Novel Catalog
Chapter 141
“You’re free to throw your punches,” Nash said, calm and composed. “But this time—make me your target.”
Bianca exhaled slowly, steadying her breath. Then she launched forward, striking out with the combinations Nash had drilled into her.
Nash moved effortlessly, his right hand shifting angles with sharp precision. Whether Bianca threw a real punch or a feint, he blocked each one as if he already knew what she would do next.
She tried to surprise him—a fake left uppercut followed by a swift hook to the abdomen.
But Nash reacted flawlessly: his left hand rose to block the uppercut, and in the blink of an eye, his right shifted down to guard his stomach.
This wasn’t human speed. It was instinct honed to perfection.
Bianca faltered. Doubt flickered in her chest like a crack in glass. She lowered her fists slightly, discouraged. But she didn’t complain—how could she? In that moment, she understood the depth of Nash’s mastery.
No… McNash’s.
The man in front of her had to be him.
The father of the King of Fighters.
The legend who never stepped into a ring himself, yet shaped champions with his bare hands.
When she stopped throwing punches, Nash tilted his head, voice laced with disdainful amusement. “What’s this? Giving up already?”
Bianca didn’t answer. Her head lowered, shoulders rising and falling with every breath. She stood like a chastised student—silent, ashamed.
Skadi marched over, her tone biting cold. “Bianca, did you forget why you started boxing in the first place?”
Bianca flinched.
How could she ever forget?
Her father had once been a titan in the ring, a boxer whose strength left most opponents cowering.
But when she was six, everything shattered.
That night, before the match in Capiton, she remembered his warm smile and gentle words:
“My sweet girl, there’s a prize of three million this time. I used to dream of winning the Golden Belt. But after I had you and your mother, I gave up that dream. Now, all I want is to earn enough so you can have a dowry when you’re older. After this match, I’ll retire. I’ll stay with you both, always.”
She never saw him alive again.
Later, an autopsy revealed a hallucinogenic drug in his system. Private detectives confirmed the mineral water he drank during intermission had been spiked with an anesthetic that sapped his strength. He had surrendered in the ring—but his opponent kept beating him. Until he died.
From that day on, Bianca wore her father’s gloves in secret. She entered the world of boxing, determined to win the Golden Belt and seek justice for her father.
But now? She couldn’t even claim the Phoenix Crown.
Bianca’s gaze lifted slowly. Then her fists. She took her stance again, her resolve hardening.
Nash glanced at the clock. “Ten minutes left. You’ve got five to train. Five to rest.”
He took off the focus pads and pulled on a pair of gloves.
“Let’s go full-contact. You attack. I’ll defend. Learn to find your openings—and make them when they’re not there.”
Bianca wasted no time. She lunged forward and threw the first punch.
Nash didn’t fight back. He simply guarded his head, his form calm and collected.
Left hook. Right hook. Straight punch. Swing. Jab.
Bianca’s fists flew, faster and harder than ever before. Her movements were sharper, her attacks more focused. Nash allowed a small, approving smile to tug at his lips.
She still didn’t have Mike Thorson’s explosive strength—Black Widow couldn’t compare to Mike either—but Bianca’s progress was undeniable.
In five minutes, she unleashed over 2,500 punches. That was more than 500 per minute.
“Time!” Nash called.
He stepped forward and helped remove her gloves.
Bianca collapsed into a chair, chest heaving. Sweat clung to her skin, and her arms trembled from exhaustion.
Skadi hurried over and began fanning her with both hands. Hera unscrewed a bottle of water and held it out.
“You’re doing great, Bianca. Keep going. We’ll always be here for you.”
Bianca took a few grateful sips, her breath still uneven. Her eyes welled up. “Thank you,” she whispered.
She could feel it—her skill had already improved more than she ever imagined possible in just one day.
Lifting her gaze toward Nash, she asked softly, “Are you… McNash?”