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Chapter_213
“If you follow me out here, won’t Hera get jealous?” Skadi teased as she slid behind the wheel.
Nash shot her a sidelong look. “Just drive.”
With a laugh, Skadi gunned the engine and they sped away.
Zabel Martial Arts Academy lay tucked into the ragged foothills beyond Jonford. A three-meter stone wall ringed the compound, its purpose obvious: keep nosy outsiders from learning their secrets. Within, squat dormitories formed a rough circle around a central sparring arena, where racks of swords, staffs, and broadswords stood ready.
Tonight, more than thirty students in crisp white gis—each bearing the Zabel crest—stood at attention on the polished stone floor. At the front, Grandmaster Zakariah Sinclair Zabel raised his voice so every challenger and spectator could hear.
“A righteous heart breeds righteous fists! Evil in the heart brings only wicked blows! Our Hero Martial Arts School has upheld these principles for generations. Never once have we bowed to an outside challenger. Tonight, we face Ihara School from Sagen—founded by a Nihon master. Show them the depth of our national martial spirit. Give everything you have in this battle!”
His eyes blazed with authority, and the students answered with a unified bow.
Skadi’s car rolled into the lot just then; every inch of asphalt was already claimed by luxury sedans, sleek SUVs, and press vans. Journalists jostled for position, cameras clicking. Curious onlookers even perched atop makeshift scaffolds against the outer wall.
“Why aren’t they letting anyone else in?” Skadi asked a guard.
“There are too many people,” the young student replied with a resigned grin. “We have to keep the arena clear for our fighters.”
A motorcade of blacked-out vehicles glided in as if on cue. From the lead Lamborghini descended Kai Watson, arm in arm with Helena Lewis, her glitzy party dress catching every flashlight. Their bodyguards fanned out behind them, giving the pair safe passage toward the grounds.
Following came Duncan Duerson, Simon Lane, Olivia Lee—each heir to one of Jonford’s Five Elites—and finally Sydney Zell, the Duersons’ poised heiress in youthful school uniform and white stockings that drew furtive camera flashes from every side.
“Look,” whispered one blogger to her companion, “Sydney Zell doesn’t do public appearances—but tonight she’s center stage.”
Skadi watched them pass. “So many VIPs in one place.”
Nash offered a sly smile. “They’re here for you.”
Skadi turned a skeptical eyebrow his way.
“They came to see you fight,” Nash explained. “Kai and Helena? Your biggest fans.”
Under the glow of lanterns lining the arena, Skadi lifted her chin, squared her shoulders, and prepared to defend Zabel’s honor.