Henry Clark’s heart was cold. He couldn’t deal with John Grant yet, so he’d just beat up his lackey as a bit of interest. With a flick of his right hand—buzz—the bracelet on his wrist immediately lit up, but it was covered by cloth, so no one else could see it.

“Since you’re so desperate for a beating, I’ll make sure you enjoy it,” he said with a smile.

“Hahahaha, I see your stupidity hasn’t gotten any better, still spouting nonsense,” Matthew Bolton laughed loudly, his right palm chopping straight down toward Henry Clark’s left shoulder—he didn’t dare to go all out, so this strike was only meant to break Henry Clark’s bone.

Of course, this would get him punished by the academy, but John Grant would definitely compensate him financially.

Being someone’s lackey meant taking the fall for your master.

The palm strike came.

In Henry Clark’s eyes, the whole world seemed to slow down, allowing him to clearly see the trajectory and changes of Matthew Bolton’s palm. Of course, since Matthew Bolton didn’t take him seriously at all, there wasn’t much variation in the move—it was just a straightforward attack.

He threw a punch to meet Matthew Bolton head-on.

A direct clash.

Bang!

With a dull thud, both Henry Clark and Matthew Bolton staggered back a few steps. In this exchange, they were evenly matched.

What?

This result left everyone dumbfounded.

Everyone knew Henry Clark was an idiot. He’d been at the academy for two years but had never trained. As for Matthew Bolton, though he was rough, his strength was nearly at the second stage of the Minor Attainment Realm.

How could the two of them be evenly matched? Even if Matthew Bolton wasn’t using his full strength, it shouldn’t be like this.

Matthew Bolton was stunned too. As a straightforward guy, he was even more confused. “How are you so strong?” he asked.

Henry Clark ignored him, pushed off with his foot, and charged forward.

“Trying to go head-to-head with me? You’re just asking for a beating,” Matthew Bolton said disdainfully. He specialized in brute force; going toe-to-toe with him when strength was equal was just stupid.

And you say you’re not an idiot.

He swung both palms again, but this time he wasn’t holding back—he used the Iron Palm technique.

An intermediate martial skill.

Henry Clark’s pupils dilated slightly. As soon as his brain received the image, it began frantically deducing, analyzing every move of his opponent. A smile crept onto his lips, and he paused slightly.

Whoosh!

Matthew Bolton’s palms struck, pressing straight toward Henry Clark’s chest.

Did he hit?

No.

By a hair’s breadth, Matthew Bolton’s palms stopped less than half an inch from Henry Clark’s chest.

Chapter 9: Triple Wave

“How did that happen?”

“It must’ve been a fluke, right?”

“Definitely a fluke. You think this idiot could see through Matthew Bolton’s attack? Is that even possible?”

“Yeah, making the most accurate judgment in that split second is basically impossible.”

Seeing this, everyone gasped in shock. This was even more unbelievable than Henry Clark matching Matthew Bolton in strength. After all, anyone could train to become strong, but this kind of judgment in battle… was terrifying.

Matthew Bolton was stunned—his opponent had actually dodged his attack?

Swish—at that moment, Henry Clark’s right fist swung over.

After attacking, defense was at its weakest. Matthew Bolton couldn’t even block, let alone dodge.

Bang!

The punch landed squarely on Matthew Bolton’s face. With nearly 2,000 jin of force, Matthew Bolton was sent flying. Henry Clark hadn’t held back at all. His opponent was a genuine first-stage Minor Attainment Realm fighter, tough as nails. 2,000 jin might injure him, but killing or crippling him in one blow was impossible.

Matthew Bolton soared high, then crashed heavily to the ground. There was already some snow on the ground, and it scattered everywhere as he landed.

All around, it was dead silent.

Matthew Bolton’s strength was nothing special in the Earth Institute—there were plenty who could beat him. But that person should never have been Henry Clark.

“Bastard.” Matthew Bolton suddenly sprang up from the ground. He was like a humanoid bear, extremely tough. That punch only loosened his teeth a bit, not causing any real harm.

His eyes blazed with fury. This idiot actually dared to make a fool of him—unforgivable.

“I’m going to flatten you.” He charged forward, both palms slapping in from either side, aiming for Henry Clark’s forehead.

Henry Clark’s eyes trembled slightly, showing his brain was running calculations at high speed. Smack—a loud sound—Matthew Bolton’s palms clapped together, his right hand hitting his left, while Henry Clark had just stepped back at the perfect moment to dodge the blow.

He dodged again.

Once could be luck, but twice in a row… how could anyone be that lucky?

Everyone gasped. There was only one explanation: Henry Clark had completely seen through Matthew Bolton’s attacks and responded in the simplest, most effective way.

But that was hard to accept.

An idiot—no, the current Henry Clark was definitely not an idiot. But even if he wasn’t, he shouldn’t be able to do what he just did.