Mr. Grant’s Got Skills

After finishing two cigarettes, things finally settled down, and the two of them lugged their bags back to the villa just as the sun dipped below the horizon. Inside the grand hall, Dexter sat beside a rosewood tea table, sipping kung fu tea. Grant and the others were nowhere to be seen. 

"Ean, come have some tea—authentic aged Pu'er from Yunnan," Dexter greeted Ethan warmly. 

Ethan lifted the plastic bags in his hands and gave a wry smile. "I'd rather find a place to drop these off first—and take a shower while I'm at it." 

Dexter chuckled and picked up a small gadget from the table, pressing a button. Less than ten seconds later, two young women in maid outfits emerged from the inner room and stood obediently before him. 

Stepping forward, Dexter slipped the gadget into Ethan's pocket. "Take this pager. If you need anything, just press the button. Don't hold back—treat this place like your own home." Then, turning to the two maids, he instructed, "Take our guests to their rooms upstairs." 

The two maids immediately picked up the bags and led Ethan and Eliza upstairs. However, when it came time to assign rooms, Eliza requested her own, and Ethan didn't argue—he simply let her be. 

Once settled in, Ethan suddenly remembered to check in with his sister. He dialed her number, and after two rings, Ivy's familiar voice came through, tinged with urgency. 

"Ean? Is that you?" She sounded anxious, clearly worried after not hearing from him for two days. 

"Yeah, it's me." An inexplicable wave of guilt washed over Ethan. 

"Are you alright out there? Why didn't you call yesterday?" Ivy's voice wavered slightly. 

Feeling like a kid caught sneaking out, Ethan confessed honestly, "Sorry, I forgot…" Yesterday, he had been too distracted by unexpected romantic developments to remember such a basic responsibility. 

There was a brief silence before Ivy's calm yet firm voice came through. "Having too much fun, huh? From now on, call me before 6 p.m. every day. Got it?" 

Ethan exhaled in relief. "Got it. I'll call on time from tomorrow." 

Ivy gave him a few more reminders before hanging up. Taking a deep breath, Ethan headed to the bathroom for a shower. 

After freshening up, he grabbed his phone and dialed Grant. The call rang for a long time with no answer, and just as Ethan was about to give up, the phone suddenly buzzed in his hand. 

Grant's voice came through, slightly out of breath. "Ean, what's up?" 

Ethan rolled his eyes. "What are you doing? Getting busy with someone?" 

"Yeah, right. I've been in the gym downstairs this whole time. About to go a round with Axel & Blaze—interested in watching? Bring some gum." 

Ethan's eyes lit up. Without hesitation, he grabbed a pack of gum from the shopping bag and bolted out of the room. Truth be told, he had always loved martial arts—whether it was boxing, taekwondo, Muay Thai, or traditional Chinese kungfu. Unfortunately, he never had the chance to formally train, so he stuck to basic fitness. 

As he sprinted downstairs, he noticed Dexter still enjoying his tea. "Dex, where's the gym?" 

Dexter lazily pointed to a side door on the left. Before he could say another word, Ethan dashed through it. 

Inside, the gym was a spacious hall of at least 200 square meters, covered with plush white carpeting. Exercise equipment lined the walls, several punching bags hung from the ceiling, and a large open space in the center served as the arena for Grant and his opponents. 

At that moment, Grant stood shirtless, facing off against Axel, while Blaze observed silently from the side. Ethan quickly joined the spectators. 

"HAH!" Grant let out a fierce battle cry, muscles tensing as he lunged forward. His body lifted off the ground in a swift leap, his right leg whipping toward Axel's chest with a powerful kick. 

Axel's pupils shrank slightly. He sidestepped the attack and immediately threw a heavy fist toward Grant's knee—a no-nonsense strike, raw and forceful. If it connected, Grant would be rolling on the floor clutching his leg. 

Grant, still mid-air, instinctively retracted his right leg and twisted his waist. His left leg lashed out in a cross kick aimed at Axel's waist—a flawless two-hit combo. 

Axel had a choice: commit to his punch and get kicked first, or back off. Even Blaze, watching from the sidelines, showed a flicker of admiration at Grant's clean execution. 

Instead of dodging, Axel braced himself, sinking his weight down and taking the kick on his broad shoulder. At the same time, his fist loosened and his open hand shot down, gripping Grant's knee like pulling weeds from the ground. 

Grant lost his balance and dropped into a full split. Reacting instantly, he swept his left palm in a sharp chop toward Axel's lower leg. 

Ethan's keen hearing caught the faint sound of air being sliced—it was a strike with real force behind it. If it connected, Axel would undoubtedly go down. 

Axel, aware of the danger, sprang upward more than a meter into the air, dodging the strike and countering with a double-fisted overhead smash. 

Grant rolled out of the way and sprang to his feet, launching a high kick over his own shoulder straight at Axel's head. 

BAM! 

Caught off guard, Axel took the hit and stumbled backward two meters before rolling onto his feet again. Without hesitation, he lunged forward, his fists hammering down like a torrential storm. 

Grant hadn't expected Axel to take a hit so well. He adjusted quickly, responding with a rapid series of kicks. 

THWACK! THWACK! THWACK! 

The sound of fists and legs clashing echoed through the gym. Grant had the upper hand with his kicks, neutralizing Axel's fierce onslaught. Seeing an opening, he crouched and swept his leg, striking Axel's ankle with precision. 

CRACK! 

Axel crashed to the ground, sprawled out on his back. Unlike before, he couldn't spring up immediately. In that split second, Grant's fist was already hovering just above his nose. 

The match was decided—Grant had won. 

Yet, Ethan's sharp eyes noticed something: Grant's leg muscles trembled slightly. Clearly, Axel had landed some solid hits. The guy could take a beating. 

The fight had been nothing but raw skill—no fancy tricks, just pure, hard-hitting combat. Ethan was thoroughly impressed. 

Grant was no spoiled rich playboy—his martial arts skills alone were enough to command respect.