From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 308

Chapter 308: No Turning Back

No one remained in Max’s path. Everyone who might have stopped him, Na, Montez, even the more dangerous fighters, were either tied up or already taken care of. At the same time, the Bloodline Group was holding their own with remarkable coordination. For the first time, they were facing down real gangs and proving they could stand shoulder to shoulder with each other.

Because of that, Max didn’t need to spare even a flicker of worry for them. His entire focus could be directed at the fight that truly mattered, the one standing directly in front of him.

Chrono.

Max wasted no time. He surged forward, his fist drawn back before swinging it with all the weight of his fury, aiming straight for Chrono’s head.

But to his surprise, Chrono parried the strike aside with practiced ease.

Snarling, Max followed up immediately, his anger pushing him into a relentless rhythm. He unleashed punch after punch, rapid strikes aimed for Chrono’s face, his ribs, his gut, yet each one was blocked, redirected, or slapped away. Chrono’s defense was solid, his hands moving sharply, efficiently, like a man who had been here before.

When Max’s barrage paused for the briefest instant, just long enough for him to draw breath, Chrono’s fist shot forward. A clean, sharp strike slammed into Max’s stomach.

The blow forced Max back several steps, his boots scraping against the pavement. For the first time in the exchange, he was the one who had taken a hit.

"What’s wrong?" Chrono asked, his voice low but laced with arrogance. "Did you really think I didn’t know how to fight? I was in the military. I’m trained, and there’s a reason why the others follow me."

Chrono flexed his hand, feeling the sting of the punch he’d just landed. Max’s body was tough, shockingly tough. It felt less like striking flesh and more like slamming into a wall. He had hoped to knock the wind out of him, but it had hardly slowed Max down.

Max straightened, his eyes locked on Chrono, and this time he didn’t charge in the same way. Instead of sticking to the boxing techniques he’d picked up from Steven, he shifted styles entirely.

He moved to kicks.

The same kicks he had copied from Dipter, the gangster he’d fought before. Against most opponents, they had worked incredibly well. Even experienced fighters often didn’t know how to properly handle them, especially when delivered with Max’s speed and force.

He lashed out, his leg swinging hard toward Chrono’s temple. Chrono raised his arms just in time, blocking the strike with a solid guard.

But Max didn’t stop there. His body spun, momentum carrying him into another kick, this one angled from the opposite side.

Only, Chrono didn’t retreat.

Instead, he stepped in, closing the distance before Max could fully extend the strike. The peak of Max’s power was cut short, smothered before it could land cleanly. Chrono shoved forward, his weight crashing into Max.

The impact disrupted his balance, and Max stumbled, dropping to the ground and rolling across the pavement. But with sheer determination, he forced himself up again, rising quickly, his eyes never leaving Chrono.

Chrono’s eyes widened. This... this is Na’s fighting style. Short, compact strikes, the entire body twisting with each blow. Even when blocked, they numb the opponent’s arms. But this kid, he’s not Na. How could he copy it? From the few times they’ve fought side by side? No... it shouldn’t be possible.

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