Chapter 122 The Cat That Hunts Snakes

Just as Howard lunged, that redirected kick slammed straight into the weakest part of his right arm. A sharp crack rang out, and his bone had fractured cleanly.

“Ahhh!”

His right arm was useless now. Even someone like Howard couldn’t stop himself from screaming in agony. His face flushed deep red, bloodshot eyes wide with pain. Sweat burst from his forehead in an instant, soaking his entire body. Clutching his shattered arm, he dropped to his knees, howling nonstop.

“Wrestling world champ? Please, you’re nothing but trash.”

Tilda wasn’t about to let him catch his breath. She followed up with a clean, brutal left hook straight to Howard’s face.

Bang!

Despite weighing nearly 170 pounds, Howard was sent flying into the wall by Tilda’s punch. Anyone watching would’ve sworn she was cheating. Sure, Tilda stood a solid 5’7", but she couldn’t have weighed more than 100 pounds soaking wet. A hundred-pound girl landing a punch strong enough to knock a 6’3", perfectly built, former world wrestling champion into a wall? Basically impossible.

Yet, Tilda did exactly that. One of Howard’s teeth flew out from the impact. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, thick and sticky as it hit the floor. Tilda slammed her foot down onto his face.

“You thought I ran away on purpose? Nah. I just wanted a quiet place with no witnesses and no cameras, so I could beat the hell out of you. You really think being born a Jenson makes you better than everyone? Think a gold medal makes you unstoppable? In my eyes, you’re nothing but a smug little puppet, strutting around the spotlight, clueless that someone else is pulling your strings.”

Tilda hated Wade’s fake charm, and hated Howard’s arrogance even more. But this time, it was Howard who chased her down, and Howard who threw the first punch.

So, Tilda gave Howard a taste of his own medicine. She shattered his flashy, hollow defense using the very move he thought was his greatest weapon. She stomped his pride straight into the ground.

Looking at Howard now–helpless, unable to fight back… Mmm. It felt damn good.

Tilda slammed her foot into his face again and again, like she was trying to grind his mouth into pulp. That mouth had spit out more insults than she could count, every word like a knife back when she was still the old Tilda… the weak one. Now, she was here to settle the score.

That spineless waste of space–this Howard–was the man she once gave everything for? Hell no. He wasn’t worth a damn thing.

Blood filled Howard’s mouth, thick with the taste of iron. His right arm screamed in pain, his face throbbed, but worse than any of that was the sting in his pride and his heart. Furious, Howard’s face turned bright red as he let out a deafening, animalistic roar. He lashed out with his good arm–his left–throwing it forward with everything he had, but he didn’t touch a thing. Tilda had already spun back and retreated, widening the gap between them.

“Tilda!” he roared.

By now, Howard had completely lost it. He didn’t care that she was a woman, didn’t care she was his little sister. All he wanted was to crush the bastard who humiliated him. Every throb of pain, every ounce of shame fueled him.

He shot to his feet like a wild animal and lunged, swinging his left fist at her. This punch–fueled by rage and pain–was beyond full force. It was everything he had, and then some. That fist, the size of a small boulder, sliced through the air like it was tearing it open. Tilda didn’t doubt for a second–if that hit landed, anywhere on her body, it could be deadly.

But-

“Too slow,” Tilda sneered.

Back when her mentor took her in, Tilda had learned inner force under their guidance. And once she stepped into the dark web world, always planning ahead, she never let up on her training. She knew this was her trump card, her survival skill. Thanks to the innate gifts of her Omega-type traits, Tilda had always picked things up with ridiculous speed, mastering skills in record time. She had refined her inner force to near-perfection, pushing her body past normal human limits. It was a level of control and transformation that someone like Howard, who’d only ever relied on brute force and strict training, could never reach.

The inner force flowed through her like a current. Her body felt weightless, even her eyes sparkled with clarity and precision. In her vision, Howard’s movements were playing in slow motion. If Howard was a venomous snake, Tilda was the cat waiting to strike. It didn’t matter how deadly the snake’s fangs or venom were. For Tilda, one slip could mean total disaster. But with reflexes like a cat’s and eyes locked in with razor focus, that snake never even stood a chance of touching her.

Speed always trumps brute force.

Tilda dodged Howard’s rage-fueled punch with ease. She twisted to the side, energy surging through her, and unleashed a devastating uppercut right to Howard’s jaw.

To his credit, Howard was a former world wrestling champ. Even if his mind was clouded with rage, his powerful instincts still kicked in the moment danger struck. That sixth sense saved his life just barely.