Master of Lust

Chapter - 243

The five men closed in around Rick, thickening the air with an undercurrent of impending violence. They moved like predatory wild, hungry wolves—eyes locked on their prey, muscles coiled and ready to strike. The circle they formed was tight, cutting off any avenue of escape, their combined presence a wall of brute force and savage intent.

Zack's confidence surged as he observed the scene, a twisted grin spreading across his face. Finally, he thought, Rick was where he wanted him—cornered, outnumbered, and seemingly out of options. The tables had turned, and the taste of victory was sweet on Zack's tongue. "It's over for you now, smartass. Let's see how long you keep laughing!", a strange confidence and satisfaction ran through Zach's voice.

But despite the five men surrounding him, Rick showed no sign of concern. His posture remained relaxed; his smirk unwavering. He looked around at the snarling faces of the henchmen, then back at Zack. "You think you've got me, huh?" he said, his tone laced with mocking amusement.

Just as the henchmen prepared to pounce, Rick showcased quick reaction. He shot up from the sofa, delivering a solid uppercut to the nearest thin henchman. Rick's uppercut sent the first thin henchman staggering back, and as he did, the familiar chime of the system filled Rick's mind.

[Ding!]

[System notification: Weaknesses detected in enemies.]

The system's analysis flashed before Rick's eyes.

The thin henchman, still reeling from the punch, was highlighted first: [Weakness: Previous knee injury. Target to cause temporary destabilization.]

Rick wasted no time. With a swift, calculated kick to the thin man's knee, a sickening crack echoed in the room as the man crumpled to the ground, howling in pain.

The system then highlighted the muscular brute: [Weakness: Right shoulder—recently dislocated. Strikes to the joint will cause severe pain.]

Rick feinted a punch towards the brute's face, and as the man instinctively raised his arm to block, Rick shifted his stance and drove a sharp fist directly into the man's right shoulder. The brute let out a guttural cry, his arm going limp as pain shot through his body. He stumbled back, clutching his shoulder, leaving a gap in the circle.

Next was one of the fit, muscular men, his stance firm but his eyes betrayed a hidden vulnerability: [Weakness: Partial hearing loss in left ear. Exploit with feints and loud, disorienting sounds.]

With three men temporarily disabled, Rick spun around and delivered a sharp slap to the ear of the muscular man. The force caused a loud ringing in the man's ear, disorienting him and causing him to lose balance.

Before the next man could react, Rick shifted his weight and delivered a precise kick to the side of the first muscular man's knee. The man let out a guttural groan, his knee buckling under the impact, forcing him down to one knee.

The room was no longer closing in on Rick. He had created the space he needed, and the remaining men were reeling from the rapid assault. Zack, who had been watching with growing frustration, finally snapped. "What are you buffoons doing? Get him, now!"

Rick, now standing tall and composed, shot a glance at Zack and smirked. "Looks like your clowns haven't rehearsed for a good performance," Rick taunted, his voice dripping with mockery. "All show, no substance."

Frustration boiled over in Zack. In fury, and without thinking, he grabbed a paperweight and hurled it toward Rick with all his might.

Rick saw it coming out of the corner of his eye and casually sidestepped, letting the projectile sail past him. The paperweight struck one of Zack's henchmen, square in the shoulder. The man grunted in pain, stumbling backward from the unexpected hit.

Rick chuckled; his eyes gleaming with amusement. "If you wanted to beat up your own men, Zack, you should've done that at home. This isn't the time for self-sabotage."

Zack's face flushed with anger, realizing his outburst had only made things worse.

The henchmen, bruised and seething with anger, slowly pushed themselves back up, their faces set with grim determination. The earlier chaos had given way to a more focused, calculated fury. They exchanged glances, silently coordinating their next move. The humiliation they had endured fuelled their resolve, and they were eager for revenge.

Rick watched them rise with a wry smile, his eyes sparkling with amusement. "Looks like you haven't had enough," he called out, his tone dripping with mockery. "Well, if you want to get beaten by me that badly, who am I to disagree?"

He stood up, stretching languidly as he continued, "But I'm still giving you an offer—get out of here now with whatever self-respect you have left, and unharmed. Or stay, and let me make sure you remember this day as the worst of your lives."

The henchmen exchanged grim, determined looks, their anger now channelled into a focused drive to make Rick pay for their recent humiliation. They were not about to back down, and Rick's taunts only seemed to stoke the fire within them.

One of the henchmen, a broad-shouldered brute, seized a large, ornate vase. With a fierce glare, he hefted the vase, its weight straining his muscles as he prepared for a powerful swing.

He swung the vase with all his might, aiming for Rick's head. Rick's eyes tracked the motion, and he swiftly ducked, letting the vase pass overhead. The vase crashed into the wall behind him, shattering into a spray of ceramic fragments.

Without missing a beat, Rick sprang forward, delivering a sharp kick to the henchman's midsection. The impact sent the brute stumbling backward, his pained grunt mingling with the sound of the broken vase.

As the brute with the vase staggered back, another henchman lunged at Rick, gripping a metal floor lamp with both hands. At the same moment, another henchman, brandishing a wooden chair, took a heavy swing aimed at Rick.

Rick's sharp eyes tracked the approaching threats. He ducked just in time, narrowly avoiding the lamp as it whooshed overhead. The lamp's metal base crashed down onto the chair-wielding henchman's shoulder with a sickening thud, sending him stumbling back with a pained yelp.

The chair-wielder, momentarily disoriented, lost his grip and the chair flew out of his hands, its wooden frame splintering as it collided with the metal lamp. The chair's broken legs cracked into the lamp-wielder's shins, eliciting a howl of pain.

Both henchmen were now caught in their own trap. The lamp-wielder's face twisted in agony as he clutched his bleeding shin, while the chair-wielder rubbed his bruised shoulder, glancing angrily at his companion.

Rick couldn't suppress a smirk as he observed the chaos. "Careful, you two! At this rate, I'll need a front-row seat to this comedy show," he teased, his voice dripping with mockery.

Rick, couldn't help but let out a chuckle. "Nice teamwork, guys! If this goes on, I don't have to do anything. You will finish each other!", he taunted. Zach stood on the side-line scratching his head in agony.

The tattooed henchman, with a wicked glint in his eye, pulled out a gleaming knife. The blade caught the dim light of the room, its sharp edge promising danger.

With a menacing sneer, the tattooed henchman lunged at Rick, aiming to carve a deadly arc. The blade swished towards Rick. Rick, however, had already anticipated the move. As the knife descended, Rick executed a precise, swift kick aimed at the henchman's hand.

The impact was jarring. The henchman's grip faltered and the knife was sent hurtling through the air. It went flying in the air and then fell sharp into the foot of one of the other henchmen, a burly man who had been cautiously observing from the side.

The man's eyes widened in shock as he looked down at the blade protruding from his foot. He let out an ear-piercing cry that echoed through the wrecked apartment. "¡Madre mía! ¡Esto duele!" he wailed, his voice cracking with pain and disbelief. He hopped around on one foot, clutching his injured leg.

Rick's lips curled into a grin, watching the chaotic scene unfold. "Well, I didn't expect a knife-throwing lesson today," he quipped, shaking his head in mock admiration. "But I must say, your aim is atrocious! Or maybe it's just that your friends are an easy target."

One henchman quickly grabbed a picture frame and rushed towards Rick. His face was set in a hard line as he gripped the frame tightly, preparing to swing it with all his strength. The wooden frame, adorned with sharp, jagged edges, was poised to strike.

Rick's eyes tracked the movement. As the henchman swung the frame downwards, Rick nimbly sidestepped, the frame crashing into the floor with a resounding crash. Shards of wood splintered and flew in all directions.

Seizing the moment, Rick spun around. He grabbed the edge of the frame, using its own momentum to wrench it out of the henchman's hands. The henchman, thrown off balance, staggered backward, his grip slackening.

Rick closed the distance quickly, driving a hard elbow into the henchman's side. The impact forced the henchman to drop to one knee, his breath hissing out in a sharp burst. Without giving him a moment's respite, Rick delivered a powerful punch to his jaw, sending the henchman sprawling onto his back, and the man lay on the floor like a massive pile of bloated muscles.

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