thinking this, Morrow smiled.
With Menchi, Biscuit, Kastro, and Calista around, the otherwise tedious and grueling training had gained a bit more color.
—--
The next afternoon.
The Battle Olympia organizers broadcast the drawing of lots live for the audience.
And the one responsible for the draw? None other than the Chairman of the Hunter Association, Netero!
The world's strongest Pro Hunter, the leader of the world's most elite experts, the world's strongest martial artist…
This living legend carried far too many accolades.
As Morrow watched Netero appear on the TV screen, scenes from the original story depicting Netero's battles flashed through his mind.
100-Type Guanyin Bodhisattva…
What difference would there be between witnessing the 100-Type Guanyin as a reader and seeing it firsthand in this world?
A glimmer of curiosity surfaced in Morrow's eyes.
One thing was certain.
The revered old man on the TV screen was, without a doubt, the very embodiment of strength.
Beside him, Kastro and Calista both stared intently at Netero on the screen.
Any properly trained martial artist would recognize Netero.
As martial artists themselves, Kastro and Calista naturally revered someone like him.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, Netero swiftly completed the draw.
One of the matchups turned out to be Kastro versus Orion.
Immediately,
Morrow, Calista, and Menchi all turned to look at Kastro.
Kastro, however, kept his eyes fixed on the TV screen, his hands slowly clenching into fists.
"At least I didn't draw my master."
Kastro finally looked away from the screen and turned to Morrow and the others with a gentle smile.
In his view, among the six fighters in the draw, as long as he didn't face his own master, he still had a chance to advance to the next round.
Even if his opponent was Orion, the two-time reigning champion…
Kastro would fight with the determination to win, holding nothing back.
This was also his chance to truly test the results of his months of training.
"Good luck."
Calista, for once, reined in her usual demeanor.
Morrow, meanwhile, got up to find some useful recordings for Kastro.
For Kastro, Orion was undoubtedly a formidable opponent. If he could carefully study the battle recordings, it might not guarantee an increased chance of victory, but at least it would give him a clearer understanding.
—--
December 22nd.
The Battle Olympia entered its third round.
Six contestants advancing to three, with a total of three matches to be completed in a single day.
As expected, Morrow's match was scheduled first again.
And the audience, who were passionate about watching live matches, seemed to have grown accustomed to this arrangement.
Morrow's opponent this time was an Enhancer skilled with a blade, and among the Floor Masters, he was relatively pure in his abilities.
Without Biscuit's practical combat training, dealing with this type of Enhancer while sealing "Shooting Star" and "Starlight Convergence" would have been far from simple.
Now, even before the match began, Morrow felt almost no pressure.
But he wouldn't underestimate any opponent. Before stepping onto the stage, he retrieved the Poultry Scarlet Knife from Menchi.
This was also the first time he would wield a weapon in the ring.
Morrow's opponent was named Shiroishi, with a fox-like face, dressed in a white and red samurai outfit.
This style of clothing mostly originated from Jappon.
Combined with his name's stylistic origin, it was clear he hailed from Jappon.
Morrow held the Poultry Scarlet Knife, calmly sizing up Shiroishi.
Thinking about it, his encounters with people and things from Jappon had been quite frequent.
The earliest was the dispute sparked by the legendary sword Senro, during which he had killed someone from Jappon suspected to be a ninja.
That had been an invaluable experience.
Later, he learned from Menchi about Jappon's sword-forging prowess and knew that Menchi had invested considerable money in "finding the right weapon."
Now, he was facing a swordsman from Jappon.
Shiroishi slightly opened his narrow eyes, slowly glancing over the Poultry Scarlet Knife in Morrow's hand.
"Blades have no eyes; life and death are beyond reproach."
His voice was somewhat soft, but it carried a sharp edge and chill.
Hearing this, Morrow couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.
Shiroishi observed Morrow's reaction and said coolly, "You hold a weapon... is there a problem?"
"..."
Morrow was silent for a moment, then smiled.
And instantly, his entire demeanor became spirited.
Shiroishi sensed this change in Morrow's aura, and his expression shifted involuntarily.
"Good."
He pushed the hilt open with his Thumb, his gaze revealing a battle intent and killing intent as sharp as a blade's edge.
If his opponent were unarmed, Shiroishi wouldn't draw his sword.
But if the opponent came to the ring armed, Shiroishi wouldn't just draw his blade, he would strive to ensure his opponent "bled on the stage."
Morrow felt the sharp killing intent emanating from his opponent.
He was highly sensitive to killing intent, so he could glean some information from such undisguised hostility.
Clearly, his opponent's bloodlust was running high at the moment.
And the reason for this shift was likely the Poultry Scarlet Knife in his hand.
Unexpectedly, his seriousness about the match had stirred Shiroishi's killing intent.
Come to think of it, it had been a long time since he leveled up.
But over two months of diligent training had raised his level from Lv.44 to Lv.45.
If he could claim the experience from this swordsman before him, he wondered if he could reach Lv.46.
He'd find out by trying.
A few minutes later...
The clang of a blade hitting the ground echoed across the ring. That was the sound of Shiroishi's longsword hitting the ground.
"Guh..."
Clutching his bleeding neck, Shiroishi stared in disbelief at Morrow, who was sheathing the Poultry Scarlet Knife.
Before darkness consumed his consciousness, his mind replayed Morrow's last strike.
Using an extended, tiger-head-shaped Nen to grip the Poultry Scarlet Knife and slash at his neck from a blind spot...
How could such a technique exist?
With overwhelming resentment, Shiroishi collapsed onto the arena, blood splattering across the floor.
Morrow subtly glanced at the back of his hand.
Lv.45 → Lv.46.
Good. A smooth level-up.
The next match would be Kastro versus Orion.
Without sparing another glance at Shiroishi's corpse, Morrow turned and stepped off the stage.
Behind him, the deafening cheers continued, nearly shaking the ceiling.
Only this time, the roar carried an even more frenzied, bloodthirsty edge.
Likely because of the blood spilled across the arena.
Though they claimed to love martial arts, most people secretly craved brutal carnage.
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Bonus chapter for the 50 power stones.
Remember: I'll publish a bonus chapter for every new review and for every 10 Power Stones the story gets.