“Nobody Can Beat Me,” the Black Belt Boasted — Until a Single Dad Entered the Ring
Chapter 10
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"I said hit me!" William roared.Trent panicked. He lunged forward, throwing a wild, looping right hand squarely at William's unprotected jaw.William didn't flinch. He didn't blink. He just tightened the muscles in his neck, tucked his chin slightly, and braced for the impact.The punch landed flush on William's left cheekbone. The sound was sickening—a hard, bony crack. William's head snapped sharply to the right. The world tilted violently. The sky and the asphalt swapped places for a terrifying fraction of a second. His knees buckled, and his left hand touched the mat to keep him from falling face first."Whoa, whoa, break!" the referee yelled, diving between them and pushing Trent back. The ref looked down at William, his fingers raised. "Look at me. You done? I'm calling it."William's cheekbone was instantly swollen, a dark purple mass expanding under the skin. His left eye was completely forced shut, but his right eye was clear, and it was furious. William grabbed the middle rope with his right hand. His knuckles cracked as he hauled his dead weight off the mat. He didn't use his legs; he pulled himself up through pure upper-body strength, his boots slipping on the sweaty canvas."I'm up," William spit. A mixture of saliva and blood sprayed onto the referee's black polo shirt. "Get out of my way."The referee hesitated. He looked into William's one good eye and saw a total absence of self-preservation. It terrified him."10 seconds!" the timekeeper shrieked.The referee stepped back and chopped his hand down. "Fight."Trent was backed into the corner, his arms heavy, his chest heaving. He watched William rise from the mat like a corpse pulled from a river. He saw William take a heavy, dragging step forward.Trent broke. He didn't throw a punch. He didn't raise his guard. He simply turned his body to the side, pressing his back against the turnbuckle, and covered his head with both gloves, curling into a tight, defensive ball. He gave up.William stopped two feet away from him. He raised his right hand, making a fist. He could have ended it right there: he could have driven his fist into Trent's unprotected ribs and cracked them in half; he could have humiliated the kid on his own livestream.William looked at Trent cowering in the corner. Then, he looked at his own trembling, taped hands. He slowly lowered his arm.Ding. Ding. Ding.The final bell echoed across the parking lot. For three seconds, nobody moved. The music had stopped playing 10 minutes ago. The only sound was the distant hum of traffic out on the highway and the ragged sound of William fighting for breath.Then, the heavy-set union guy in the front row started clapping. It was a slow, solitary sound at first. But then, the teenager next to him joined in. Then, the guy running the camera. Within 10 seconds, the entire parking lot erupted: it wasn't a polite smattering of applause; it was a deafening, chaotic roar of absolute respect. They were beating on the metal barricades, stomping their feet on the asphalt, screaming William's name, even though they didn't know what it was.