From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 196

Chapter 196: Max Vs Rick (Part 2)

Rick had thrown his strongest punch, the same devastating blow that had once stopped even Mayson from getting back up. That same fist had crumpled others before they even knew what hit them.

And yet... There Max stood. Upright. Calm. Smiling.

His lips curled, almost tauntingly, as if to say Was that it?

"Hey... is it just me," Joe asked, blinking in disbelief, "or did Max take that hit on purpose?"

It wasn’t just Joe thinking that. From the West side of Brinherst, murmurs echoed the same suspicion.

"I think you’re right," Steven said, crossing his arms as he watched from the stands. "I’ve seen how Max fights. He’s too skilled to take a hit like that unless he wanted to. He’s got techniques, dozens of them, he could’ve used to dodge or redirect it."

"Maybe..." Mayson muttered, his mouth swollen and voice raspy, "he was just scared. I’ve taken punches from Rick. They hurt."

"No," a calm, deep voice said.

It was Aron.

He hadn’t spoken a single word during any of the previous fights, not even when the others had gone up. But now that it was Max’s turn... he spoke.

And immediately, a wave of silence fell across those near him.

"His voice, it’s so smooth and straight!" one of the Seaton High girls whispered, heart practically in her eyes. Her friends giggled and leaned in closer, enamored.

"He blocked up top," Aron explained, tone steady. "Way too early. That wasn’t instinct. It was intention. He wanted Rick to hit his stomach."

"Why would anyone do that?" Joe asked.

"Because Max was sending a message," Aron said plainly. "To everyone watching. Especially to Rick. ’Even your best hit... can’t stop me.’ That kind of move, it’s psychological. Someone like Rick, who’s used to ending fights with a few punches, relies on fear. But what happens when the fear doesn’t work?"

In the cage, Rick’s eyes burned with rage.

"Get that damn smile off your face!" he shouted, launching another punch.

But this time, Max moved.

He leaned back just enough, the punch swiping the air in front of him. Then he stepped sideways, keeping just out of reach.

Rick kept swinging wildly, fury overtaking form. And Max danced just beyond his range, never striking back. He was studying. Reading.

Rick’s style was raw power, his entire approach relied on ending things quickly with brute strength. Precision didn’t matter to him because most people never lasted long enough to exploit his weaknesses.

But Max? Max had studied dozens of fighters.

And more than that, he had learned.

’If I really wanted to,’ Max thought, ’I could end this with the techniques I learned from Steven, from Dipter, even from Dud. I could dodge, counter, take him out clean. But if I do that... it’ll just turn into a slugfest. A brawl. It won’t make the impact I need.’

He paused. Waited.

’I need something bigger.’

Suddenly, Max jumped back. Then raised his right arm into the air, pointing straight to the sky.

A single, deliberate gesture.

From the stands, Aron’s eyes lit up. That was the signal.

Immediately, he pulled out his phone and made the call.

Everything Max had set up, the weeks of planning, the late-night instructions, the quiet backdoor dealings, was now coming into play.

"Right," Aron said into the receiver. "Place ten million... on Red."

The crowd didn’t know what was happening. But the weight of that call? The consequences of that bet?

They were massive.

Most online betting platforms had strict limits. Max had discovered that the Vow worked best when there was real risk involved, when the stakes could alter his future.

If he placed a massive bet and won, the Vow would boost his strength by a specific percentage. The more risk, the bigger the gain. But that kind of money? Ten million? No ordinary site would accept it.

Only the bigger underground organizations would.

Which is why Max had sent Aron on a mission, one he had carried out without question. He had found one of those organizations, used Max’s name and phrases exactly as instructed, and gained temporary membership to place the bet.

Max had calculated the odds. Even if he lost the bet, the fight would still be winnable, just harder.

But if he won? Then he wouldn’t just beat Rick.

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