With a thunderous crash, Zane Lee's determined charge was halted by a mysterious silhouette. A fist, swift as a hawk and silent as the night, connected with Zane's jaw, sending him staggering backward, his chest heaving as if trying to draw breath from a vacuum. Blood, bright as a cardinal's feather, began to blossom at the corner of his mouth. Yet, through the pallor of his skin, a defiant fire still burned in his eyes.
Evan Campbell, leaning against the wall with a viper’s grin, taunted, "They call you the tiger of King City? Looks more like you're just a paper tiger."
With a sneer, Zane spat out a bloody rebuttal and lunged forward once more, fists clenched like twin hammers of wrath. But the dance of fists that followed was a brutal ballet. Zane’s swings were met with the guard's ste
