The world knows Netero as humanity's strongest. He assumed the Hunter Association chairmanship, single-handedly founded Shingen-ryu, and assembled the Twelve Zodiacs as sparring partners. Hair tied in a ponytail behind his head—completely focused on martial arts.
Yet few understand that young Netero was an extremely pure person, spending his entire life pursuing the martial arts' ultimate peak. At 46, when he felt his body and spirit had reached humanity's achievable limits, he began training on a mountain—ten thousand grateful straight punches daily, carrying deep gratitude toward the martial arts that brought him there.
From clasping hands in prayer to opening his stance and punching. Initially, ten thousand punches took eighteen hours. Later sixteen, fourteen, ten, nine. Until age fifty, ten thousand punches shortened to one hour.
Netero descended the mountain. With punches faster than sound, he challenged dojo after dojo, earning the respect of every master he faced. They acknowledged his superiority, surrendering their dojo signs to him.
And this phrase, "honoring the martial arts that shaped you," became the core ideology guiding generation after generation of Shingen-ryu disciples. It was as fundamental as a cornerstone philosophy—holding immeasurable significance.
Biscuit remembered it clearly. As a child, Netero often patted her head, teaching her—when encountering unpleasant things, don't always think of solving them with violence. Try to understand the deeper meaning. Look at problems from different angles—you might discover that what seemed 'unpleasant' was simply your own immaturity at the time.
The fight in the ring grew intense. Nen surging through the air stirred Biscuit's bangs. She stared at Roy, seemingly forgetting her disciple still fought in the arena. Her eyes reflected only the young man's smiling face.
"Who told you that phrase?"
"Does it matter?"
"Yes, it does!" Biscuit leaned forward, more serious than Roy had ever seen her.
Roy could smell her body wash. He answered truthfully, "No one."
Biscuit leaned back. Roy stroked his cane, saying seriously, "I've been practicing swordsmanship recently. Swinging thirty thousand times daily, I gained a small insight."
Small? Biscuit's twin tails practically stood up. Grabbing Roy's collar, forehead pressed against his, she roared, "You little brat, what do you take Shingen-ryu for?! Keep talking and I'll flatten you!"
'Didn't you ask?' Roy gestured, restraining the restless Gotoh. Brazenly leaning back in his chair, he jutted his chin toward the arena. "Better worry about your precious disciple first."
The clash of Nen intensified. Wing, who'd been dominating, heard the commotion below. Caught off guard for just a moment, he took Morris's kick. Fortunately, he raised his arm to block, protecting his vital points.
"Getting distracted now? Who are you looking down on?" Morris withdrew his whip kick. His assault didn't let up. He closed in on Wing again, determined to finish him while he was vulnerable!
This kid's using some trick—his strength doesn't look like much, but those hits pack a serious punch. Morris wasn't about to give Wing another chance. He rushed forward to grab Wing's waist, his arms suddenly elongating like rubber bands, wrapping around Wing!
"Here it comes! Rubber Man Morris's signature move—Rubber Crush!"
The host pulled the microphone, roaring excitedly. The audience seats erupted. Biscuit heard and released Roy. Both looked toward the arena, quietly coating their eyes with a thin layer of Nen, using Ken.
Transmutation is known for changing aura's properties and form, mostly taking on soft and malleable characteristics. Hisoka's Bungee Gum, for example, can stretch and contract like rubber. Morris used the same method. By altering his aura's elasticity to mimic rubber, he'd transformed into a Rubber Man!
His slippery Nen-wrapped arms rapidly coiled up. 'Damn it, I shouldn't have gotten distracted.' Wing hurriedly activated Ten to protect his waist, preventing his ribs from being crushed. Then, he extended both hands, gripping the "arms" tightly to wrestle with Morris!
Enhancement differs from Transmutation's specialization in Nen's nature and form. The focus is using Nen to strengthen oneself, pushing physical capabilities to their absolute limit. Like Uvogin—shrugging off bullets and explosions, one Super Destruction Fist blasting through the earth's surface, the embodiment of overwhelming physical power.
"Now it's a contest of Ren. Whoever's stronger wins."
A veteran Nen user sat in the back row next to Roy and Biscuit. His eyes similarly coated with Nen, commenting aloud. Gotoh turned to glance at him, eyes sharpening, whispering to Roy, "That's 'Divine Spear' Guy."
No one reaching the 200th floor was a fool. Collecting opponent intelligence beforehand was mandatory for survival at Heaven's Arena.
Roy nodded, indicating he knew. Glancing sideways at Biscuit, the old woman started swinging her short legs again, seemingly not worried about Wing at all. Even mocking him, "So young yet already lying through your teeth. Watch out, or I'll tell your parents."
Practice swordsmanship! Nearly fooled by this brat!
No one in the Zoldyck family used swords. Connecting to Master Netero's relationship with the Zoldyck family, Biscuit easily guessed it must be Zeno or Silva who told Roy about Shingen-ryu's principles.
Besides, which swordsman used a walking stick as a sword? 'Only this little punk would try to fool people.'
Biscuit glanced at the cane Roy held—an ordinary hiking stick, nothing special. Rather, held in Roy's hand, it seemed somewhat worn, recalling those elderly people nearing the end who couldn't stand steady without support.
The fight reached its climax. Morris's sneak attack failed; he was unable to take down Wing in one move. Facing a strength-specialized Enhancer, defeat was inevitable. Unsurprisingly, Wing exhaled and roared, voice sinking low, flinging Morris with his Nen-wrapped arms!
A crash. Outside the arena's restricted zone, a small crater appeared. Morris's tongue stuck out. He'd passed out cold.
The battle ended. The scene erupted in thunderous applause. Tens of thousands chanted Wing's name. As his master, Biscuit looked over smugly.
The young man unhurriedly drew the cane sword. The blade wrapped in jet-black flame patterns reflected the dome lights, dazzling and sharp.
"My turn."
Biscuit: "?"