Chapter 10 Fighter Seventeen Steals the Show

Life in Emerald City was vibrant and exciting, but Emma rarely ventured out.

Tonight, Evelyn had forcibly dragged Emma out for some fun.

Their first stop was a boxing gym—the kind of place where the eye candy was guaranteed: buff, hot, and fresh.

The bell rang, and the crowd erupted in excitement. The match was about to begin.

"Look, look! Fighter Seventeen is getting in the ring!"

Evelyn grabbed a napkin, quickly folding it into a heart shape, then pressed her lips to it, leaving a vivid lipstick mark before handing it to a server.

"Could you please give this to Fighter Seventeen? Tell him it's from the lady in VIP Box One, and to knock 'em dead!"

The server, clearly used to such requests, took the napkin heart and headed down to the ringside.

Fighter Seventeen stood at the edge of the boxing ring, warming up, his eyes as sharp as a hawk's.

He accepted the napkin from the server, squinted, and swept his gaze toward VIP Box One. His expression was complex, unreadable.

The bell rang, and the fight officially began!

Fighter Seventeen instantly pounced like a panther, muscles rippling, fists whistling through the air. Every punch carried the force of thunder, making hearts race.

"Wonderful! Wonderful! Get him, get him!" Evelyn was practically dancing with excitement, looking like she wanted to jump in and throw a few punches herself.

Emma was caught up in the electric atmosphere too, adrenaline surging as she stared unblinkingly at the intense combat in the ring.

The dull impacts of flesh meeting flesh sent chills down everyone's spine.

In less than three minutes, his opponent let out a pained cry and crashed to the canvas, unable to get back up.

The arena instantly exploded—cheers, screams, and deafening applause as the atmosphere went completely wild!

"Seventeen! Seventeen!" Evelyn led the chanting, screaming until her voice was nearly hoarse.

Fighter Seventeen remained expressionless, his eyes cold, as if he'd just done something utterly trivial.

Next, the host pulled him into an exhibition match, which he won just as cleanly—dispatching his opponent in a matter of moments.

Under his fists, no one could last more than three minutes. The crowd went absolutely crazy!

Spectators rushed to the ringside, throwing money onto the platform. Bills fluttered around him like snow.

"One more fight! One more fight!"

Only Evelyn reached into her purse, pulling out a velvet towel embroidered with a small cat pattern, and hurled it down with all her might.

The towel landed perfectly in front of Fighter Seventeen. He bent down, picked it up, glanced at it, then turned and walked straight off the platform, disappearing into the backstage corridor.

"He took my gift!" Evelyn looked absolutely smitten, her eyes practically sparkling with stars.

"Did you see that? Now THAT'S a real man—not swayed by money, only stopping for my affection. Absolutely devastating!"

Emma laughed helplessly. "Evelyn, your imagination is so wild you should really write romance novels."

After the boxing match, the two headed to an upscale nightclub for the evening's entertainment.

At that moment, Nicholas was in a private room with his usual crowd, drinking.

Nicholas sat in the place of honor, gently swirling a glass of amber liquid that gleamed even deeper in the light. But his eyes were like icicles in a winter wind—cold and forbidding.

Tonight's usual suspects surrounded him—several well-dressed men, each with a beautiful woman at his side, creating a scene that was both intimate and classy.

Only he remained untouched, aloof and aristocratic in his restraint.

Upon entering, Evelyn and Emma were immediately drawn to the commotion around the pool table area.

"Wow, quite a crowd!" Evelyn wandered over curiously.

A group had gathered around a pool table, watching with rapt attention, occasionally bursting into applause and cheers.

A tall man in a floral shirt held a cue stick, his movements smooth and confident as he cleared the table in two shots, earning thunderous applause.

After finishing his game, the man looked up and spotted Evelyn and Emma—two stunning beauties. His eyes immediately lit up, a playful smile curving his lips as he walked toward them.

"Ladies, care to join me for a game?" The man's smile was brilliant, radiating confidence and challenge.

Evelyn looked him up and down, then pursed her lips. "With skills like that? Barely mediocre."

Hearing this, the man's interest was instantly piqued. "Oh? The beautiful lady has high standards, I see. How about we make it interesting with a little wager?"

"What kind of wager?" Evelyn raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued.

"If I win," the man pointed to his own face with a rather suggestive smile, "you kiss me. How about it?"

Evelyn burst out laughing.

"A kiss? In your dreams! If we win," she pointed toward the stage in the distance, a mischievous smile playing on her lips, "you get up on that stage and do a striptease! Do you dare?"

"Whoa!" The surrounding crowd erupted at this, clapping and cheering as the atmosphere ignited.

The man was momentarily stunned, then burst into laughter.

"Interesting! You're on! But which lady will be playing?" His gaze moved back and forth between Evelyn and Emma.

Without hesitation, Evelyn pushed Emma forward. "Her, of course! My friend is a pool shark—crushing amateurs like you will be a piece of cake!"

Emma stumbled, caught off guard, staring at Evelyn in bewilderment. "Evelyn, you..."

Evelyn winked at her, gesturing wildly, "Emma, don't chicken out! For my entertainment, go get him!"

Emma didn't know whether to laugh or cry, but seeing Evelyn's excitement, she could only bite the bullet and step up.

How long had it been since she'd touched a cue stick? Five years? Six?

She was seriously out of practice!

But now Evelyn had thrown her into the spotlight, and every eye in the room was focused on her—curious, skeptical, and thrilled by the prospect of drama.

There was no backing down now.

Emma took a deep breath and reached for a slightly cool cue stick.

Fine. Consider it a workout.

The man in the floral shirt watched her slender fingers grip the cue. Her form looked decent enough, but his eyes still held contempt.

He gestured with exaggerated chivalry.

"Ladies first, please."

Emma said nothing, walking to the edge of the table. She leaned forward slightly, steadying her breathing.

In that instant, the surrounding noise seemed to fade away.

Her eyes, under the ambient lighting, suddenly became as sharp as a hawk's, locked onto the perfectly arranged nine balls on the table.

She drew her right hand back steadily, then—

The crisp sound of impact rang out as the cue ball shot forward like lightning, striking the rack with precision.

The colored balls were scattered in all directions.

One, two, three!

She'd sunk three balls on the break!

Unbelievable!