?Chapter 120:
“Our chief instructor from Doomsday Base!” Terry dered with pride
“Exactly!” Marc replied, pping his thigh in excitement. “How could I forget? The sight of ck Snake epting the task was so startling that it slipped my mind. If we manage to bring in our chief instructor, we won’t have any worries.”
Connor turned to his two bodyguards and asked, “Are you talking about the woman known as ck Mallow?”
“Yes!” Terry confirmed with a nod
Connor now understood exactly whom they were discussing. He had heard tales of ck Mallow from Doomsday Base. It was said she had exceptional skills and that Zyair Ortiz, the King of Doomsday Base, had appointed her as his sessor. Rumors had swirled that ck Mallow had vanished from public view, leading Connor to specte that she might have either died or suffered crippling injuries from intense martial arts training. Now that Marc and Terry had brought her up, his interest was reignited
“Where is your chief instructor currently?”
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Marc and Terry both shook their heads. “We’re not sure.”
Connor sneered, a trace of scorn flickering in his eyes. “You don’t know her whereabouts, yet you propose I hire her. How exactly am I supposed to do that?”
“Mr. Daniels, please calm yourself,” Marc replied. “While it’s true we don’t know the chief instructor’s current location, we could request King to summon her from her retreat. Our King is quite fond of wealth. Offer a substantial sum, and he’ll surely be swayed.”
Connor was amused by the suggestion. In the martial realm, the Doomsday Base and its founder, Zyair, were regarded with fear, yet these two who trained under him viewed him as nothing more than a greedy elder ready to trade his student for cash. When Marc and Terry applied for their bodyguard roles, they presented gold-level credentials from the Doomsday Base. Such credentials not only qualified them to meet both King and the elusive chief instructor, ck Mallow
Curiosity piqued, Connor inquired, “And just how formidable is this chief instructor?”
At his question, Marc and Terry grimaced, their bodies tensing as if recalling a deep-seated pain. “It’s best we forget those memories,” Terry muttered, massaging his forehead
Taking a deep breath, Marc exined, “Well, all of our chief instructor’s techniques were imparted by King, yet she exceeded him. Each sparring session they had ended with King in agony.”
Connor’s smile twitched, bemused by the notion of a student besting her mentor at Doomsday Base. “And what do those pained expressions of yours signify?”
“It’s an instinctive reaction,” Terry replied, dabbing at a tear. “The chief instructor not only possesses unmatched martial prowess but also a fiery temper. Cross her, and you’re in for a severe thrashing. Almost every student at the base has endured her wrath. We’ve taken to calling her the Mad Reaper in whispers.”
Connor let out a soft chuckle. “Did she really beat both of you?”
Marc winced. “She broke three of my ribs.”
Terry grimaced. “And I ended up with a fractured leg.”
Connor’s lips twitched slightly as he tried to picture the chief instructor. “You guys don’t hate her for that?”
Both Marc and Terry shook their heads in sync. “Nope.”
Connor furrowed his brows, puzzled. How could they not despise someone who had injured them so severely? Were they masochists?
Terry suddenly burst into a sheepishugh. “Every time she thrashed us, she’d arrogantly throw down a challenge. If you’re not happy, get stronger and try to take me down. If you can’t manage that, then just deal with it, weaklings! The more she beat us, the more we burned with a desire to beat her. That hatred drove us to train harder, endure the brutal sessions, and eventually, it even earned us a ce to study under King. A couple of yearster, we faced her, determined to take her down. Instead, she beat us to a pulp again. We spent months recovering.”
Marc chuckled along with Terry. “But after that, we stopped hating her.”
Connor looked even more baffled. “Why is that?”
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