Roy's heart began to itch—an unbearable tickle in his chest, the kind that only numbers could scratch.
"199…"
That damn number glared at him from the system panel like a smug rival. So close. One point away from breaking into a new realm. It was like standing on the edge of a cliff, just one step away from flight—yet grounded.
But his experience bar was dry. Scraped clean by days of rigorous grinding and night-long cultivation.
He clenched his fist.
"Let's just brute-force this with Lian Lian Dao," he muttered.
Old Man Maha's sudden interference earlier had broken his rhythm. His daily blade cycle—Wan Ben Su Zhen—remained incomplete. Time to fix that.
Roy picked up his wooden practice blade, a stick imbued with his Nen. It wasn't flashy, but it was his. He stepped out into the small courtyard.
The air was crisp. A wind brushed past, swirling a few fallen leaves as if recognizing the weight of what was about to happen.
Thanks to 40% synchronization with the Fujitora template, Roy's strength was now at a monstrous 190. The blade in his hand felt nearly weightless—as if he could cut through the wind itself.
He stood still.
Breathed in.
Then—
Slice!
His body moved like a storm in chains. The sound of wind being torn echoed through the yard as Roy unleashed a blinding series of slashes.
Each stroke flowed into the next. Left, right, downward twist, upward arc—every motion carved a rhythm into the air, like the heartbeat of a warrior.
It was less like a boy wielding a blade and more like the blade wielded him.
Finally, the last slash fell—clean and precise.
Ding!
[You have gained a small amount of experience.]
Without hesitation, Roy funneled the gained energy into the stat he most desired:
Capacity.
He stared intently at the panel—Gas: 199.
Still.
No change.
Nothing.
A cold line of system text floated up:
[Remarks: All gods are different; ghosts and gods are unpredictable.]
[To transcend limits and reach the realm of saints: 10 EXP + substantial enlightenment and lived experience.]
Roy sighed.
"So… it's not just a numbers game after all."
99.9% will never be 100%.
59 points is still a fail.
And 199? Still not 200.
"Even if I push the stats, without the mindset to carry them… I'll be nothing but a shell."
He let the wooden sword rest on his shoulder. A distant memory flickered in his mind: Maha Zoldyck—centuries of strength compressed into one ancient frame. Not just talent. Not just Nen. But decades of life. Experience. Perspective. Struggle.
Roy's blind eyes narrowed.
"I've been cooped up in this house long enough."
The next morning…
"Maruko, take care of the house, yeah?"
Roy crouched beside the lazy cat and rubbed its chin with the handle of a cat toy. "If a thief comes, you bite. No hesitation. Go for the eyes."
Meow.
The cat yawned. Roy took it as a yes.
With his satchel on his back and his stick blade in hand, he turned and locked the gate. Or rather, he pretended to.
Because in reality—
"My house doesn't need a lock. Who would dare trespass?"
Except someone did.
"…You're early, Zi Po Nian."
The Zoldyck family's most ancient butler—her face unreadable as always—stood just beyond the gate, hands folded, bowing at a perfect angle.
"As ordered by the family head, I will accompany and protect the young master on this journey."
"Silva…" Roy muttered. "Still playing games, huh?"
He gripped his stick blade tighter.
"Do I look like someone who needs protection?"
Zi Po Nian said nothing. Her gaze softened, studying Roy's expressionless face. The stubborn fire in those blind eyes hadn't faded since childhood. If anything, it had intensified.
"The Master's orders are absolute. But if you object, you may speak with him directly."
Roy snorted. "Like that'd change anything."
She added, "Kukuru Mountain to the Davia City Library is no short walk. And between us, there's no transportation more suitable than myself."
Roy paused. She had a point. After all—
Zi Po Nian's Nen ability—Yamato Nadeshiko Seven Transformations—wasn't just for show.
In the manga, she had once transformed into a literal airplane, ferrying Silva's children through the skies like a bizarre, reliable grandma Uber.
The catch?
She couldn't move without a controller. Someone had to fuel her with their own Nen.
Which meant… Roy had to ride her.
"No way. I'm not a pervert like Illumi."
He strode past her, down the steps, waving dismissively.
"Hurry up, Granny. If you miss the Davia bus, I'm walking the whole way."
Zi Po Nian followed behind silently. But in her heart, a rare smile flickered.
Roy might be blind—but the world he saw was already far greater than anyone else in the family.