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Novel Catalog
Chapter_227
Three years ago, at the annual Green Bamboo Association meeting, Nash had first laid eyes on her—the Grim-Faced Juggernaut. He had never forgotten that moment, and it was the reason he had fought so hard to take his grandfather’s place as the president of the ninth branch of the Green Bamboo Association. He knew that if he could achieve something significant, he would find a place in Wanda’s heart. But tonight, as he observed the fight unfolding before him, it felt as though that distant goal was now slipping through his fingers.
The Grim-Faced Juggernaut sat calmly, smoking her pipe, her cold demeanor unshaken by Simon’s attempts to gain her attention. He could sense her indifference and knew his efforts to impress her were futile. For now, the only thing that mattered was the fight.
On the other side of the ring, Rose had secured a chair for Nash. As he settled into it, the effeminate man approached, an energy drink bottle in hand. With a smooth, practiced gesture, he handed it to Nash.
“Thank you,” Nash said politely, though a tinge of disgust stirred inside him. He unscrewed the bottle cap, only for the effeminate man to snatch it back almost immediately.
“Thank you, Nash,” the man said, his smile widening as he clutched the bottle possessively.
Suppressing the growing irritation, Nash’s hands curled into fists. He did not respond, but instead, he delivered a cold command, “Don’t block my view.”
The effeminate man grinned wider, his tone flirtatious. “Why don’t we get to know each other, Nash? My name is Megan Spinelli.”
Nash’s patience wore thin. “Why do I need to know your name? Now get the hell out of here.”
Just as the tension reached its peak, a loud crash echoed from the octagonal cage.
Megan’s eyes narrowed, his tone sharpening. “My name is Megan, and my surname is Spinelli!”
Before Megan could say another word, Nash stood up with lethal grace, his hand shooting out to strike Megan down. The man crumpled to the ground in a heap, stunned by the force of the blow. Without a second glance, Nash returned his focus to the cage.
Inside the octagon, Bianca was being driven to the edge. Wanda’s vicious onslaught had forced Bianca into the fence, leaving her waist swollen and bloodied from the brutal impact.
Wanda, seeing her opponent vulnerable, launched into a series of rapid punches. The crowd held their breath, waiting for Bianca to fall under the pressure.
But Bianca, though struggling, did not succumb. The combination punches Wanda unleashed were ones that both Bianca and Mike had learned from Nash himself—punches that required a precise understanding of force and timing, ones that couldn’t be mastered through mere video lessons.
It became clear to Nash that Wanda had been trained by Mike for some time. The precision of her strikes indicated that she had not only learned the moves but had perfected them. Yet Bianca, despite her battered state, had also mastered the same combinations. She anticipated Wanda’s moves with surprising clarity and managed to defend herself, absorbing the blows rather than being overwhelmed.
For a moment, Wanda faltered. Her brow furrowed in confusion and frustration. She had participated in fifty-two consecutive boxing matches upon her return to Somer, winning each one with these exact same combinations. Yet now, she couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that something was off. Bianca had weathered all of her attacks, and her survival stunned Wanda.
The killing intent in Wanda’s eyes flared as she swiped a horizontal left hook toward Bianca, following it up with a jab aimed directly at Bianca’s throat.
Bianca, ever vigilant, leaned back to narrowly dodge the attack. In one fluid motion, she launched a counter-strike. Both their fists collided in mid-air with a sharp crack, sending both women stumbling back. Each took a few steps, trying to regain their footing.
Bianca had known of Wanda’s training abroad, and when she saw the familiar techniques in action, she wasn’t surprised. But what followed next was unexpected.
With renewed focus, Bianca launched her own counter-attack—once again executing the very same three-set combination Wanda had used. This time, Wanda was unprepared.
Wanda’s eyes widened in surprise as she struggled to block the onslaught. With each punch Bianca threw, she was forced to retreat step by step, her defense crumbling in the face of Bianca’s newfound determination.
Shock surged through Wanda’s chest. How had this happened? She had thought herself invincible, but Bianca had matched her at every turn. For the first time in the fight, the balance seemed to shift.