Chet looked like he had seen a ghost. He withdrew his fist and jumped back a few yards. The man’s eyes darted from Tyler to his own hand in confusion. Did the young man casually stop his powerful ironheart attack? It didn’t even appear he was hurt or budged from his position.
Chet had reinforced his fist and intended to land an attack on Dwayne’s chest, crushing his lungs and heart in the process. It would have led to instant death and a triumphant victory for him. However, Tyler’s interference foiled his plan.
Did the technique not work last time? Yes, that was more likely.
“Who the f**k are you, kid?” Chet demanded. “Are you suicidal or what? Do you want to die for a bastard like Dwayne?”
“I plan to live a long life, actually,” Tyler replied calmly.
“You got lucky, kid,” the gangste
