Chapter 11: I Was Already Being Merciful by Not Settling the Score with Them

Words : 1910 Updated : Oct 17th, 2025

"Today I'll show you what the real Crushing Fist looks like. Lead the way!" Tyler spoke in a deep, steady voice, having made up his mind. "Yes!" All eight guardians perked up. Their boss had demonstrated the Crushing Fist before, but it was a killing technique; only in real combat could you taste its true essence. In that instant, Darius and Reginald even felt their wounds ache less. They straightened their backs, full of swagger, and led Tyler straight to the Jameson residence. "You punks inside, listen up! Our boss is here. Come out and die!" Planting his feet, Darius shouted with one arm hanging limp, brash as a kid who'd lost a fistfight and gone to fetch backup. He yelled it three times, but there was no response from inside. "Think they ran?" The guardians glanced at one another. "Want to go in and check?" Someone floated the idea, but no one moved-not even the one who suggested it. No. 2, No. 3, and No. 5 wore their injuries openly; barging in blind could mean walking into an ambush. Tyler let out a long sigh. In the clutch, not one man could step up. He'd hustled in Nykomar for seven years, and it was all for nothing. He had no choice but to go himself. Tyler took the lead and stepped into the Jameson residence. The place was a wreck-splintered chairs, shattered glass, toppled shelves-proof of how brutally his men had been beaten. Amid the mess, a lone figure sat with his head bowed, calmly sorting medicinal herbs as if nothing around him mattered. "Was it you who hurt the Glory Gang's men?" Tyler's voice cracked like a whip. The other man kept silent, eyes fixed on the herbs. He scrutinized each root, turning it over and over before deciding whether to toss it or keep it. "So, no answer? I'll take that as an admission." Tyler gave a cold laugh. "Don't think just because you came out of that place you can run wild. For the record, I came from there too. Back then I missed the cut by one point." The Valley of Villains held an annual trial scored out of a hundred. Sixty was passing. Tyler had the pitiful score of fifty-nine-top dog among the rejects. He thought dropping that would draw some reaction. Still nothing. The man seemed deaf, focused on the herbs. Since leaving the Valley of Villains, Tyler had never been ignored like this. The eight guardians who'd followed him in couldn't stand it. "Boss, quit talking!" "Put him down!" "Teach him what happens when you poke a hornet's nest-and that you don't mess with the boss!" Tyler ground his teeth. "Since you don't know what's good for you, I'll stop being polite." He stomped forward two steps. Thud, thud! The whole villa seemed to shudder twice. "Awesome!" "The boss's move is unreal!" The eight guardians felt their spirits soar. No. 5, Maximus, who fancied himself decent at the Crushing Fist, stared; this opening alone left him in the dust. Thud, thud! Tyler took two more steps. The Crushing Fist was named for the eight steps that built its power. Complete all eight, and the punch crashed down like a mountain. In a typical fight, though, an opponent would never let you load all eight. After the fourth step, Tyler set himself to strike. Yet his opponent still sat there, head unraised. "Bad luck you might dodge; bring it on yourself and you'll pay for it." Only a fool passed up a free shot. He shifted from a four-step charge to the full eight. At the eighth step, Tyler shot out like an arrow loosed from a bowstring. "Too strong!" "Way too strong!" All eight guardians gave him a thumbs-up. They had never seen their boss go all out; with that power, never mind a man-even a tiger would be beaten to death. Tyler was pleased himself. If he'd thrown this punch during the trial seven years ago, he'd have scored at least sixty-one. Just when he thought the fight was won, the man lifted his head. A razor gaze. A familiar face. Tyler felt as if he'd fallen into an ice pit. His fist was still driving forward. He wrenched his body with all his strength, forcing his punch off target. Boom! He didn't hit the man. He smashed into the wall. A gaping hole opened in the concrete, the edges crumbling. "How do you miss from that close?" "Impossible to miss. The boss did it on purpose." "Didn't you see that kid freeze? The boss must think killing him outright is no fun." "He'll keep him alive and take his time!" They chattered on. The next second, their boss Tyler dropped to his knees with a thump, pressed his forehead to the floor, and begged in a rush, "Young Valley Master, I truly didn't know it was you. I was wrong, I deserve to die…" Not in his wildest dreams had Tyler imagined that the man he'd dismissed as a fellow reject was in fact the nightmare of everyone in the Valley of Villains-Young Valley Master Otto Nicholson. Tyler's love of hot springs had come from Otto. Back in the day, Otto had hurled him into an ice hole and left him there three days and three nights. Otto had been thirteen. "What's going on?" The eight guardians gaped. It had been all advantage-opponent too scared to raise a hand-and suddenly their boss knelt. They racked their brains and still couldn't figure it out. "Start by breaking your own arm." Otto glanced at Tyler and spoke in a light tone. "Yes!" Without a flicker of hesitation, Tyler raised his right palm and slammed it down onto his left arm. Bone shattered to dust. His left arm hung limp. "The Glory Gang has no reason to exist." Otto went on. "I'll disband the Glory Gang right away," Tyler said, cutting off the thought before it could take root. Then, careful, he asked, "Young Valley Master, any other orders?" "This villa was fine before you lot wrecked it. Fix what needs fixing, replace what needs replacing." Otto pointed around the room. "No problem, no problem." Tyler kept nodding. "That's all. Get lost." Otto waved them off, already sick of them. "Okay, okay." As if he'd been granted a pardon, Tyler scrambled to his feet. He found the eight guardians still frozen, and he hissed under his breath, "Do you want to die? Move." They snapped out of it and hurried after him. They ran at least six miles. When Tyler finally looked back and felt sure Otto hadn't followed, he dropped onto the ground. "Boss, who was that guy?" No. 2, Darius, couldn't hold it in. He'd hoped the boss would avenge his ruined arm. Instead, the boss had added another to the tally-self-inflicted. "Don't ask what you shouldn't." Still shaken, Tyler said, "Bottom line-if you ever see him, walk the long way around. The farther, the better." "What do we tell the Lawson Group?" No. 5, Maximus, asked after a beat. "Tell them? My ass! They're lucky I'm not going after them to settle the score. They dragged us into something we never should've touched and damn near got me killed!" Tyler gnashed his teeth as he spoke.

Chapter 11: I Was Already Being Merciful by Not Settling the Score with Them

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