Deviant

Once Vincent began rushing forward, the flow of the fight transformed.

Just like how Vincent instantly turned the tables on Murobuchi, he began putting Hong on the back foot completely, a complete reversal of the beginning of the fight.

He could've blocked every single one of his attacks previously, but it was necessary for him to get a read on his opponent. So, he had to take hits to understand Hong better, so he could activate these countermeasures. He understands his rhythm, so Vincent doesn't need to hold back anymore.

"Shit!" Hong cursed. The attacks were just as fast as his and their aim was impeccable. If his intuition and caution didn't make him back away in time, he would've been knocked out already. Unfortunately, the timing to counterattack can't be met at the moment as the speed of the attacks will allow one to go through if he even dedicates anything else to nothing but defense.

And since the aim of the attacks are all vital spots, it could be dangerous.

'I should've expected this. My opponent, even if he is Western, has some decent knowledge of martial arts. His durability is annoying enough that I won't be able to take him out quickly.'

Which means that he had no choice.

Hong activated the opioids in his brain before taking a bow stance, letting a few attacks land on his body. Shutting down his sense of pain, he obstructed the nerves from sending signals to his brain that would knock him out. His charged up punch landed squarely on Vincent, who was disregarding defense to knock his foe out as quickly as possible.

As a result, he was mildly surprised and winded when the fist struck his chest and knocked him back. But not as surprised as Vincent, who didn't expect his opponent to make use of the strategy he was using. Excitement bubbling in his gut, he grinned and covered the ground lost in a single step, and punched forward. 

Hong ignored the strike to his chest and continued the offense and speared with his flexed fingers. Vincent's neck was the target. More specifically, his windpipe.

But he didn't aim for it yet. He needed to condition his opponent first.

An eye poke was parried by a slightly more wary Vincent before he once again punched forward. 

The dull impact to his cheek was nothing. All it did was push him back, but he didn't feel it. He could continue.

He needed to seize back control of the battle's momentum!

Those who were watching the fight, referee included, were taken in by the dance. The winds of change first flowed toward Vincent, then it flowed toward Hong. Nobody could expect where the match was going, yet the two CEOs who were going against each other had confidence in their chosen fighter.

However, Togo had an excessive amount of confidence in Hong because of his unique ability. That confidence made a bold and arrogant smile spread across her face, battering at Ohta's own confidence.

The fight heated up once more. Hong's strategy trying to nail his target was slowly being prepared. With his great speed, he pushed his body past its limits and made the pain nonexistent. He threw low kick after low kick, making Vincent's upper body drop lower and lower.

That was the opportunity Hong made for himself. An uppercut, hand facing forward like a spear, rose up to greet the falling neck. The hand and the fingers were hardened by partial training. Chinese martial arts always practice with the fingers so they can pierce through even concrete. A man's vulnerable neck would give way to Hong's technique.

A triumphant sensation rose within his chest as his fingers were just a mere few centimeters away from his target. The surprise in his target's eyes told him that this strike would land true. After that, he would target his liver and then dismantle the rest of him. 

Bones needed to be broken to put this man down.

A sickening crack rang out through the gymnasium.

Hong Xiao-Hu's fingers were broken. They were destroyed so severely that blood was spraying out from the spots where bone pierced through skin. The space between Hong's hand and Vincent's neck was so short, yet in that small space, an absolute instant of unknowability occurred.

The Chinese martial artist did not see what happened. One moment, he was slipping through the American's guard, the next, his opponent had his hands open and Hong was immediately put on the back foot.

It was too fast and he pulled back out of instinct, eyes naturally moving over to his ruined hand.

That was a mistake.

'Finally.'

Vincent took advantage of his opponent's vision straying just out of view from his right hand and he threw a hook right into the open jaw. He carried the motion fully through with the twisting of his hips and sent the man down, seemingly paralyzed from the knockout blow.

"W-what happened?!" Those words began the grand confusion of the crowd who saw a match with quite a few twists and turns. Hong held the advantage, then Vincent held the advantage, then Hong regained the advantage only for some of his fingers to get broken. The knockout blow was the coup de grace.

It was a thrilling finish to the fight.

"I'm glad I bet on him this time..." Those who made money and those who lost money. Both of them were taken aback by the ceaseless flow of battle. They loved this type of bloodsport no matter what.

Underground fights were not nice, nor were they kind. Those watching it know what they're in for and they love it greatly. Broken bones and torn muscles light the audience aflame with fervor. Even the referee had a shaky grin on his face. The sweat and the smile was a combination of fear and excitement.

The battle was thought to be over.

Vincent wore a self-deprecating smile on his face as he clenched and unclenched the hand that deviated Hong's attack through breaking bones. It's far cry from what the master of this technique did because Vincent couldn't do it instantly. He wasn't even planning on doing it initially, but it just happened with the flow of the fight. 

His wariness toward those fingers made him instinctually watch out for them and then they were broken was a result. 

The reason behind the disappointment plastered across his face is that he couldn't just stick to the standard brawling that he's used to. To use proper skill and act as a proper martial artist doesn't feel right because it would end fights too quickly...but he has to win for his boss.

"You're not done yet, right?" The breathing was too strong from Hong.

He opened his eyes with a strange calm.

No, that was just the calm before the storm. Behind those eyes was an emotion of fury that was bubbling just beneath the surface from getting completely out skilled from someone he perceived as slower than him and weaker than him.

"Get up Hong!!" The shout from his boss made him flip to his feet in a second. He stared at Vincent. The bones couldn't be set back into place. They were too damaged for that. He squeezed the other fingers into a fist and slammed it into ground with that severely injured hand and left a tiny crater in it.

"But that hand was ruined!!"

"Isn't that painful?"

"Don't you feel pain?" Vincent asked. The Chinese snorted with pride.

"My style is called Jiyi Quan. Its secret art is control over opioids in my brain. You know what that means, right?" He clenched his fist and ignored the blood flowing down his arm and dropping onto the ground.

"Yeah, it's almost like doping right? I've seen stuff like that before." There was an odd smile on Vincent's face.

Hong Xiao-Hu is a deviant. Vincent now knows this because of how he can ignore something so painful and even exacerbate the pain with a smile on his face. Something like that is so far beyond the realms of normal it's not even funny, yet the American could only don a simple smile on his face and respond like a friend told him something interesting.

"Really? So, this is what it looks like on the other side." He took his glasses off and threw it to the side. His vision was clear and he could perfectly see the flow and rhythm of his opponent. The reading is flawless now.

"Ha! You get what you're dealing with now, you fucker?! You might as well surrender if you don't want to be a cripple! Hong won't hesitate in this state!!"

Vincent ignored the arrogant banshee and merely focused on his opponent. The next words that came out of his smiling face was like a thunderstorm from a white cloud.

"I'll just have to break as many bones as possible until you stop moving then." Hong may be a deviant, but Vincent is just as much as a deviant.

Vincent won't kill because that's just one potential opponent vanishing from the world. Something like that would be a tragedy.

However, his words to everyone else were chilling at best and filled with murderous intent at worse even if he didn't carry any intent to kill. Hong snarled and charged like a rabid beast, yet still possessing the same skill as before.

His speed rose yet again and a flurry of fists attempted to smash onto Vincent's body.

'No power increase. That means he won't be able to kill me.' All the attacks were now beginning to be parried.

Since Hong doesn't have a special move with some surprising power, like Murobuchi's flying knee, then Vincent can end this fight. He needs to prove to his boss that he doesn't need to worry about loss as long as he's fighting for him.

Vincent's pride is to never fall in a fight. The day he do, is the day he can die with relief, but for now, he has to keep moving forward egoistically.

A knife hand chop dropped down on Hong's wrist. It snapped until it was serendipitously put back into place through Hong whipping it through the air until a nasty crack was heard. The whites of his eyes were filled with red lines.

The exchange of fists were just kept to fists. Legs were slower to attack with and Hong needed every bit of speed to break through Vincent's defense.

'He's not giving way!!' The Chinese fighter roared with vigor, the sound of muscles tearing entering his ears. He ignored it and used greater force, increasing the potential damage of his blows by adding corkscrews. The spin increased the torque, which increased the power.

Vincent caught both fists and leapt with a knee. It landed squarely on Vincent's chin cracking it and sending his body upwards. The Survivor landed on the ground with strength and switched his grip from the fists to the wrist. Vincent tugged and pulled until they were pulled straight from the socket.

The audible dislocation only increased the fever of the crowd. Only a few of them were truly unnerved by the increasing damage inflicted to Hong.

Hong was forced to roll away.

Hong summoned up his willpower and the training beaten into him to land on his feet while pulling himself free only to be greeted by a low kick once again tripping and grounding him.

He couldn't prevent himself from falling onto the ground, which Vincent took advantage of to stomp on his knee. Hong didn't feel the pain, but he knew that his mobility was severely hampered.

"You're done now." Vincent stated it like a fact. Hong's eyes widened from the claim and then shot up on his ruined lower body, a feat that surprised everyone there except for his boss. She knew the man would do everything he can to achieve victory after his loss against the Fang.

Ever since that, he was burning for revenge against that man, so he can accept nothing else other than victory. If all else fails, Hong will last in a battle of endurance until his opponent falls.

'Get him Hong!'

Togo did not doubt or hesitate. She looked on her injured fighter and expected nothing less than victory from him no matter his condition. 

He too expected nothing less than victory from himself. That was what continued pushing him onward. He grinned, certain of his victory despite his condition.

Vincent read the man's savage grin and understood what he was going for. In response, his smile grew stranger, like he was remembering something. He then settled into a different stance instead of that of a common boxer's.

Both of his hands were open and his knees were slightly more bent. The right hand was placed in front of the left with the left palm facing upward.

"This really is electrifying..." he murmured.