Chapter 594

chapter594

“So, you’re Emmanuel Lowe?” The woman, known in the underworld as Blue Rose, looked at Emmanuel with eyes full of undisguised contempt. To her, his previous victories over Magnus’s henchmen were merely a matter of luck.

Emmanuel met her gaze with indifference. “And if I am?” He could tell she was aware of his history—including the fall of Casper—yet her arrogance remained unshaken. He tightened his stance, curious to see what justified such confidence.

“A man who relies on reputation and defensive maneuvers doesn’t deserve to be a match for a genius like Magnus,” Blue Rose said with a sneer. “I’ll have you neutralized within three moves. Consider it the price for your overconfidence.”

Quintus, watching from the sidelines, let out a low whistle. Three moves? He knew Emmanuel’s true strength was far greater than he usually let on. For this woman to make such a bold claim meant she was either delusional or possessed a level of combat skill that was rarely seen in Yeringham.

“Is that so? I look forward to seeing what kind of expert can end a fight that quickly,” Emmanuel countered.

Blue Rose didn't wait for another word. She launched herself forward with startling agility, her speed easily surpassing that of Quinn. She moved with a fluid, predatory grace that made her difficult to track.

Not wanting to remain on the defensive, Emmanuel met her advance with a powerful, direct strike.

However, Blue Rose’s flexibility was exceptional. She twisted in mid-air, narrowly evading his fist. Using her momentum, she pivoted and attempted a complex grappling maneuver, aiming to lock his upper body and restrict his movement in a single, seamless motion.

Having a deep background in military combat, Emmanuel recognized the technique instantly. It was a high-level submission hold designed to use an opponent’s weight against them. He reacted with lightning speed, dropping his center of gravity and rolling to the side to break the tension before her lock could fully engage.

Blue Rose was relentless. She transitioned immediately into a second move, a groundwork lock that sought to trap Emmanuel’s right arm while pinning his shoulder. Her movements were precise and disciplined, demonstrating years of specialized training.

“Impressive,” Quintus remarked, leaning forward. He could see the technical brilliance in her execution. Most fighters would have been incapacitated by now, caught in the web of her rapid-fire transitions.

A cold, triumphant smirk played on Blue Rose’s lips. “That’s two moves, ‘Dr. Lowe.’ You’re running out of chances.”

Magnus watched with a satisfied expression. Blue Rose’s technical execution is flawless, he thought. No one escapes her once the sequence begins.

“I’ll admit, your technique is top-tier,” Emmanuel said, his voice remarkably calm despite being in a disadvantageous position. His eyes showed no hint of panic.

The smirk on Blue Rose’s face faltered.

Suddenly, Emmanuel’s frame seemed to expand as his muscles tensed with explosive power. “But technique alone can’t compensate for a total gap in raw force,” he growled. “You’ve mastered the art of the lock, but you’ve forgotten what it means to be overwhelmed by absolute strength!”

With a sudden, violent surge, Emmanuel braced his legs and surged upward. Using only the strength of his trapped arm, he forcibly uprooted Blue Rose’s entire weight, swinging her through the air and throwing her toward the far side of the room.

The witnesses were stunned. The sheer physical power required to break such a hold through brute force was almost monstrous. Quintus stood with his mouth agape; he realized Emmanuel had been holding back significantly during their own previous encounters.

Magnus’s smile vanished instantly.

Blue Rose’s eyes flickered with a rare moment of genuine fear. In all her years of combat, she had never encountered an opponent who could simply ‘out-muscle’ a perfectly executed submission hold.

Bam! Emmanuel’s counter-strike narrowly missed as Blue Rose scrambled to recover, the force of his blow cracking the reinforced floor of the living room. The shockwave of the impact sent her staggering back against a stone pillar.

Before she could regain her balance, a hand as firm as a vice clamped around her collar, pinning her against the marble. Emmanuel stood over her, his presence looming and cold.

“Is this your third move?” he asked, his voice like ice.