The big man was fast—but Riley was faster.
Pak!
The wooden staff snapped forward with merciless precision, striking upward with bone-crushing force.
It smashed into the man's groin, the sound sickening, like a melon splitting open.
"Ahhhhhh!" The brute's scream tore through the training grounds, raw and full of agony.
His massive frame folded as he dropped to his knees, clutching at himself in vain.
But Riley didn't pause—didn't even blink.
Pak! Pak!
Two swift strikes followed—clean, efficient, and terrifying in their accuracy.
The first blow slammed into his throat, a sharp crack echoing as cartilage gave way.
The big man gagged violently, his eyes bulging as he fought for air.
Spit and blood dribbled down his chin. He clawed at his own neck, desperation etched across his contorted face.
The crowd stood frozen. No one had time to shout or move. Everything happened too fast.
Riley stepped forward, his expression cold, almost serene.
