The Silver Fang Dojo.
Once lively and filled with disciples, now it was desolate and quiet.
Ever since Garou had defeated all the students, no one dared to come practice anymore.
"Master! You're back! Is this your new student?"
Charanko, the last remaining disciple, was wiping the floor when Bang entered.
Garou had been placed elsewhere in the dojo, under temporary confinement. Bang hadn't yet decided what to do with him.
"Mm."
Bang glanced at Charanko, his eyes tinged with doubt.
The boy was loyal, but his talent was abysmal. Even the most basic techniques were beyond him. Compared to Garou, who had mastered Ryūsui Ganseki Ken (Flowing Water Crushing Rock Fist) in three days, Charanko was nothing.
And because of that, Bang would never entrust him with the dojo's secrets. Without strength, possessing such a technique was only a death sentence.
"Master Bang?!"
Charanko's eyes widened at the sight of the taller, white-bearded elder by Bang's side.
It was Bomb, the Whirlwind Iron Fist Grandmaster, a living legend.
"Charanko, prepare the training ground. I'll be dueling with Saitama."
Bang ordered.
"Y-You… you'll fight him?" Charanko stammered.
"Go."
Bang's voice left no room for argument. The disciple hurried off to prepare.
Soon, the dojo floor was cleared.
Saitama jingled the thick envelope of yen in his hands.
One hundred and twenty million yen.
"So much cash… this old man's loaded. Even richer than Emperor Tōritsu."
The bald hero grinned ear to ear.
Both Charanko and Bomb exchanged helpless looks. Was this truly the hero who crushed Garou? To them, Saitama looked more like a money-obsessed slacker than a martial artist.
"Relax. This is just a spar. I'll hold back, so you won't get hurt," Bang said confidently.
Saitama nodded absently.
Bomb stroked his beard. "If you can't even handle my brother, facing me will be far more dangerous."
Charanko clenched his fists. "Such arrogance… Master and Grandmaster Bomb are both martial arts titans. This bald guy has no idea what he's facing!"
"I'll begin, Saitama!"
Bang surged forward.
Ryūsui Ganseki Ken!
Azure energy shimmered around his hand, his strike tracing a flawless arc.
Compared to Garou's raw technique, Bang's was simpler, more refined—power perfected through decades.
"Impressive! Brother, you've brought the technique to its peak!" Bomb shouted in praise.
Charanko, of course, didn't understand a thing.
Bang's strike crashed down onto Saitama's shoulder.
The dojo floor exploded beneath them, wood splintering into fragments.
"This blow should leave you incapacitated," Bang thought, sighing.
But as the dust cleared—
Saitama stood there, unharmed. His shirt slightly torn, his eyes bored.
"That's a little stronger than Garou's punch."
Bang froze.
"What…?"
Both Charanko and Bomb sucked in sharp breaths.
"He withstood it head-on?!"
"Brother, together!" Bang snapped.
Bomb's eyes narrowed. "Understood."
They moved in unison. Years of training made their timing perfect, their power more than doubled.
"Zantetsuken (Iron-Cutting Fist)!"
Bomb's right arm darkened, veins bulging as his flesh hardened like steel. His strike cleaved the air like a blade, aimed straight for Saitama's shining bald head.
"Zantetsuken!!"
The dojo quaked as the two martial arts masters struck together.
And Saitama… simply watched them with his same tired, empty gaze.
(End of Chapter)
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