From a distance, a red dot charged towards the sky like a meteor.
It shot straight towards the Golden Gate of Heaven.
As he passed through the illusory staircase, memories in Casio's mind flashed by repeatedly like a movie reel—mundane, profound, joyful, painful—all intertwined into thick, sturdy ropes. Details of martial arts training, scenes during sudden insights into boxing theory, frenzies of battle soaked in blood, resonances during the refinement of secret martial arts—all surged into his mind.
This was the way to Heaven's Gate, the path of life, the path of martial arts. It was Casio's own way, the way into which he had transformed everything.
Each Saint Fist is distinct and cannot be replicated.
Even practicing the same boxing method, what one achieves as a Saint Fist also differs!
