48 REACHING OUT FISTS (1/2)
Subtle sparks of fire screaked out of Aziz's fist, ”You brought this upon yourself.” With a swift bend of the knee, he sprang forth, his twisting arm firing at Lirzod's face from behind like a fiery wolf pouncing on its prey.
With Sariyu standing by his side, holding a hand, Lirzod's body instinctively moved, and his forearm met the hot punch head-on. Blazing steam burst out of Aziz's fist during the impact, facilely ignited its way through the still-wet sleeve and scalded Lirzod's skin, pressuring his torso to bend astern. ”Nggh!” A flush of adrenaline tingled through his body, and his foot rose in response, crunched into Aziz's chin before a mid-air backspin assured his safe landing.
Nevertheless, Aziz's muscles and veins still strained against the skin, his chin unhurt.
”Wow,” a few people among the crowd slapped their hands against their cheeks. ”Nice move in return, but his arm must have already received significant damage in the collision.”
”Not bad, but it's futile against the brothers.”
”Yeah, he's trying to plant a ladder on the heavens[1]!” some among the crowd backed Aziz. ”Bring that little fella down!”
”Whoa, whoa,” the referee speedily ran to the spot before another exchange of attacks took place between the two, ”hold it right there.” He glared at Lirzod, ”You can't fight in the hall. Don't you even know that?”
”Why are you blaming just me?” Lirzod squinted his eyes and vociferated, not reflecting the pain in his hand on his face. ”He's the one who attacked me first.”
”Quiet,” the referee coldly said, his tone a breeze that breathed bad news, ”you passed the deck test, so just leave through whichever the exit you want, either the Winners Street or the Champs Street.” He swept an arm gesture.
”Leave?” Lirzod knitted his brows and replied in a held-back yet noisy breath. ”Who are you to tell me to leave? I'll leave whenever I want to. The walk down the victory lane can wait.”
The referee's posture stiffened from hearing that. What Lirzod had just said was utterly true after all. As long as an entry didn't create unwanted trouble, the referee didn't have the power to kick them out. Only a commander of the deck had such authority. Still, unable to hide their displeasure, the referee's eyes protruded as he spoke, ”Then do not fight in the hall.”
”You should tell that to them, not to me,” Lirzod grunted, owing to his temper that gradually worsened from the moment the referee had made the entrance, ”or, are you just too lily-livered to remind them the rules?”
The referee's shoulders jerked from hearing that, and his inability to meet Lirzod's eyes for that brief moment further solidified Lirzod's statement. Regardless, it was an open secret that referees favored the strong entries for trivial reasons.
”This hall is full,” Lirzod continued, sporting a somewhat hard jawline, ”go home. Hopefully, someone more capable will take your place.”
The audiences got astonished from hearing his needling words. For him to tell the referee to leave the hall, with what seemed like a poker face, how burly must his bowels be?
”You...” As the referee's grudging gaze met Lirzod, the rumbling rage in his stomach forced the intestines to squeeze out acids that could dissolve chicken bones. He clenched his fists, wanting to punch in Lirzod's stomach, but knowing that he would only be making himself look silly by doing that, he loosened his fist with a great effort before turning to Aziz. Though he said nothing, his eyes relayed much more information than his mouth could in as short of a time as it would take one to blink thrice.
The hotness around Aziz's fist simmered down; his heart, however, still squirmed in suppressed fury. ”I'll let him leave this hall in one piece.”
The referee thanked him with a blink of his eye before turning to Lirzod and discoursed in a raised voice, portraying the previous icy look, ”You are the one who first attacked him with your words. The wrong is on your side. For your good, I'd say that you touch his feet and beg for mercy, or else you're gonna get in trouble once you leave the hall.”
”What?” Lirzod knitted his brows, his shrewd gaze piercing up at the referee, ”You entirely ignored the fact that these five attacked me during the test.” He crossed the arms, ”I wonder how you got this position.” Shaking his head, he turned away from the referee and the brothers and began to walk, ”Besides, I just spoke the truth after coming out of the pool. If they are hurt by the truth, then I'm not responsible for it. Maybe, if they were kids, then I would have helped them digest the truth, but in truth, these brothers are easily twice as old as me.” He tried holding Sariyu's hand, but she refused.
Having had wasted his time on the affair at hand, the referee just shook his head in displeasure. At least, things settled a lot more peacefully than he thought, and it made him feel a bit proud of his achievement.
”Sorry, Big Brother…” Betts' voice came across Aziz's ears, deepening by the second. ”He insulted our past before this crowd.” Betts' brows squeezed together, his expression exhibiting a grimace of agony. ”Unless I disfigure his face in front of the very same crowd, I cannot peacefully sleep at night.”
”You picked the words right out of my mouth, brother,” Divas' face had long reddened, and he could no longer rein in his temper.
Centry, on the other hand, had already stepped past Aziz, letting his chagrin govern him.
Following those three, Fimbry also tagged right behind.
Together, they cut off the referee as he tried to speak to them, and the four of them hastened their feet toward Lirzod, their tightened hands prepared to pummel the target pitilessly. The crowd gawked with mouths open, for they had no doubt—if those four fists were to land in full, there would be no tomorrow for the boy with mostly black and part-white hairs.
Before any of the three youngsters could react to the reaching out fists, a weighty figure whooshed its way in, took the four jeopardous fists by the belly, ”Mountain Jam!” The crash reverberated in many an ear; howbeit, at the same time, the one who just blocked the attacks released a mass of gas through his mouth that resembled a brief burp, but the following fart hushed most noses and mouths in the hall. It was no regular gas dispossession, for it lasted full fourteen seconds and not just rivaled the earlier impact sound but thoroughly won over it by seeping through the noses of many, badly affecting even some nearby people, one of which also happened to be the red-haired girl.
Throughout the fourteen long seconds, different people felt either endangered or overawed by it for different reasons, but most hid their faces in tight spaces. Whoever dared to keep their eyes, noses, and mouths open suffered in various ways: itching in the noses, burning in the eyes, and awful tastes in the mouths.
After the ear-upsetting sound finally died out, most men inwardly cursed the first face they had seen after waking up that morning.
”I have never seen someone expel gas for as long and as deadly as this!” the crowd was petrified, to say the least, for all they could do was cover their noses as hard as they can but still couldn't help themselves from speaking out. ”Look, many people are passing out.”
”Who said that sound farts don't smell? My nose is now flaring worse than after when I sneeze it for a thousand times!”
”Forget about cows—he even puts elephants to shame.”
”Yeah, even gravediggers can't stand this shit.”
”I guess this means... Brown hill is on an entirely different level even in the class of farting.”
”Weather forecast for the next minute: whiffy,” Limon said, eyes flaring but his nose still shut. ”I advise everyone to keep their noses shut and also refrain themselves from drinking lemon juice for the next minute.”
”One minute is too long! And only you would want to drink lemon juice even in this situation,” some people who couldn't bear holding their noses shut anymore had to open them, knowing full well that they'd suffer.
777, meanwhile, had an alarmed expression. (Just now, he flew in like a feather!) He narrowed his eyes. (So he was hiding his strength after all.)
Hundred, who had been dragged into a discussion with the men near the betting counter, only just took a look toward the source of the scandalizing sound and got utterly puzzled by what was happening.
”Brown Hill!” Centry ground his teeth as the rest of the brothers also pulled back their fists. ”What's the meaning of this?”
”Uncle Pig!” Lirzod's eyes broadened a bit. Boksa would surely not be on Lirzod's list as to whom he would have expected to intercept the brothers in case if it were to happen. Seeing Boksa's gesture, he felt a thickness in the throat and became unnaturally quiet.
Boksa glanced back at Lirzod and spoke in a firm voice, ”Run before I change my mind.” As Lirzod paused a moment before starting to leave, Boksa looked back at the brothers, carrying his anger—an old snakeskin—to this moment, made known his bitter rage with his expression alone yet backed it with words, ”I'm in an awful mood right now, bubbly brothers. I'd watch myself if I were you.” Though it was a warning, his voice soothed over brothers' ears like the melody of a harp performed by a heavenly being.
”Get lost!” All the four brothers sprang at him like bulls sick in the head but not necessarily in the body.
Boksa bent his torso forward and lunged ahead, ”Knoll Chain Song!” An explosive series of palm thrusts slapped on the brothers' bodies at different parts—face, chin, throat, and chest—sending two of the brothers three steps back while the other two crashed on their backs.
Many members of the crowd were slack-jawed, for most of them have never seen Hardy Brothers fall in such fashion; however, the brothers got themselves together and attacked Boksa again in no time, thereby easing the amazement of the crowd just as fast.
”H-He just struck the four of them in one move!” the man standing beside Limon still couldn't let go of the bewilderment on his face. ”How fast can his hands get?”
”Yeah, for a mini-giant, his hands sure are fast,” Limon said, his nose still closed as he licked on a half piece of lemon.
”But he's significantly bigger than Hardy Brothers. How can he move faster than them?”
”He's got more muscle after all,” Limon casually answered.
”Muscle? Don't joke,” the man retorted, ”he's well-stocked with fat.”
”Idiot. Look carefully. He has well-developed muscles hidden underneath that fat.”