Chapter 22 Don't Mess with the Untouchables

Edward rarely visited the Fencing Club when there was no need; it was usually managed by others in his absence.

He spent most of his time in the gym, assisting coaches and guiding his juniors.

He had just arrived today when he was told a guest had specifically requested to spar with him.

"I've made it clear I don't offer private sessions," Edward said, taking off his jacket and opening Facebook on his phone.

Eleanor didn't reply.

", They said it's someone from the Quinn family in Nan City, the Family Patriarch, Aaron."

Edward's thumb paused on his phone at the mention of the name, recalling what Grayson had shared about Eleanor's identity, though he was unaware of the deeper connection between her and Aaron.

He turned around, "Fine, let me change."


Ashton had been meaning to hit the bars with Aaron for a drink. Upon hearing Aaron was at the Fencing Club nearby, just a five-minute drive away, he ditched the plan.

"What happened to your hand?" Ashton asked, his professional sensitivity as a doctor kicking in.

As he slipped into his fencing gear, Aaron glanced at the back of his hand with an air of indifference. His mind wandered to the image of a woman, her coy teary eyes, silently biting her lip, her seductive gaze beseeching him.

She probably didn't realize that look didn't make her appear pitiable at all. She seemed more like an amorous cat.

"Cat scratch," Aaron said nonchalantly.

"Man, what kind of cat dares to scratch a Quinn heir?" Ashton ribbed with a little schadenfreude.

"A stray."

"You better go get a rabies shot," Ashton said earnestly, knowing well that a scratch from a stray was no minor matter, especially not for someone of Aaron's prestigious status.

But Aaron just gave him a look that somehow sent a shiver down Ashton's spine without understanding why.

"Did I say something wrong?"

Helmet in hand, Aaron headed out. "Got scratched enough times. I've got immunity now."

Ashton was dumbfounded: "...?"

Edward, freshly changed into his fencing attire, arrived at the studio with his assistant in tow.

As he walked in, phone in hand, he joked, "Edward, are you in love or what?"

"Soon," Edward teased him.

His assistant was stunned. "Finally have a crush on someone, huh?"

Their conversation was neither loud nor soft, but in the hushed, spacious studio, it carried.

A metallic "ding" rang out.

Edward knew the sound all too well. He paused mid-stride and looked up the stairs.

The figure in the fencing gear was tall and statuesque. You couldn't see his face behind the mask, but there was an unmistakable aura of innate nobility you couldn't ignore.

The man held a fencing épée with polished expertise that spoke of more than just casual training. The crisp sound had come from the blade.

"Mr. Quinn, this is Edward," the assistant introduced.

Aaron's eyes were sharp and detached behind his mask. "I know," he said.

Edward shifted his helmet from his right hand to his left and extended his hand in greeting. "Mr. Quinn."

There was a two-second freeze in the air.

Aaron took his hand briefly.

Ashton stood off to the side, puzzled by the strange tension. He was curious to see whether Aaron or this retired athlete had the upper hand.

...

In the first bout, Aaron knocked Edward's épée right out of his grip.

"Is this your professional level?" Aaron's voice was chilly.
Edward hadn't expected Aaron to be such a formidable fencer, almost on par with the pros.

He had held back, and Aaron had seen right through it.

He was an opponent worth giving his all.

Edward picked up his foil again. “Sorry,” he said.

Ashton wasn't particularly interested in fencing, but that didn't stop his heart from racing, especially as the two combatants on the stage were evenly matched, neither able to find an opening in the other's defense.

There was a moment Aaron almost landed a hit on Edward, but with a flick of his wrist, Edward narrowly dodged. Ashton stood up, tension gripping him, and then almost gasped as Aaron came just as close to being skewered.

He never felt this on edge during surgeries!

When the clock ran out,

It was a draw.

Edward was the first to remove his helmet and stride over to Aaron, who also took off his helmet.

"Mr. Quinn, you're quite skilled. I apologize for any previous oversight," Edward said, offering his hand and seeing Aaron's face clearly for the first time. No wonder people spoke highly of him.

It was a skill Quinn couldn't hide.

"Same here." Aaron shook his hand briefly.

Stepping down from the platform, Ashton handed Aaron a bottle of water. "I thought you had him beat."

Aaron tilted his head back, his Adam's apple bobbing with each gulp, his defined muscles covered in a sheen of sweat, emitting an intense hormonal presence. Releasing a breath heated from the exertion, he screwed the cap back on. "He's a former Olympic champ. You think I could just casually beat him? What am I to you?"

Ashton poked fun, "Right, you're just a notch below him."

Aaron gave him a frosty look and tossed the water bottle at him. Ashton caught it and chuckled at Aaron's departing figure.

They continued until late into the night, always ending in a stalemate.

Edward hadn't had such a satisfying challenge in a long time.

Aaron had not only skill but also remarkable stamina.

After five bouts, Edward’s heartbeat had noticeably quickened, yet when he approached Aaron, he realized Aaron's breathing was still steady; he would be a fearsome opponent in any competition.

In the end, they were still evenly matched.

Edward, having given it his all, removed his helmet. His chest heaved as he took a long breath and approached Aaron, but this time, Aaron extended his hand first.

Edward grasped it firmly.

In a whisper meant only for them, Aaron warned him, "You're certainly impressive, but stick to your own field. Don't mess with the wrong people."

Edward paused, but was quick on the uptake. "Who are you referring to, Mr. Quinn?"

"You really don't know?" The man's tone carried a thread of undeniable pressure.
Edward's face, slick with sweat, bore an honest admission. "If you're talking about Eleanor, then I'm sorry, but yes, I like her."

The man opposite him flashed a dangerously cold glint in his eyes, and he mocked. "You like her, just like that, without truly knowing her?"

Edward was momentarily taken aback but quickly recovered with a smile. "If she gives me a chance, I'll take my time getting to know her."

"Then go ahead and try."

...

Ashton joined Aaron in changing clothes, leaning against the locker as he watched Aaron emerge from his shower, refreshed and clear-headed. "What were you two whispering about on stage?"

Aaron remained silent.

Ashton glanced at the palm of Aaron's hand and hissed. Blood blisters had formed. "Why push yourself so hard? It's not like you're going for a gold medal or anything."

"I never noticed you had such an interest in fencing before. The way you and Edward matched each other strike for strike, that must have been something, huh?"

Aaron paused in the midst of dressing, then coolly threaded his arms through his shirt and adjusted the cuffs. "A worthy opponent?"

"You almost lost," Ashton blurted out recklessly.

"But I didn't. Almost is not the same as actually losing," Aaron retorted.

Annoyed by Aaron's smugness and unable to come up with a comeback, Ashton recalled something that excited him. "I just remembered why Edward looked so familiar! Isn't he the guy who had that matchmaking date with the girl from your family's Heavenly Fairy Hall?"

Aaron finished buttoning his shirt and slipped into his suit jacket, grabbing his charcoal overcoat as he strode out, the chilly air trailing him causing Ashton to shiver.

"Where are you going?"

"You wanted to grab drinks, didn't you?" Aaron called back without turning.

Ashton hurried to keep up, pondering why Aaron seemed in such a foul mood that evening.

Who had upset him?

And who would dare?

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