Chapter 53: King of the Hill!

Chapter 53: King of the Hill!

"No, the man I will marry is not you but Rick Lee."

Alex Renaldo looked exactly like he had been violently slapped across the face. Up until that exact second, I hadn't been paying close attention to their conversation, but if Tina felt the sudden need to kiss me so deeply and openly in front of a crowd like this, it meant the guy was getting way too pushy. I turned my attention directly to Alex, executing a quick tactical social pivot.

"Oh, sorry about that, man," I said, pitching my voice to sound entirely sympathetic. "But I actually just came straight from Tina's house tonight and officially accepted her proposal, so of course you wouldn't have caught wind of the news yet. Plus, you went entirely overseas for your business operations, and I just happened to step in and scoop her up while you were gone. Finding out the woman you wanted has moved on with another guy must really sting. I am seriously sorry, man. Tell you what—let's swap out that coffee invitation for some cold beers instead, and we can drown our sorrows together."

Nailed it. I glanced around the rest stop, soaking in the stunned expressions of the surrounding syndicate members. Acting Basic lets me put on a kind young master air about me, allowing me to maintain a completely calm, polite exterior, and at this rate, I am definitely going to make this system skill climb all the way to Advanced in my lifetime.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed the famous actress lady standing near the limo seemed to immediately pick up on my performance. A knowing grin formed on her lips, watching me closely as if she understood exactly what I was doing. I mentally noted that detail; people who spent their entire lives working on professional film sets are always going to notice when someone is putting on an act.

Alex’s hand trembled with rage as he pointed a finger directly at my chest, turning his gaze back to Tina. "For years now, you have been actively supporting the idea of me marrying you, and only since the Prom do you suddenly throw away my genuine love? You choose a complete nobody to replace me just like that? Do not embarrass the Feng family with your rebellious nature, Tina. You cannot legally marry him anyway. I already have a strict verbal agreement with your father. You picked me to be your husband."

Tina rolled her eyes in complete dismissal, casually leaning her body weight right into my side. I smoothly slid my arm across her bare, exposed shoulder, the slick crimson vinyl of her dress sliding against my jacket as she spoke down to him.

"I guess you completely failed to get the hint when I walked away and left you standing completely alone on that dance floor?" Tina countered, her voice flat and dripping with unamused sarcasm. "I was young and naive back then, and I thought you were some kind of charming prince. But no... it turns out you are just a common frog desperately trying to eat swan meat."

I shifted my focus away from Alex, pointing a finger over toward Scott Tang. He was currently standing near the edge of the limousine looking entirely too comfortable, so I decided to drag his ass right into the middle of this mess.

"Hey, cousin," I called out loudly, a mocking grin on my face. "Why did you even bring this old man up the mountain tonight just to get publicly rejected? You really love instigating people and stirring up drama, don't you?"

Pressing that specific internal button was the absolute fastest way to completely shatter Scotty's composure. He immediately bellowed across the pavement, his face turning an angry shade of purple.

"You are absolutely NOT my cousin, you bastard piece of trash!"

"But didn't Uncle Anthony explicitly tell you to play nice with me?" I replied, tilting my head innocently. "Man, it’s only been one single night and you have already completely forgotten our family dinner."

Alex was absolutely livid that I had successfully diverted his grand love confession. Between that and me heavily implying he was an old man, his temper completely snapped. He stepped forward, pointing aggressively at my face.

"Look here, you little schoolchild nobody," Alex snarled. "You need to keep your mouth completely shut while Tina and I straighten out our mutual misunderstanding."

I glanced down at Tina, noticing she looked incredibly happy with the exact way I was systematically agitating both men. The one thing she knew about my combat philosophy was how I consistently threw my enemies entirely off balance using targeted anger.

"This old guy seriously has some massive anger management issues," I remarked to the surrounding crowd, keeping my tone casual. "And apparently, he loves inappropriately touching high school girls on dance floors, right?"

Alex was thoroughly pissed that a common-looking brat in a suit, a kid with absolutely no visible background or high-end status, was openly mocking him. His fists clenched tightly at his sides, his posture shifting into a distinct physical alignment. Watching his weight distribution and joint angles, my hardwired combat training instantly went to work. I analyzed his martial arts background, recognizing the exact mechanics.

"Ah," I muttered, my eyes widening slightly. "You are an expert in the tactical use of Krav Maga. Nice. That is a very solid, efficient fighting style for dealing with street engagements. It's easily one of the better components of modern mixed martial arts. It looks like you spent time learning those physical forms over in North America, right?"

Every ounce of Alex's building rage suddenly dimmed, a flash of caution crossing his blue eyes as he realized I had accurately diagnosed his entire fighting style with a single glance. He was probably wondering if Tina had explicitly fed me that tactical information. He remembered that Tina had officially ranked me as Number Two in the local hierarchy, forcing him to adopt a much more cautious stance.

I simply smiled back at him. This guy possessed far better impulse control than Scott, who was still visibly vibrating with pure, unadulterated fury next to him.

"Rick Lee, right?" Alex said, his voice dropping into a low, threatening register. "You do realize you are absolutely not allowed to cross that physical boundary during the tournament format, or you will end up being hunted down like a dog?"

"Alex Renaldo, you need to remember that we are both bound under the exact same syndicate agreement," I countered smoothly, stepping closer to Tina. "So do not go trying to start a physical altercation without dealing with Number Five first, okay? Besides, you currently have the famous movie star Ana Zi standing right at your side, and you are really neglecting her feelings."

I made sure to project my voice loudly enough for the massive crowd we had gathered to hear every single syllable. The moment the street racers and syndicate members noticed the beautiful woman trying to hide among the other wives, the attention of the entire parking lot shifted completely to her.

Yes, she might have been considered second in terms of raw acting talent compared to the main lead, but her cinematic skills were undeniable.

However, the dark rumors floating around the local industry suggested she had spent a considerable amount of time on the casting couch just to secure her roles. I didn't know if that gossip was factually true, nor did I particularly care, but her presence here was the perfect tool for causing massive social trouble.

Ana Zi let out a soft, elegant sigh, looking directly at me. "That was really not very nice of you, Mr. Lee. I was honestly just trying to stay completely low-key tonight."

"My bad, Miss Zi," I replied with a polite bow, letting a hint of mockery show in my eyes. "But your date is currently bothering my date, so I had to put him under the exact same spotlight. Please forgive me."

She turned her head away from me, directing a cold, sharp look at Alex. "I will be waiting inside the limousine until you are entirely finished embarrassing the two of us out here. Goodbye, Mr. Lee."

With those final words, the beautiful actress turned on her heel, immediately getting hounded by a dozen shouting fans as she made her way back to the luxury vehicle. Alex stared dead at me, his brow furrowing deeply as he realized he had been completely outmaneuvered by my social tricks. He shot a final glare at Tina before turning back to Scott.

"Tina, you are the love of my life, so do not ever forget that," Alex stated coldly. "You can play around with this little boy for a bit, but do not dare cross that line with him, or his life is completely forfeit. Scott, I am going to join my date."

With heavy, furious steps, Alex turned and marched straight back to the limousine to join the actress.

I shifted my gaze over to Bob, a wide smile spreading across my face. He was the exact same elite guard I had forcefully dropped straight into the porcelain pisser during our first encounter.

"How is it going, Bob?" I asked, my voice dripping with casual amusement. "I was always curious—do those urinal cakes actually taste good or what? Oh, and Jack, brother, make sure you securely lock the bathroom stall doors from now on to keep the local Bobs out."

Both bodyguards instantly flushed red with anger, stepping forward simultaneously to teach me another physical lesson. But before they could take more than two steps, Tina made a sharp, distinct gesture with her black-gloved hand. In perfect synchronization, every single member of the Fire Birds surrounding the parking zone drew their weapons, the sharp sound of unfolding blades ringing out through the night air.

In the continent of Eurasia, the deployment of firearms is certainly not unknown, but guns are rarely utilized in standard, day-to-day conflicts. High-level engagements involving corporate rooftops or the elite Monks are the rare exceptions to the rule. Out here, the vast majority of personal disputes are settled through raw physical fights, exactly like the ones at my high school. Unlike the social rules of my first Earth, the honorable way to settle an issue in this world is with bare fists and handheld melee weapons. It is a fundamental reality here, just as normal as the concept of local harems.

I couldn't just let Scott walk away without completely shaming him in front of his crew, could I?

"Scotty, you seriously need to make your dumb dogs heel right now before they accidentally initiate a bloodbath," I said, pointing a thumb at his guards. "You have your four incredibly sexy wives standing right here, and they might get violently caught up in the crossfire. You are already down one personal maid, so you really need to show some proper love to the women you have left, or another man will step in and do it for you."

Naturally, a normal bystander would assume I was referencing my ongoing relationship with the twins, but due to Scott being completely traumatized by the explicit picture of my dick I had sent him, his mind immediately went somewhere else entirely. He was instantly picturing his former maid getting heavily pounded by that scummy guy. He spun around, shouting furiously at his own bodyguards.

"The two of you idiots need to stop right now!" Scott ordered, his voice echoing across the asphalt.

The surrounding crowd calmed down slightly when they heard him finally acting reasonable. But seeing an opportunity to fuel the fire even further, I decided to push the boundary.

"No, cousin, it's totally cool," I said, deliberately loud enough for everyone to hear as I unbuttoned my suit jacket a bit more. "I will gladly fight both of them right now if that's what you want. I still haven't had my fill of explicitly teaching these two dogs that this particular pig is not a pig at all."

A collective gasp of surprise rippled through the rest stop as the street racers realized I was openly volunteering for a physical brawl. Wide, excited smiles rapidly formed on dozens of faces; after all, raw fistfights are always the ultimate entertainment out here. No matter who actually wins the bout, the crowd always wins.

I opened the car door and casually tossed my grey suit jacket onto the passenger seat, followed immediately by my smartphone, watch, and hidden weapons. Now, I was standing there wearing nothing but my light button-down shirt and a pair of dark slacks, giving my body full freedom of movement.

The low-profile shoes I chose tonight possessed excellent rubber traction, making them perfect for navigating a physical engagement against these two guys. I rolled my neck from side to side, letting out a series of deep, satisfying pops as I walked straight out into the widening clearing of the asphalt.

Scott looked visibly conflicted, his jaw tight as he mentally weighed whether he should actually allow this unsanctioned street fight to kick off right in front of his family.

I consciously loosened my muscle groups, shifting my body weight slightly to adopt a traditional, low-center Jujitsu stance. This time, I decided to explicitly deploy combat forms originating from the historic Japan Empire. This specific art is highly renowned for its devastating efficiency in ground grappling, complex joint locks, and rapid bone-dislocation techniques. The literal definition of the name loosely translates to whatever works, making it an absolute pinnacle style for handling close-quarters street violence.

I leaned my weight backward, placing my left leg slightly forward while raising both hands into a relaxed, forward-facing grabbing gesture. I held my fingers loosely, looking exactly like a guy who was casually preparing to swat a couple of annoying bugs—well, two massive ones, to be exact. Tina turned her head, calling out across the clearing to ensure her voice carried over the murmuring crowd.

"Rick, make sure you thoroughly entertain me right here and I will give you a spectacular reward afterward. Go ahead and mess them up completely for me."

I gave Tina a quick, silent thumbs-up over my shoulder without breaking my forward focus, slowly closing the physical distance between myself and the guards. Both of these men, unfortunately for them, only operated at a Basic technical proficiency level. For the current version of me, stepping into the ring against them felt less like a real battle and more like pure physical bullying.

Jack was a trained practitioner of traditional North American boxing mechanics. Inside a clean canvas ring under strict athletic regulations, you absolutely cannot out-box a professional boxer, but out here on the raw asphalt, their style sucks ass. Their entire lower-body framework operates like it is a full skill tier lower than their actual upper-body striking level, leaving them with almost zero technical defense against advanced judo throws or low-angle leg sweeps.

Bob, on the other hand, was a practitioner of traditional university-style Judo, which is essentially just a highly modified, cushioned version of traditional Jujitsu tailored for safe point-scoring and basic takedowns. In terms of raw, real-world combat effectiveness, it was roughly comparable to a basic Karate framework.

I wasn't trying to explicitly knock the value of modern martial arts; every single physical style on earth possesses its own unique set of pros and cons.

But in a real-world violent encounter, possessing an immediate structural understanding of your enemy's exact strengths and structural weaknesses is the absolute pivot point to securing a victory.

Thanks to the raw knowledge hardwired into my mind by my Kung-Fu Grandmaster skill, which was easily the greatest asset left behind by the System, I could instantly cycle through different physical forms to perfectly counter my opponents' exact movement habits mid-battle.

Scott was currently buckling under the intense social pressure of the surrounding street racing crowd. He knew for a fact he would lose a massive amount of face if he backed down from a challenge now, so he offered a reluctant, sharp nod to signal his bodyguards to execute.

This entire incident would undoubtedly make its way back to his father, and the sheer fact that Scott had deliberately tracked me down up here within a short twenty-four-hour window proved he was acting out of pure spite.

Regrettably, I hadn't found a single free window of time to perform my standard digital hacking routines to listen in on what had actually transpired between the father, the son, and the mother over at the Tang estate. But once school wrapped up tomorrow afternoon, I should easily be able to carve out a few quiet hours to handle the network breach.

Eavesdropping on high-level corporate targets requires a massive amount of manual processing time, and it simply isn't the kind of task a single human being can manage continuously on their own. Moving forward, I would need to look into writing a customized AI algorithm capable of parsing through massive audio logs for me to filter out the useless digital bullshit. But high-tier AI scripts aren't the kind of programming scripts you can just magically compile in a week or two, despite what modern movies and fiction books would try to tell you.

Bob suddenly sprinted toward my left side while I was mid-calculation, his heavy boots slapping against the road. A split second later, Jack accelerated toward my right side, executing a classic flanking maneuver.

Structurally speaking, this is the absolute best way to manage a two-on-one combat engagement, forcing an attack straight from the opponent's blind spot. The two of them had consistently relied on this exact tactical strategy to overwhelm me in the past—one guy would securely pin my arms from behind while the free man brutally beat my torso into a pulp.

So if you ever find yourself facing two aggressive opponents attempting this exact maneuver, how do you successfully avoid getting pinned? The first and most mathematically sound method is to consistently position one foe directly between yourself and the second attacker, forming a perfect straight line. This is the absolute best defensive posture because it physically limits the spatial geometry, ensuring only one man can physically strike you at any given microsecond.

But if you can't establish that line due to tight spatial limitations or highly intelligent fighters, you have to rely on other physical options. The next best alternative is to force the engagement with a solid brick wall or a concrete corner securely behind your back. While this can occasionally limit your own mobility, it offers a massive structural advantage by cutting down the number of physical directions an attack can legally come from.

Of course, the most practical but socially cowardly move is to simply turn on your heel, sprint in the opposite direction, and pray your lungs are in better shape than the two retards chasing you. But you should absolutely never run blindly into an unfamiliar area, or you risk getting pinned in a dead end by a pair of furious men who just had to sprint a mile to catch you.

The final and most effective option if running isn't a viable choice is to aggressively attack first to force one of two specific tactical outcomes. First, you can instantly neutralize one of the two targets to turn the battle into a standard one-on-one fight, though that requires massive striking precision.

Second, you can physically manipulate the first attacker's body weight to throw him directly into the path of the second opponent, utilizing leverage techniques like a classic shoulder throw or dragging manipulation.

With Bob predictably charging forward first exactly like he always did, my Kung-Fu Grandmaster skill let me seamlessly lock into a strict Jujitsu counter-framework specifically tailored for this exact encounter.

Bob’s right arm swung forward in a heavy, looping right hook, a classic distraction strike intended to force my guard up so he could easily grapple my torso with his extended left hand. Meanwhile, Jack was moving rapidly into my right blind spot, clearly operating under the assumption that I hadn't detected his approach.

But I kept a vital piece of combat data active in my calculations: Jack was still actively suffering from the four cracked ribs I had forcefully driven my knuckles into back inside that corporate bathroom stall. When you are engaged in real physical violence, you must consistently identify your enemy's exact bodily weaknesses and exploit them without a shred of hesitation. There is only honor left for the dead.

Predicting their exact timing, I snapped my left forearm upward to cleanly block Bob's incoming hook at the wrist. In the exact same microsecond, I formed a rigid knife-hand with my right fingers and drove a lightning-fast strike straight into his exposed left armpit—the exact arm he was attempting to use for his follow-up grapple. My rigid hand struck the dense nerve clusters nesting inside the armpit joint, instantly sending a numbing wave of neurological trauma shooting down his left arm, completely shattering his ability to follow up with a punch or a grab.

Before he could even register the neurological shock, the left hand I had used to block his hook clamped down tightly around his right wrist. I executed a sharp, violent twist of his arm, producing an unpleasant, wet dislocating crack from his carpal bones. Without pausing, my right hand slithered fluidly under his right arm, establishing a textbook over-the-shoulder lever. I spun on my heel, converting his forward momentum into a massive shoulder throw that sent Bob's heavy frame flying directly into the path of an incoming Jack, who was just about to launch a punch at my head.

Jack was instantly forced to make a split-second choice: he could either try to physically catch his airborne partner or step completely out of the way.

He instinctually took a rapid step backward, opting to completely avoid getting flattened by the massive Bob-sandbag rolling through the air.

THUD!

Now, you have to remember that as Bob gracefully flipped over my shoulder and slammed violently flat onto his back and rear, he wasn't landing on a soft training mat; he was crashing directly onto the unforgiving, coarse asphalt of a mountain parking lot. Ouch.

"AHHH! Ugh—!"

Bob let out a loud, panicked bellow while flying through the air, but the sound was abruptly cut short the moment his torso connected with the road.

The sheer kinetic impact completely knocked every single ounce of oxygen clean out of his lungs, leaving him entirely stunned on the ground. Seeing that my left hand was still firmly anchoring Bob's right arm to the pavement, Jack attempted to rapidly close the distance to stomp on my head.

CRACK!

Predicting this blindingly obvious forward rush, I delivered a sudden, violent jerk and a counter-clockwise twist to Bob’s pinned right arm, cleanly tearing his humerus out of its shoulder socket. Executing a clean dislocation like this was incredibly simple when combining the structural mechanics of my Kung-Fu Grandmaster skill with the anatomical precision of my Medicine Advanced knowledge.

With Bob groaning in agony directly between myself and Jack, the blonde boxer couldn't easily mount a direct forward charge. I decided to utilize Bob's prone body to execute a classic, flashy street-fighting maneuver.

Using Bob's chest as a literal launching pad, I leaped high into the air, clearing his torso entirely as I extended both legs to drive a twin-double dropkick straight into Jack's incoming chest.

Thud-Thud!

Jack let out a sharp gasp, his boots scraping against the asphalt as he staggered backward three full steps. His raised forearms simply didn't possess the structural power required to completely absorb the kinetic energy of a flying dropkick.

And that was only the first half of the tactical sequence. As gravity rapidly pulled my weight back down toward the road, I tucked my right arm close, aiming my sharp elbow downward to drive a diving strike straight into the center of the struggling Bob's chest.

Thud! Crack!

The diving elbow connected flawlessly with his rib cage. Judging by the blunt, crushing sensation of landing directly on his torso like a heavy pillow, my medical instincts immediately confirmed I had snapped at least two of his ribs and potentially fractured his sternum.

I didn't waste a single second of focus on Bob now that he was completely removed from the battle framework. I bounded back up to my feet, spinning around to face a completely bewildered Jack, who was desperately trying to reset his boxing guard to defend himself.

I mentally reviewed the two fundamental combat lessons: the structural weakness of a standard boxer's stance and the preexisting trauma of my enemy's body. It was time to clear the board.

Swoosh—Thud!

Dropping my center of gravity low onto my left foot, I spun my right leg outward in a wide, low backwards sweep, mimicking a classic dragon's tail maneuver. My heel clipped cleanly against both of Jack's ankles, completely sweeping his feet out from underneath him and sending him crashing painfully flat onto the hard asphalt. He barely managed to tuck his chin to keep the back of his skull from violently cracking against the road, but the structural engagement was already entirely over for him.

As his back hit the pavement, I loomed over his frame like a shadow. I drove my knees tightly over his thighs to completely lock his hips, preventing him from rolling away, and unleashed a rapid-fire flurry of four precise punches.

Thud-Crack! Thud-Crack! Thud-Crack! Thud-Crack!

I drove all four rapid strikes directly into the exact same cluster of four ribs I had previously cracked inside that bathroom stall. I made absolutely sure the bone structures were completely shattered this time around, ensuring his physical ability to perform corporate guard duty would be completely compromised for a long time to come. Life was going to be an absolute living hell for this bastard for the next few months.

I snapped back up into a standing position, checking my immediate surroundings to verify that Scott wasn't attempting to join in on the action. Slowly walking back over to Tina's side, I casually brushed down my slacks and adjusted my button-down shirt, verifying that the physical exertion hadn't accidentally ripped any of my clothing buttons.

A massive wave of cheers and loud clapping instantly erupted from the surrounding street racers. Dozens of onlookers loved the sheer violence of the spectacle, holding up their smartphones to record the entire breakdown. I had committed entirely to the physical forms, making the entire sequence look like a flawless, highly choreographed action scene straight off a big-budget movie set.

A few of the regulars who knew I was still completely undefeated in the downhill runs and had just witnessed the entire beatdown began chanting a nickname for me, the sound echoing across the asphalt rest stop. It was honestly a pretty cool feeling.

"King of the Hill! King of the Hill! King of the Hill!"

Tina squinted her golden eyes slightly, stepping closer to wrap her black-gloved hand firmly around my arm again. She leaned up toward my shoulder, her warm breath hitting my ear as she whispered.

"Hmm. Yes, I was highly satisfied with your physical performance just now, so later on tonight I will absolutely give you a proper reward, my Dragon."

Inside the quiet cabin of Scott's luxury limousine, both Alex Renaldo and Ana Zi sat entirely stunned, looking a bit speechless after watching the absolute destruction of the two guards through the tinted glass. Ana let out a soft, melodic chuckle, a highly amused smile playing on her lips.

"Your little friend Scott is a complete idiot," Ana remarked, shifting her gaze back to the window. "Even I can easily see that this boy is amazing, fufu. I might even have to look into putting him straight into my web."

Alex, visibly agitated by her reaction, frowned deeply.

"Hey, you are my date tonight," Alex snapped, his voice tight. "Why the hell are you looking at a kid like him? But... I have to admit I was genuinely surprised by his raw fighting capability. I think his combat mechanics are easily on the exact same tier as me and Woo. I definitely cannot afford to look down on his abilities after all. For Tina to favor him like that is clearly not without a practical reason. Well, it's time to go find Number 5 and provoke him into a match."

Ana turned her head, offering the handsome blonde man a cool, calculated look.

"Only my actual future husband has the right to tell me who I can and cannot play with," Ana stated smoothly, her voice full of a practiced actress charm. "So you already know exactly what it is going to take if you want to permanently be with me, Alex. If you are not willing to put up the required stakes, then you need to shut up. Just enjoy my company until you are actually committed to a marriage contract."

"I just have to wait to secure that Number One spot until after this tournament format wraps up," Alex promised, a sharp determination entering his blue eyes. "I will place either you or Tina into that coveted first-wife position, so just wait for me to clear the board. It won't take more than a couple of months tops."

"Well, you better not take too long," Ana teased, her voice dropping into a sultry purr. "Or I might just go ahead and seduce that kid out there instead. I can feel it in my instincts; that boy is going places. Plus, his physical acting skills are surprisingly polished. I think he must have been the absolute star of his high school drama club or something, or maybe he is currently taking advanced university acting courses?"

Alex didn't say another word, immediately pulling Ana forcefully into his arms across the leather interior and beginning to passionately kiss her to assert his dominance.