Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem novel Chapter 1406

The boss’s eyes were full of approval. “A real man stands strong and proud!”

Evan might be a little wild, but he’s got a good heart and a bright future ahead of him—no doubt about it.

Frankly, the global martial arts scene had gone off course. Someone needed to set things right. Bernard and I, well, our time had passed. Now, all our hopes rested on Evan.

Suddenly, a sharp whistle cut through the air. The match was about to start.

From the crowd, the Thyanian fighters shouted at the top of their lungs, “Hit him! Go on! Smash him!”

On the other side, the Eastern fighters pumped their fists and cheered, “Let’s go! You got this!”

They might’ve just brawled backstage, but now everyone was desperate for their own team to win.

Up on the platform, Punikon’s dad was flexing like he was about to enter a hotdog-eating contest at the local fair. He shook his head, smirked, and swaggered over to Tarquin.

He looked Tarquin up and down, like he was checking out a scarecrow, and sneered, “Weakling!”

He flipped Tarquin the bird, just to make sure everyone saw.

The Thyanian supporters went wild, chanting in unison, “Weakling! Weakling! Weakling!”

The whole gym echoed with it.

Tarquin, mask on and brows furrowed, didn’t miss a beat. He dashed forward, grabbed Punikon’s dad’s outstretched middle finger—

CRACK! He broke it right there for all to see.

In the next breath, he grabbed the guy by the wrist and launched him with a judo throw that slammed him onto the mat. A couple more sickening cracks later, Punikon’s dad’s limbs were out of commission.

He howled in pain—a shriek that could’ve shattered the windows.

Suddenly, the whole place went dead silent. You could’ve heard a pin drop.

Tarquin hadn’t come here just for the fight; he wanted to make a statement to the whole Thyanian crowd.

His moves were sharp, ruthless, and precise. After he’d taken out Punikon’s dad’s arms and legs, he landed a few punches to the guy’s head—clean knockout.

The silence was eerie.

This was a “no holds barred” match—Tarquin could’ve finished him off if he wanted. And everyone knew it.

He finished with a cocky little smile, then strolled off, leaving the crowd reeling.

There was another beat of stunned silence—then the Eastern fighters erupted, jumping and shouting like their team had just won the Super Bowl.

“Damn, that felt good! So satisfying!”

“Did you hear that? Even our amateurs can KO you guys! Thyanian martial arts—what a joke!”

“Tiny Thyanian school? Handled! Easy!”

“See what true class looks like? This is what it means to have real stature! Signed a death match contract and still let the guy live—that’s sportsmanship!”

“And you know what else? That’s what a good husband looks like! Did you hear him? He listens to his wife! Man, he LOVES his wife!”

The Eastern fighters were beside themselves—elated, vindicated, finally standing tall after all the humiliation.

Their aches and bruises didn’t matter anymore.

Meanwhile, the Thyanian fighters, who’d been acting all tough before, were suddenly quiet as church mice.