Chapter 11 Followed and Attacked

• The footsteps behind Finnley were light but steady, following his every move. When he sped up, so did the person behind him. There was no doubt—he was being followed.
• Finnley quickly turned into a nearby alley, listening closely as his pursuer followed him in.
• "Who are you, and why are you following me?" Finnley demanded, spinning around to confront the man.
• The man, who clearly hadn't expected Finnley to turn suddenly, froze for a moment. The two locked eyes. The man was muscular, with his exposed arms covered in tattoos that made him look anything but friendly.
• "You've got sharp instincts, I'll give you that. But being sharp won't help you now."
• Suddenly, a group of thugs with brightly colored, spiky hair flooded into the alley, carrying weapons like stun batons and clubs.
• "Kid, you must think you're real tough, beating up our boy, Brock."
• "Ah, so you're Brock's crew," Finnley mused, struck with an epiphany. "I was wondering who you were. What's the plan? He couldn't take me, so now he sent you to get revenge?"
• "Exactly. Now, if you kneel and beg for mercy, we might let you off easy. But if you resist, well, things won't end well for you."
• "Oh yeah? I'd love to see how that plays out."
• The gang leader scowled. "Looks like you're gonna choose the hard way! Boys, get him!"
• At his command, the group of thugs rushed at Finnley. But despite their numbers and weapons, they were no match for him. Finnley took them down one by one, each punch landing with brutal precision, leaving the alley echoing with their groans of pain. Within a minute, the gang was sprawled on the ground, completely defeated.
• "Is that all you've got? How pathetic," Finnley sneered, brushing his hands off. "You'd better go home and train for a few more decades before you challenge me again."
• "I shall challenge you then!"
• Suddenly, a powerful gust of wind rushed toward Finnley's head. A swift and heavy punch aimed directly at him!
• But Finnley's reflexes were far too sharp. After years of surviving in the cutthroat world of assassins, he was more than ready. He dodged quickly, stepping back against the wall as the punch slammed into the ground, leaving a deep dent in the alley floor.
• Finnley let out an impressed whistle. "Not bad."
• Standing in front of him was a sage-looking elderly man, his posture straight and his aura commanding. It was clear this man was no ordinary fighter—he had spent years honing his skills.
• "You should feel honored that I called in the big guns for you," Spencer sneered from the background, beginning to realize that Finnley wasn't some ordinary guy after the beating he'd given Brock and his security team. He had called in some of the Fitzalan family's top fighters, sending Brock's goons in first to wear Finnley down. Now, it was time for the real challenge.
• But as Finnley glanced at Spencer, he couldn't help but laugh mockingly. "Spencer, how's your teeth? All fixed up?"
• Spencer's face flushed with anger. "Mr. Lorenzo, kill him!"
• At Spencer's command, the elder, Lorenzo Fitzalan, launched a series of powerful punches aimed straight for Finnley's vital points. Every blow was fast, precise, and deadly, clearly meant to take Finnley down for good.
• Finnley backed away slightly, maneuvering in the narrow alley. Spencer, watching from the sidelines, cackled. "You can't escape! There's nowhere for you to go!"
• But Finnley ignored Spencer's taunts, retreating until he reached a dead end. Lorenzo, sensing victory, charged forward, launching a brutal punch aimed directly at Finnley's chest—a strike that, if it connected, would surely kill him.
• But just as the punch was about to land, Finnley did something unexpected. Instead of dodging, he stepped forward, moving into the attack.
• What is he doing?! Spencer thought in shock. No sane person would willingly step into such a powerful blow.
• Lorenzo, too, was surprised. His punch was too far along to pull back now. He figured Finnley had resigned himself to death and was making one last desperate move.
• But, of course, Finnley wasn't about to let himself die. In a flash, his hands moved like snakes, coiling around Lorenzo's wrist in a perfect tai chi maneuver.
• "Tai chi?!" Lorenzo gasped. He hadn't seen a real practitioner of the ancient art in years. Most believed it had been lost to time, yet here was Finnley using its techniques to neutralize his attack.
• Lorenzo gritted his teeth and doubled down, throwing another punch. There's no way this kid has mastered tai chi at his age!
• But Finnley's movements were swift and fluid. With a quick shift, he pressed his shoulder against Lorenzo's arm, disrupting his balance. In an instant, Finnley's hand struck like iron, delivering a crushing blow to Lorenzo's neck. The elder fighter's energy faltered, and his strength drained in a single hit.
• "You—" Lorenzo tried to speak, but before he could say another word, Finnley's fist slammed into him, sending him flying through the air. He landed in a heap at Spencer's feet.
• "Mr. Lorenzo?!" Spencer's voice was full of shock. Who the hell is this guy? How could he beat the most skilled fighter on our payroll?
• Finnley shook his head, his voice dripping with mock pity. "Is this the best you've got, Spencer? If so, I suggest you stop bringing these people out here to embarrass yourselves."
• Then, he flexed his fingers as if stretching after a light workout. "How sad... none of you have even warmed me up yet."
• Spencer's face flushed with rage and humiliation, alternating between red and pale. "What are you all waiting for? Get him!"
• The remaining fighters at Spencer's side rushed forward like a barrage of cannonballs.
• Surely, four or five of them at once could handle him, right? Spencer thought desperately.
• But like dominoes, they fell one after another. Before they even reached Finnley, he had already taken them down. Some of them had their limbs broken, writhing on the ground like helpless insects.
• With the last of Spencer's men defeated, Finnley walked forward, his steps slow and deliberate. Spencer, now trembling, could feel the deadly aura surrounding Finnley.
• "Spencer, I gave you a chance yesterday and spared your life. But you just had to come after me again. Where's all that courage from, huh?"
• Spencer gulped, his throat dry as he tried to retreat, but Finnley grabbed him by the throat and lifted him off the ground. Spencer gasped for air, his legs kicking helplessly.
• "In three days, I want Fitzalan Tower leveled to the ground. If I don't see it destroyed, what I did to you today will seem like mercy compared to what's coming."