Chapter 450

In the world of martial arts, even death was considered the fault of the deceased if the unspoken rules of the ring were followed. With the Madblade Martial Academy's influence in Jayrodale, the loss of a life or two was insignificant; easily swept under the rug.

Ivan lowered his crossed arms, a mocking smile playing on his lips. He gestured at Andrew with a beckoning motion.

“Kid, I’ll give you the first move. If you can get close to me, or even touch my clothes, I’ll admit defeat.”

His arrogance dwarfed even Jerry’s, yet no one dared laugh. Everyone believed Ivan possessed the strength to match his confidence.

Jerry coughed twice and muttered, “Mr. Lincoln isn't just some random nobody. It’s a shame I can’t figure out who he really is. Andrew’s chances don’t look good.”

On the platform, Andrew strolled casually toward Ivan, his movements unhurried. “Since you’re being so polite, I won’t hold back.”

Andrew’s calm response provoked another round of laughter from Rodney’s group.

“What an idiot! Does this loser really think he can fight Mr. Lincoln?”

“Mr. Lincoln’s not showing courtesy—he’s displaying absolute dominance. This kid is too dumb to see it.”

“I’m betting he won’t last a single round before spitting blood!”

“Single round? That’s generous. I say half a round, tops!”

Andrew launched his first punch—a seemingly light jab aimed at Ivan’s face. Ivan sneered and shifted his footing, intending to dodge easily.

However, his confidence wavered as he noticed something odd. Despite stepping six feet to the side, Andrew’s fist seemed locked onto him, growing larger in his field of view.

Ivan attempted a more intricate step, pivoting to a new angle. Yet, the fist followed, unyielding. A heavy crunch echoed through the air as Andrew’s fist landed squarely on Ivan’s nose.

The arena fell silent. Stunned stillness replaced all sound and breath.

Andrew pulled back his fist with a small smile. “Thanks for the opportunity.”

A sickening crack shattered the silence as Ivan’s nose collapsed, blood streaming down his face. His once-dominant aura vanished as the spectators stared in utter disbelief.

Ivan wiped his bleeding nose, his face twisting in rage. “How dare you hit me! You’re asking for death!”

With a roar, Ivan’s powerful leg snapped forward like a coiled spring, aiming for Andrew’s head.

However, Andrew deflected the strike with minimal effort, saying coolly, “Using internal martial arts alongside kick techniques? You’ve got a mixed style going. Unfortunately, you lack harmony in your technique.”

Ivan’s face darkened, his confidence shattered. He wondered how such a soft-looking punch could break his nose—a body he’d trained to withstand brutal force.

Bellowing furiously, he launched into an aggressive attack, both fists shooting out in a ferocious Double Dragon Strike, the wind from his punches howling through the air.

Lauren smirked from the sidelines. “Didn’t Mr. Lincoln claim that he’d admit defeat if Dr. Lloyd got close to him? But look at him now—bloodied and panicking. Seems like someone’s temper’s flaring!”

Ivan roared mid-attack, “Shut up! If I don’t tear this kid into pieces today, I’ll never live it down!”