NTR: Minor Villain Wants to Be the Main Villain - Chapter 136

Chapter 136: One Sided Heavy Hands!
“You see that, Lily?” He flexed his fingers. “That’s called an uppercut. It’s a basic move in boxing. You punch the chin, and the opponent gets thrown upward.”

Lily nodded dumbly, her mind barely processing the words.

Her legs trembled.

This…

This wasn’t like the bar fights she had seen growing up, all wild swings and clumsy grappling. No—Artis fought with grace, with precision.

Fast. Too fast.

And the impact behind that punch?

Gods, she couldn’t even imagine what it must’ve felt like.

A shiver rolled down her spine, but not from fear.

It was the first time she had ever witnessed a man fight like this.

And her body reacted.

The dangerous, forbidden kind of reaction.

“You DARE?!”

One of the remaining thugs snapped out of his fear-induced paralysis, his meaty fists clenching as he charged forward, roaring like an idiot.

Artis sighed.

“Man,” he muttered, rubbing his temple as if this whole situation personally offended him. “You all are stupid—just like the goons in a shitty action movie.”

The thug was closing in fast, murder in his eyes.

Artis… yawned.

“You just watched one of your friends get launched into the stratosphere, and your first instinct is to charge me head-on? What kind of stupidity—”

The thug threw a wild punch.

Artis vanished.

Lily blinked.

For a split second, it was like he had just ceased to exist.

Then—

CRACK.

A blinding blur of motion.

The thug’s head snapped sideways, his whole body twisting unnaturally before his feet left the ground entirely.

He spun.

Twice.

Then collapsed in a heap.

Unconscious.

Done.

A feather could’ve knocked over the remaining men.

Lily swore she could hear the exact moment their balls retracted back into their bodies.

The air shifted.

The fear was palpable.

Artis stood over the unconscious thug, rolling his wrist like he had just casually slapped a mosquito.

He exhaled, turning back to the rapidly paling workers with a lazy smirk.

“Two down,” he said, voice smooth as silk. “So… who’s next?”

The workers’ faces contorted into a cocktail of rage and humiliation, their collective testosterone levels surging to compensate for the rapid loss of dominance in the air.

“You little shit! You think you can just—”

One of the bigger guys—a real beef slab of a man, all muscle and no brain—charged forward, throwing a punch meant to end bloodlines.

“Die, bastard!”

He roared, his knuckles slicing through the air.

Artis barely looked interested.

“Yeah, yeah…”

He sighed, tilting his head ever-so-slightly to the left.

WHOOSH!

The massive fist missed, sailing harmlessly past Artis’s face like an idiot bird that had just smacked into a window.

The worker’s eyes bulged.

“What the—?”

Artis grinned.

“Got you.”

Before the thug could process how profoundly he had fucked up, Artis’s knee came up like a divine punishment sent by the heavens straight into his unprotected, vulnerable, soon-to-be-destroyed family jewels.

CRACK.

Time stopped.

A sound that no man should ever have to hear rang out. A noise so devastating, so primally horrifying, that even the other workers instinctively clenched their thighs together in subconscious sympathy.

Then—

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARRRRGGGHHH!!!”

The big guy’s voice hit an octave so high, dogs five miles away started barking.

His knees buckled.

His eyes crossed.

His entire body convulsed as he collapsed onto the dirt, rolling around like a dying cockroach, his hands clutching his shattered dignity.

Artis stood over him, watching with mild amusement, like he had just stepped on an inconvenient bug.

“Oooooooohhh?”

A soft gasp from behind him.

Lily.

Her entire body tensed, her thighs pressing together at the sheer ferocity of the attack she had just witnessed.

“Don’t worry,” Artis said, glancing back at her with a smug little smirk. “His nuts were just weak.”

He paused, then added with the confidence of a man who had personally tested his own durability:

“Mine are steel.”

Silence.

The other workers stood, gaping at him.

Lily’s face turned a shade of red so intense it could have rivaled a setting sun.

“S-SHAME…!”

One worker stuttered, his hands still cupped over his own crotch protectively.

“DOES HE HAVE NO SHAME?!”

Another one cried, his voice cracking under the weight of second-hand trauma.

Lily’s face was so red it looked like she had just stepped out of a steam bath. Her thighs squeezed together involuntarily.

What the hell was wrong with her? Was it the way he moved? The confidence? The absolute disregard for these men’s survival?

She didn’t know. But one this she know was that she was fucking impressed with the way he carried himself.

“Fucking shameless bastard, here I come!”

One of the remaining thugs—a stocky, gorilla-limbed brute—charged at Artis, his face twisted in rage, his massive hands reaching out like he was about to grab him.

Artis barely even looked at him.

With a casual sway, he ducked under the outstretched arms, grabbed the idiot by the wrist, and with a movement so fluid it looked practiced, flung the poor bastard over his head in a perfect, textbook suplex.

THWAM!

The worker screamed as his back cracked against the hard ground, his legs flailing helplessly in the air before falling limply beside him.

“Oh my fucking God, he broke his spine!!”

One of the other men shrieked, his beer belly jiggling with fear.

Artis casually cracked his knuckles and flashed a devilish grin.

“Yeah, don’t worry though,” he said smoothly, rolling his shoulders, “yours is next.”

The group collectively shuddered.

“Y-you…!!!”

RAAAAAHHHH!

They charged—all of them, at once, arms swinging wildly, faces red with pure rage.

Artis?

He looked bored.

“Ah, shit,” he yawned, stepping effortlessly between their attacks. “It’s always the dumb ones that rush in headfirst…”

A fist flew toward his face—he leaned back, letting it graze past his nose. Another one swung for his ribs—he twisted his torso, slipping through the attack like a ghost. A boot came for his shin—he casually hopped over it, landing gracefully like a cat.

Lily watched, slack-jawed.

This wasn’t a normal street fight.

This was a fucking massacre.