Chapter 4 Where's My Money

"What did you just say?" Golden Man roared, his neck muscles bulging, eyes widening like twin brass bells. His skin glinted like burnished copper under the arena lights. He looked as if he might lunge at Ryan and rip him apart on the spot. The skinny kid in front of him-who resembled a twig he could snap with one hand-had just declared he could defeat Kong in a single move.

A hush fell over the crowd. People turned, murmuring in disbelief, some standing up to get a better look.

Even Taylor, calm and composed as always, was caught off guard. She hadn't expected Ryan to make such a bold claim, not in this pit, not against someone like Kong-also known as Golden Man, a local legend in New Cloud's underground fighting scene.

Jack, the club's owner, leaned back in his chair, the corners of his mouth lifting in amusement. "Normally," he began slowly, his voice smooth as oil, "we don't offer bets like this. People wager on winners and losers, not on how fast a fight ends. But today... I'll make an exception." He raised two fingers. "If you truly believe you can take Golden Man down in one move, I'll give you twenty-to-one odds."

Gasps rippled through the room. Twenty times the bet? That was an enormous payout. People looked at each other with wide eyes, struggling to comprehend whether this was lunacy or some kind of scam.

Ryan nodded, unfazed. "I'll put my entire commission from this match-one hundred thousand."

Jack whistled, clearly enjoying himself. "Done. Any other takers? No betting limits this time."

Laughter erupted from the crowd.

"Jack, you've been stingy with bets before, and now you're letting us throw money at you? You must be licking your lips."

"A single move to defeat Golden Man? That's the joke of the century. That kid's lucky if he doesn't get knocked out in one punch."

Jack remained silent, his smirk growing. He wasn't worried-no one in their right mind would put money on Ryan. This was free profit.

Then, a voice cut through the chatter.

"I'll bet one million that Ryan takes Golden Man down in one move."

The crowd froze, heads turning toward the speaker.

It was Taylor.

The murmurs turned into open disbelief.

"Miss Taylor," someone scoffed. "Even if you're rich, you don't need to hand your money over to Jack this easily."

"You seriously believe in this kid?"

Taylor's lips curled into a knowing smile. "I brought Ryan here, so I might as well back him. Besides, what's a million? Just for fun."

To her, the money was insignificant. But deep down, she had a hunch-Ryan wasn't just throwing out empty boasts. There was something about the calm in his voice, the unshakable stillness in his eyes. It wasn't arrogance. It was certainty.

Jack clapped his hands. "Alright, Miss Taylor's million is in. Now, let's begin!"

The crowd surged toward the ring like water toward a cliff, eager to witness the bloodbath.

Golden Man stepped forward, cracking his knuckles, his grin turning razor sharp. "Kid, you really think you can beat me in one move? Funniest thing I've heard all year."

His tone dropped into a low snarl. "I'll smash your skull in."

Ryan said nothing. He walked toward the center of the ring with the quiet, steady gait of a man strolling through a park.

Golden Man wasn't just large-he was a beast in human form, standing nearly six and a half feet tall and weighing over two hundred pounds of muscle. He moved like a freight train when he charged, his body brimming with raw, explosive energy.

In martial arts, there are three levels of mastery: Radiant-harnessing external strength; Inner Strength-controlling internal energy; and Essence-achieving harmony between heart and mind.

Golden Man had barely scratched the surface of Radiant level, but that didn't matter in most fights. He didn't need finesse-his sheer power overwhelmed opponents. Bones broke when he connected. Lives ended. His reputation had been earned in blood.

He didn't bother with a stance. He launched forward with a thundering step, the ground trembling beneath him. His fist cocked back, ready to end the match in one blow.

"This punch has killed eight people right here in Jack's club," someone jeered.

"Golden Man, crush that twig for me!"

"I lost a million last round-win me something back!" The crowd roared, already tasting blood.

Taylor's fists clenched, knuckles whitening.

Ryan didn't flinch.

"You're not even a true martial artist," he said calmly, his voice cutting through the noise. "And you think you can kill me?"

Golden Man's fist came crashing down.

At the last second, Ryan moved.

He sidestepped with ghostlike agility, his motion barely visible, like smoke curling around fire. The crowd blinked-they almost missed it.

Then, Ryan's palm shot forward.

It was not a punch. It wasn't a strike driven by brute force. It was effortless, like brushing away dust. But it connected squarely with Golden Man's chest.

The moment froze.

Golden Man sneered. "That's it? That weak slap won't even-"

Then, his face twisted.

Bang!

A deafening shockwave cracked through the air like thunder. Golden Man's body spasmed as the invisible force traveled through his frame, lifting him clean off his feet. He was hurled backward, crashing onto the floor seven meters away with a sickening thud.

Silence.

The crowd stood in stunned disbelief, eyes wide, mouths hanging open.

Seconds stretched into eternity before someone whispered, "No... no way... he actually won."

"With one move."

Gasps followed like dominoes. "How did that twig send Golden Man flying with a single palm?"

Groans of regret filled the space. "My million..."

They had expected Ryan to be the one flat on the ground, unconscious or worse. Instead, he had turned the fight on its head with a single, effortless move.

Taylor exhaled, finally releasing the breath she didn't realize she'd been holding.

Jack's mind raced. The room was still buzzing, but all he could hear was the ringing of opportunity. Ryan had just won him a fortune-he had raked in over twenty million in bets, even after paying out Taylor's winning ticket. But money wasn't the real prize here.

It was Ryan.

If he could recruit Ryan, he wouldn't just dominate the underground scene in New Cloud. He could take him to the provincial and national arenas. Sponsors, broadcasters, elite-level invitations-it was all possible now. The profits from one match could rival his entire club's yearly revenue.

Suppressing his excitement, Jack stepped forward.

"The winner of this match-Ryan!"

He clapped his hands, plastering on a warm expression. "Brother Ryan, watching you fight, I finally understand what true strength is. Heroes truly emerge from the young."

Ryan glanced at him, unmoved. "Where's my money?"

Jack hesitated, then quickly gestured to one of his men. A thick-set man stepped forward with a bank card. "Two million, password is 3322."

Jack chuckled. "Brother Ryan, I'm hosting another match this weekend. Interested? I can double your commission. We'll even bring in some real challengers this time."

Ryan took the card, slid it into his pocket, and turned away without a word.

Jack stood there, arms still open.

Ryan wasn't just strong.

He was something else. Something cold. Something silent.

He was a ghost-here one second, gone the next.

And suddenly, everyone in New Cloud's underworld knew one thing:

A new legend had arrived.