Chapter 104 The Half-Step Crushing Fist

Remington smiled when he saw Ethan enter.
"It seems that Boston really doesn't have any masters, and the Miller family indeed has no one left," Remington mused thoughtfully.
Ethan didn't speak. He took his hands out of his pockets, letting them hang loosely by his sides, appearing completely relaxed and lacking the demeanor of a master.
Everyone shook their heads, thinking that Ethan would soon be defeated by Remington.
The faces of the Miller family members tensed up, especially Joseph and Edwin. They believed that Ethan had a chance to create a miracle.
Having seen some of Ethan's skills, they truly felt like he had a chance to win, albeit a small one.
"I'll give you a chance. Surrender now, and I might consider showing you a bit of mercy,” Remington said.
“I’ll also give you a chance too. If you can withstand five moves from me, I'll take you as my disciple," Ethan said seriously.
Ethan’s confident retort caused an uproar on the spot.
"What nonsense is he talking about? Withstand five moves? I think he, himself, won't withstand three moves from Remington!"
"Yeah, who does he think he is?! How dare he think he can make Remington his disciple?! Is he crazy?"
"Although it sounds exciting; it's also foolish! Coming from him, it just sounds ridiculous."
Everyone shook their heads, thinking Ethan was out of his mind to speak to the powerful Remington in such a manner.
Remington was also taken aback, then his expression turned dark as he said coldly, "Who do you think you are?!"
Ethan looked at him expressionlessly and asked, "Are we fighting or not? Cut the crap!"
"Do you think I'm at a disadvantage after fighting two matches, that my stamina is depleted and you can take advantage of that?" Remington chuckled with disdain.
"I can tell you've been conserving energy," Ethan stated flatly.
Remington sneered, "You've got some insight! But I will show no mercy."
As Ethan executed a swift move, Remington's expression turned grave. He stepped quickly to the right, his footsteps thundering as he took three quick steps to catch up to Ethan. His right hand swung as his left guarded his chest, his fist hammering down towards Ethan's temple like a sledgehammer.
Ethan took a deep breath and exhaled sharply. He then placed his right hand along the centerline of his body, pulling up and bracing it against his forehead.
His palm perfectly blocked Remington's punch.
Why was he so strong?! Remington, who was strong himself, felt a tremendous force erupt as Ethan's palm lifted, threatening to send him flying.
Remington pursed his lips and stepped forward with his right foot, stabilizing his center of gravity and stepping directly between Ethan's legs. He then swung his right hip, his knee aiming for the inside of Ethan's thigh.
Ethan didn't retreat. His lifted palm suddenly dropped, slashing through the air like a broadsword!
Remington was startled once more, and at the same time, his knee struck Ethan's thigh.
Remington felt like he had just hit a steel plate. His inner thigh, which should have been soft, felt as hard as iron, and the collision caused his own knee to ache.
Remington was even more astonished internally.
What kind of skills did this man possess? His resilience was beyond that of an ordinary person.
In his early years in prison, Ethan was constantly thrown to the ground and beaten by ruthless and violent inmates, which honed his strength.
As he grew, those inmates were no longer a match for him, and thus they all came to respect him.
Remington's arm, having been struck by Ethan's palm, immediately felt bone-deep pain. His own force was unable to bounce off Ethan's palm force.
Moreover, that palm force was clearly an overt force, yet when it struck the arm, it felt like a hidden force penetrating through him!
How capable was this man?! Remington was terrified and instantly retracted his limbs.
Just then, Ethan's rear foot stepped forward, not by much, just half a step.
At the same time, his fist sank down and thrust forward, and everyone heard a thud as if something had broken.
Remington was taken aback.
Ethan had just used a move mastered by Grandmaster Harold in prison, known as the "Half-Step Crushing Fist."
Because he was shackled, Harold could only move half a step at a time while practicing his punches. After being released, he found that he had grown accustomed to moving half a step at a time.
The power of this crushing fist was extraordinary.
Thus, Harold became a grandmaster with this move.
Remington's palms couldn't seal Ethan's fist, which rocketed through like a missile, passing between Remington's palms and landing heavily on his chest.
Remington's body didn't fly backward but instead, his shirt twisted into a bundle at the point of contact with Ethan’s fist, damp with moisture.
His body trembled violently as if electrocuted; his hands raised to cover his chest as he knelt down, and then, with a thump, he fell forward.
"What a pity, just three moves. If you had lasted two more, I might have been inclined to offer you some pointers," Ethan said casually while shaking his hand.
This scene left everyone present dumbfounded.
Connor couldn't help but bite his tongue hard. Remington had been defeated by such an unknown individual?
How could Boston have such a master?