The Remnants of the Ant King

The wind at the East Gorteau Weapons Testing Ground carried the scent of sulfur and blood, whipping up fine shards of shattered glass across the ground.

Netero collapsed weakly onto the cracked earth, his chest heaving violently. Every breath tugged at his fractured ribs, and the coughed-up blood stained his graying beard.

The 100-Type Guanyin unleashed with his life's culmination of training had failed to scratch Meruem in the slightest, and the forcibly detonated Rose blast had shattered his own bones to pieces. Had it not been for Saitama's inadvertent kick, he would have already turned to flying ash by now.

"Hey, old man, are you seriously unable to stand up?" Saitama squatted down, holding a crinkled plastic bag, and poked Netero's arm. "Who's going to take me to get good food, then?"

Netero gave a wry smile, his voice as weak as a candle in the wind. "Sorry for the trouble, young friend... give me a lift. Thirty kilometers east, a Zoldyck private airship is standing by there. The chef on board can make anything you want to eat."

"All right!"

Without missing a beat, Saitama bent down and scooped Netero up horizontally. The one-hundred-twenty-jin old man felt as light as a bag of cotton in his arms, and his footsteps were brisk enough that he could even skip to avoid the rubble on the road. Netero didn't feel so much as a single jolt in his arms.

The old chairman's weathered face instantly flushed red. Having lived for over a hundred and twenty years, he had served as the chairman of the Hunter Association, beaten countless heinous criminals, and dared to fight the Chimera Ant King head-on; he had never suffered such humiliating indignity in his entire life. He wanted to struggle down and walk on his own,