Oriental Fighter Novels & Stories

He spun around theatrically, holding the crowd of timid townspeople in the palm of his hand, “For her mate - her chosen one is Rocco Valence! Or as you know him, the orphan of the last whore to get her throat slit on these cobbles.” The crowd mumbled and whispered together, checking the perimeter I saw Selene’s blonde sisters hovering nearest to the cage. Adam, the one from the photographs was nowhere to be seen, I’d rather know where that sneaky fucker was before it all kicks off. Wicknace then suddenly threw the axe at us with a strength that was surprising considering his fat, ancient age. As we separated to avoid the spinning blade the three of them shifted. Jimmy and Julien were huge, w

Khalid exclaimed, gripping his sword tightly. "Sir Khalid forgive us. The strength of the two of you seems to threaten the entire Sect on this land! We'd better get rid of you from the face of this earth, rather than the names of both of you overshadowing our big names later, "said Zou Fan who is currently known to be the number one strongest warrior in the land of the martial jungle at this time. "Hahaha..Are you sure that only you exist?" shouted Khalid, who was getting angry because he felt trapped by everyone's game in front of him.

Only the faintest twitch at the edge of his jaw betrayed anything, and even that I wasn’t sure of. He wasn’t just watching. He was weighing. Judging. Holding back a storm so carefully that no one else could see it. Xalor wasn’t fighting for himself. Every strike, every drop of blood, every victory—it was for Jude. And what would happen if he lost? The crowd roared again, pulling me back. The Eastern champion swung wildly now, his blood loss making him reckless. He swung a huge clawed arm at Xalor’s head. Xalor ducked under it, rolled to the side, and drove his elbow into the champion’s skull.

Harsh fluorescent lights were swinging above in the otherwise dark underground room, and the smell of blood was thick in the air. Ah, smells like teen spirit. “You’re fucking dead tonight!” said the big bald guy in thick Russian accent. “Ha!” the other fighter spat and let out this animalistic growl. Blood was gushing from the side of his face, but his eyes were still full of life and fire. The two fighters locked eyes with a desire to kill, seething and snarling threateningly. With seconds, the two lunged at each other, grabbing, punching, and kicking, doing whatever they could to knock down the opponent.

Someone wanted us dead. Suddenly, a fearless enemy fighter sprung from the darkness, intending to take us by surprise. But Chuks's training had been honed in Japan, his reflexes to perfection. With a swift movement, he unsheathed his katana the assailant's head rolled on the floor our eyes met, and he nodded.