Chapter 261: Ch 261 - Hands like Knives
Andy and Tim hid behind Rufus. They were deeply frightened, and they felt lucky to be alive.
Rufus hadn't noticed that there were steel wires hidden inside the silk. Seeing that both Andy and Tim had been beaten back, he began to feel a little anxious. He turned to Paul. "Please deal with Mr. Marvel."
Paul looked at Charles and then over at Alex. He knew who he really wanted to fight. A contest with Alex would prove once and for all who was the better fighter.
"What's your name?" he asked.
Paul respected skilled martial artists, and he prided himself on knowing everyone who was worth knowing. But he didn't recognize Alex.
"My name is Alex," Alex responded with a stern look on his face. All he could think of was how Paul had ruined his wedding, and now he was going after his father-in-law, as well.
Paul was surprised. Of all the young fighters he could think of who had notable skill, he could not remember anyone called Alex. Then again, he had been training heavily for the past twelve years. He hadn't had time to keep tabs on every up-and-comer.
"Rufus," Reginald suddenly exclaimed. "This boy's full name is Alex Ambrose."
Given the influence of the Cliftons, Reginald figured that Rufus must know about the Ambrose family. Alex's lineage might prompt Rufus to back away. Otherwise, he might not only have Charles killed, but Reginald as well.
So he's an Ambrose, Rufus thought and looked Alex over. Yeah, he must be. He carries himself like a rich kid. But it doesn't matter. Whoever he is, he's not going to stop me from killing Charles. This is a private matter, and the Ambrose family has no right to interfere.
"That's not my name!" Alex blurted out. His family had hung him out to dry. He wanted nothing to do with them now.
Rufus didn't know what Alex was talking about, but he could tell from his face that he was telling the truth. But it didn't matter. Whether Alex was a true Ambrose or not, Charles Marvel had to die. "Mr. Novak, you have your orders," he said.
Paul nodded in agreement and turned to Alex with a smile on his face. "It's a pleasure to meet you. You see, I've been tinkering with my own style of martial arts for the last few years. It's kind of a mix of everything I've learned in my life. I've been waiting for a real opponent to test it on."
For the first two of the twelve years that Paul had worked for Jessop Clinton, he had felt stifled in his martial arts technique. But then he had started thinking about mixing all the styles he had been taught into something new. He had spent the following years perfecting his unique creation.
But even though he was the Cliftons' first choice in matters of violence, his technique had not yet been tested against a worthy adversary. Until now, he thought. Alex will be my first real opponent.
Paul's eyes moved leisurely away from Alex and fixed on Charles. He stretched out his hand toward him, and it seemed to transform into the shape of a knife. At the same time, he stood up straighter and moved to strike at Charles' head.
Neither Charles, Lindsey, nor Debbie had any time to react to this move. But just as Paul was about to strike Charles with a fatal blow to the head, somebody took hold of his wrist and turned the blow away.
Paul looked beside him and saw that it was Alex who had hindered him. He stared at him in disbelief for a moment, and then twisted out of his grip. His other hand came flying toward Alex with even greater power and speed. But before it could find its target, Alex stepped away and avoided the blow.
He was amazed at Paul's abilities. It dawned on him that one mistake in this confrontation could be fatal. He had to focus.
He took a deep breath, felt his internal force flow into his arms, and struck at the center of his opponent's body. Their palms crashed into each other like two slabs of concrete, and both of them were stunned.
Alex hadn't expected Paul's defenses to be so strong. For a moment, he stood in shock at the fact that his hand was still attached to his arm.
Paul was equally surprised. His initial blows were a technique he had perfected over years of practice. It was perfect. No matter what angle, strength, speed, or rhythm he used it at, it was impossible to guard against. And yet Alex had done so.
After the initial shock, Alex collected himself and rushed toward Paul. He hit him in the chest with his right elbow, just below the throat, and Paul gasped for air and almost vomited. He looked as if he was about to fall over.
Alex chose not to follow up on this debilitating strike. Instead, he stood and gazed quietly at Paul.
Paul shook his head and composed himself. He was extremely angry and disappointed. He had studied to perfect his skills for years. He had been sure that his technique would become a staple of martial arts training all over the world. It was his legacy. But it had failed him in its first real test.
He refused to believe it. When he turned to look at Alex, his eyes shone with anger and a strong thirst for vengeance.
Paul took a deep breath. Once again, he molded his hands into the shape of a knife, preparing to strike. This time, he sprang up and came at Alex with such speed that his arms seemed like the blades of a propeller.
Alex stood back and assessed Paul's new technique. It was as if he had harnessed the power of a tornado. His blade-like arms spun and rotated so rapidly that there seemed to be a dozen of them. If one strike landed, it would be impossible to avoid the following barrage.
Alex knew that he couldn't afford to make a mistake. He took a few steps back and focused. When he saw his opportunity, he struck in-between Paul's whirring arms and hit him right in the face.
Just when Alex's punch found its target, one of Paul's hands cut him across the belly. Somehow, it ripped his clothes and left a shallow cut in the skin, as if his flesh and blood hands really were knives. If Paul had managed to reach a little farther, he might have opened Alex's gut.
Paul stopped his attack and stepped back a few steps. His face was now red and swollen. It looked as if it hurt badly, but he didn't seem to care. It was his pride that had taken the worst beating.
Suddenly, Paul cried out and came at Alex with four new attacks in quick succession. Each of these were different, but Alex was able to parry them with ease.
They exchanged blows for a few minutes, moving up and down the hall and smashing furniture.
Finally, Alex landed a decisive blow. Paul flew backwards onto the ground, slid across the floor, and lay lifeless a few meters away from Alex.
Everyone was stunned, especially Rufus. He never thought that Paul would be defeated.
Paul raised himself very slowly. His face was covered with blood and dust. His clothes were in tatters, and he moved as if his body was about to fall to pieces.
Finally, he managed to stand up. "I lost," he admitted. "It seems I am no match for you." He nodded deferentially to Alex, as if to say he now understood how arrogant he had been.
Alex ignored him. Winning or losing didn't matter to him. What he cared about were the lives of Debbie and Charles. "Mr. Clifton, please take your people away now," he said and looked at Rufus.
Rufus' heart was racing. He was truly afraid of what Alex might do to him. But he would not give up. Killing Charles might be impossible, but he still had to bring Debbie back with him. He wouldn't allow her to repeat Cynthia's mistakes.
"Debbie, come back with me," he said. "I'm your uncle." Debbie looked at him with fear and disgust.
David, Reginald, and the four Moon girls were stunned with surprised.
"No, Rufus," Charles said and stood in front of Debbie. He thought that the Cliftons would kill her if she went back to them. "Please spare her life."
"What are you talking about?" Rufus asked. "Debbie is part of our family. Do you think we'd hurt her?"
"What kind of a question is that?!" Charles couldn't believe what he was hearing. Cynthia had died because the Cliftons wanted Debbie dead. If she fell into their hands now, it was obvious that she wouldn't survive.
Rufus snarled. If Alex hadn't been there, he would have attacked Charles without a second thought. "You heard me. Are you calling me a liar?"
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