At the boxing club.
"Did you take something?!"
Bald Deck stared at Adam's inhuman moves, jaw dropping for a sec before a knowing look hit him. As a pro in the violence game, he knew human limits inside out.
The world record for a standing jump? 1.65 meters—official stuff. Unofficial, some hidden talent might hit 1.9 meters. But even the wildest rumors never broke 2 meters.
And here was Adam, casually clearing 2.32 meters like it was nothing. That's not just a step above—it's a whole different league! To Deck, a guy like Adam— a doctor—pulling this off? Had to be some special "boost." Totally juiced up!
"Need me to pee in a cup for you to test?" Adam smirked. "I thought we were here to fight, not flirt and drop pants."
"No worries," Deck shot back, eyes narrowing as he shook off the shock and clenched his fists. "Come on—I'll make you leak without stripping."
"…" Adam's mouth twitched. He was done talking.
If this were Black Widow, he might've enjoyed some pre-fight banter. But this bald tough guy? Nah, he wasn't in the mood for quips that could sound weird. This wasn't some BL fanfic!
So he just raised a hand and beckoned with a flick.
Deck didn't waste words either. He lunged, quick as a cat, throwing a punch straight at Adam's face.
Adam's expression darkened.
Dude, no hitting the face! This guy had no manners.
Jealousy! Pure, shameless jealousy!
Thankfully, Adam had bullet-time reflexes. He blocked just in time, saving his handsome mug. Sidestepping the punch, he zipped behind Deck in a flash. With a quick mental calc, he clenched his fist—middle finger out—and tapped Deck's bald head with a light thwack.
Dong! A crisp knock echoed.
Deck's vision blurred as sharp pain shot from his scalp. He ducked low, rolling to dodge. But before he could spring back up—
Dong!
Dong!
Dong!
Three more knocks in a row!
"Shit!" Deck cursed, stars dancing in his eyes. He knew he couldn't match Adam's speed, so he gave up attacking. Arms shot up, shielding his "hairdo."
Bang! The knocking stopped—replaced by a solid punch to Deck's left eye socket.
Grunting through the pain, Deck rolled again, grabbed the ring ropes, and slid under them, bailing off the platform. He snatched a chair from below, smashed it, and gripped two broken legs like clubs. Only then did he glare up at Adam, who stood on the ring grinning down at him.
"Come get me!" Adam taunted, throwing out a kung-fu finger jab and a mock roar.
Deck blinked his stinging left eye, rubbed the red lumps sprouting on his head, and charged back in with steely resolve.
In his line of work, courage was the one thing he never ran out of. Sure, Adam was leagues stronger—but as long as he could swing, there was a shot to turn it around. Catch one opening, and he'd hit Adam hard, paying back every blow with interest!
Dong!
Dong!
Dong-dong-dong-dong!
Even with sticks, Deck was no match for Adam's god-tier speed and bullet-time hacks. The weapons were useless—he couldn't land a hit.
Adam, meanwhile, turned Deck's head into a drum, tapping out a rhythm. Anyone into Eastern tunes might've yelled, "General's Order!"
Yep, Adam was riffing off that scene from Flirting Scholar—Tang Bohu's trick to mess with the doctor sent by Prince Ning. Except now, it was all percussion. And like Tang Bohu said, it was pretty damn satisfying! 😏
"Stop!" Deck yelled, finally breaking. No amount of grit could take this one-sided beatdown. He opened his mouth to call it quits—
But in bullet time, Adam saw it coming. Before Deck could finish, Adam sped up, wrapping up his percussion cover of "General's Order" and landing one last punch—right on Deck's untouched right eye.
No choice! With OCD buddies like Sheldon and Monica rubbing off on him, Adam couldn't leave it uneven. An unfinished beat or an asymmetrical smack? Wouldn't kill him, but it'd bug him all day.
Emmm.
Looking at Deck—now sporting twin black eyes like a panda—Adam let out a relieved sigh.
There. Perfectly balanced. Time to clock out.
"How'd you do that?!" Deck growled, wincing through the pain. Even his usual ice-cold, unshakable vibe cracked as he gaped at Adam.
"Lots of people ask that… Don't bother!" Adam said, scrunching his face.
That familiar "how'd you do it" line sparked some fond memories—but this panda-faced bald guy was ruining the vibe big time.
"…" Deck—freshly evolved from Bald Deck to Panda Buddha Deck—felt his edge and pride shatter in front of Adam.
He got it now. No grudge, no beef—peace was the real win!
"I've always been in good shape. Plenty of people know that…" Adam said, realizing the fight wasn't the end—easing the guy's mind was. He stuck out his hand. "We good now?"
Panda Buddha Deck met Adam's steady gaze, stared for a beat, then shook his hand. "Yeah, we're good."
Adam locked eyes, channeling every trick he'd picked up from Juno. His super brain whirred, sizing up this "Buddha" vibe. Was it the wise, enlightened kind from myths? Or the petty, grudge-holding type from Journey to the West or The God of Cookery—the kind that'd curse you forever over one slight?
If it was the latter, Adam was ready to pull a Tai Chi combo—soft and hard—to take him out.
But unless it was life-or-death, he'd rather not. Guys like Deck were connected—pull one thread, and the whole web shakes. Adam couldn't guarantee his loved ones' safety if it blew up.
There were options, sure—but again, not worth it unless he had no choice.
Lucky for him, Deck read the room. He dropped the "fight to the death" vibe and took the olive branch.
Say what you will—Panda Buddha Deck was a mix of good and bad, not pure evil.
"Next time, though, I'll get you back," Deck said, squeezing Adam's hand a little harder.
"Keep it fair—no dirty tricks—and I'm game anytime," Adam replied, squeezing back with enough force to make Deck's face stiffen.
That clinched it: Adam wasn't just faster—he was stronger too.
Deck lost fair and square.
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