Rise Of The Underworld King

Chapter 6

"Raymond Hunter, what do you think you are doing here?" Angela asked in a cold voice, her eyebrows pulling together in a tight frown.

"I am attending my future family's grand evening party, of course," Raymond answered with a wide, confident grin, his heavy footsteps stopping just five feet away from them.

Angela felt a cold knot tighten in her stomach as she looked at him.

"Nobody invited you to stand here and question my guests, Raymond," she said aloud, her voice filled with irritation.

"A guest who holds your arm so tightly is not just any ordinary guest, my dear Angela," Raymond sneered softly, his eyes scanning Ethan from head to toe with contempt.

Raymond Hunter was the eldest son and heir of Victor Hunter, the brutal leader of the Hunter syndicate that controlled the city's western shipping docks and private security networks. For two years, Victor Hunter had pressured Franco Miretti to arrange a marriage between Raymond and Angela, hoping to combine the two largest underground factions into an untouchable empire.

Angela despised Raymond with every fiber of her being. She knew he was a cruel, violent bully who treated women like trophies and solved every business dispute with force and intimidation.

Raymond adjusted the lapels of his white designer blazer, before taking another step forward. He crossed his arms, the gold watch on his wrist catching the light of the chandeliers.

"I will ask one more time, Angela," Raymond said, his tone turning colder. "Who is this little beggar standing next to you, and why is his hand touching your dress?"

Emily quickly leaned toward Raymond with an eager, flattering smile, pointing her finger at Ethan. "Raymond, this is just a homeless nobody Angela found on the street to pull a cheap prank on you. You do not need to pay any attention to him at all."

"Is that true, Angela?" Raymond asked, ignoring Emily completely as his gaze stayed locked on Angela's pale face. "Are you really bringing street trash to your father's private gathering to test my patience?"

Angela opened her mouth to speak, intending to tell Raymond to get lost and leave the ballroom immediately.

Before a single word could come out of Angela's mouth, Ethan stepped forward smoothly, placing himself directly between Angela and Raymond. A soft smile appeared on Ethan’s handsome face as he extended his right hand toward Raymond.

"Hello," Ethan said in a clear, low voice. "My name is Ethan Sanders. I am Angela's boyfriend."

The entire Hall fell silent, several people looking in disbelief at Ethan's bold declaration.

Raymond’s arrogant smirk vanished instantly and his jaw clenched tightly. A murderous expression flashed across his face for a brief second before he forced his lips into a fake, mocking smile.

"Angela's boyfriend?" Raymond repeated the words slowly, chuckling under his breath with amusement. "Well, isn't that a wonderful surprise? I had no idea Angela had such... peculiar taste in men."

Raymond reached out his right hand, wrapping his thick fingers firmly around Ethan’s hand. "It is truly a great pleasure to meet you, Ethan. I hope you are taking very good care of our dear Angela."

As Raymond spoke those polite words, the muscles in his right forearm suddenly bulged beneath his tailored sleeve. He planted his feet firmly on the floor and channeled his full strength straight into his grip, aiming to crush every single bone in Ethan’s fingers.

Raymond was not just an ordinary rich young master who spent his days drinking in luxury clubs. He had trained in martial arts and underground combat for more than ten years, possessing enough power in his grip to bend steel pipes and shatter human knuckles with ease.

He stared directly into Ethan’s eyes, expecting him to fall to his knees in agonizing pain, screaming and begging for mercy in front of the entire ballroom.

He wanted to hear the satisfying sound of breaking bones and watch Angela rush forward in tears to plead for her fake boyfriend's useless life.

However, three seconds passed, and not a single sound of pain came from Ethan's mouth. Ethan stood completely upright, his posture relaxed and his shoulders perfectly level.

Raymond’s eyes widened slightly in shock.

"Is that all the strength you have?" Ethan asked softly.

Raymond’s face turned bright red with humiliation. Gritting his teeth behind his closed lips, he drew a deep breath and pushed his grip strength past ninety percent, the veins on his neck and forehead popping out like thick blue ropes.

He squeezed with every ounce of power in his body, his knuckles turning pale white from the extreme exertion. The tiles beneath his leather shoes groaned faintly under the pressure of his stance.

Yet, Ethan’s hand did not bend, Ethan’s fingers did not tremble, and the skin on his face did not show the slightest hint of discomfort.

To Ethan, who had mastered ancient kinetic alignment and microscopic tendon control throughout years of sovereign combat training across the globe, Raymond’s desperate grip felt like nothing more than the weak grasp of a toddler trying to pinch an iron wall.

"You seem very enthusiastic to meet me, Mr. Hunter," Ethan said aloud with a pleasant, relaxed tone.

Before Raymond could process what was happening, Ethan casually relaxed his fingers, rotated his wrist with a smooth, effortless circular motion, and slid his hand out of Raymond’s crushing grip as easily as pulling a silk ribbon from a box.

Ethan pulled his hand back to his side, shaking it lightly in the air as if he were merely dusting off a speck of dirt.

Raymond stumbled half a step forward from the sudden loss of resistance, his right hand throbbing with numbness. He quickly tucked his trembling fingers behind his back, staring at Ethan with a mixture of disbelief, confusion, and fury.

"You have quite a firm grip," Ethan added with a polite nod, his eyes sparkling with faint amusement. "It is always wonderful to see young men who take their daily hand exercises so seriously."

A few young women in the surrounding crowd covered their mouths, letting out quiet, stifled giggles at Ethan’s sarcastic remark.

Raymond felt his chest burn with rage. He had ruled the city's youth circles for years, and nobody had ever dared to treat him like a clown in public, especially in front of Angela Miretti.

"You think you are very funny, don't you?" Raymond said, his voice dropping into a low, venomous growl as he stepped closer to Ethan. "Tell me, Ethan Sanders, who the hell are you really? Which family do you belong to in this province?"

"I do not belong to any prominent family," Ethan replied calmly, his tone flat and unbothered.

"What company do your parents run?" Raymond demanded, crossing his arms again to hide his aching fingers. "What business do you manage in Newberg?"

"My parents passed away many years ago, and I was raised by my grandmother in a modest home," Ethan answered honestly. "I do not own a corporation in this city, and I do not hold any public business title."

Emily immediately threw her hands in the air, laughing loudly with mockery. "Did you hear that, everyone? He is an orphan from the slums who doesn't even have a real job. He is nothing more than a broke freeloader trying to eat soft rice off Angela’s table!"

"A penniless beggar," Raymond sneered, his confidence returning as he realized Ethan had no powerful family backing him up. "You are just a nameless insect from the gutter. How dare a filthy peasant like you touch the woman I have chosen to be my wife?"

"Angela is not an object that you can choose or buy with your father's dirty money," Ethan said. "She has her own free will, and she has already chosen who she wants to stand beside."

"Shut your mouth!" Raymond shouted, his face twisting into a furious scowl. "A useless nobody like you has no right to lecture me about business or marriage! You think you are tough just because you have thick skin on your hands?"

Raymond turned his body slightly, pointing his thumb toward the glass hallway that connected the ballroom to the hotel’s private sports and entertainment pavilion.

"There is a professional, full-sized octagon fighting cage right inside that athletic club," Raymond announced in a loud, booming voice that grabbed the attention of every single guest in the hall. "I have fought sixteen underground matches in that cage, and I have never left an opponent standing on his feet."

The surrounding guests began to murmur nervously, several businessmen shaking their heads. Everyone in Newberg knew about Raymond's brutal reputation in the private fighting circuits, where he had broken the arms and ribs of seasoned professional fighters for sport.

"Since you claim to be Angela’s protector, why don't we step inside that cage right now?" Raymond sneered, looking down at Ethan with bloodthirsty eyes. "Three five-minute rounds under full mixed martial arts rules. No gloves, no referee stopping the fight early, and no running away."

Raymond leaned forward until his face was only inches from Ethan’s nose, his breath smelling of whiskey. "What do you say, little boy? Are you man enough to step into the ring with me, or are you just a cowardly dog who only knows how to hide behind a woman's skirt?"

"Raymond, that is enough!" Angela shouted in a panic, stepping forward and grabbing Ethan’s arm to pull him back. "This is my father's party! You have no right to issue violent challenges to my guests in the middle of a formal gathering!"

"Why are you so nervous, Angela?" Raymond laughed coldly, looking at her with a cruel grin. "If this boyfriend of yours is truly a real man who deserves to hold your hand, he should be willing to fight for your honor. Unless, of course, you know deep down that he is just a pathetic coward who will wet his pants the moment he steps on the canvas."

"He doesn't need to prove anything to an arrogant thug like you!" Angela yelled back, her heart racing with fear.

She turned to Ethan, her eyes wide with pleadings as she tugged on his dark coat. "Ethan, do not listen to him. You have no idea what Raymond is capable of. He has trained with professional champions, and he has severely crippled people in several matches before. Please, just ignore him and let us walk away."

Emily crossed her arms, smirking proudly at Angela. "Look at him, Angela! He is already shaking in his boots! A street beggar like him wouldn't last ten seconds against Raymond in a real fight. If he has any brains left, he will get on his knees and apologize right now."

"Stay out of this, Emily!" Angela snapped, her voice trembling with anger and anxiety.

She looked back up at Ethan, her hands gripping his sleeve with all her strength. "Ethan, I am serious. This is not a game. Raymond will try to end your life the moment the cage door closes. We are leaving right now, and that is an order."

The entire ballroom fell into silence, every eye fixed on the plain-looking young man standing beside the city's most famous heiress. Most of the guests looked at Ethan with pity, assuming he would either bow his head in shame or run for the nearest exit to save his own life.

Ethan looked down at Angela's pale, worried face. He saw the genuine care and terror in her beautiful eyes, and a warm, comforting smile slowly spread across his lips.

He gently reached down with his right hand, placing his warm palm over Angela’s trembling fingers, softly loosening her tight grip on his coat sleeve.

"Do not worry, Angela," Ethan said. "A simple exercise will not take up much of our evening."

Ethan turned his head slowly, his eyes locking on Raymond's arrogant, grinning face.

There was no fear in Ethan’s gaze, no hesitation in his stance, and no anger in his expression.

"An octagon cage sounds very interesting," Ethan said with a calm, effortless smile. "OK. Let us go.".