The Wizard Path From The Simulator

Chapter 181: Chapter 133 “New World” and “Fighter’s Transcendent Path” (Subscription Requested)_2

Translator: 549690339

At that remark, George Shaw’s smile froze on his face.

An extra hint of coldness appeared in his eyes.

“Kid, I don’t know where you got this information, but if you’re targeting my mentor, I think you’ve got it wrong,” he said.

“At your age, you should be studying, not digging up stuff you shouldn’t know about on the Dark Web.”

George Shaw’s voice was cold and stern.

He presumed that Milton Cheney, being able to acquire such information, was due to the Dark Web.

In fact, that was indeed the case. Milton Cheney only knew about this because of the Dark Web.

“I want to meet your mentor.”

Milton Cheney stated.

Fighters may well be a transcendent path hidden in this world.

But up until now, Milton Cheney had not seen a real fighter with his own eyes.

However, from George Shaw’s reaction, he was certain that he was right; this group indeed exists.

And George Shaw’s mentor might be a real fighter.

“Why would I take you to meet my mentor?”

George Shaw sneered.

The next moment, as if he remembered something, his face broke into a faint smile as he spoke.

“Well, it’s not impossible. Oliver said you killed an underground fighter with one punch?”

“Fight me. Beat me, and I’ll take you to see my mentor.”

“You choose the time and place, so you can’t accuse me of bullying…”.

Before he finished speaking, his facial expression stuck. The young man in front of him had taken off his coat.

“How about now? “What did you say?”

“Now, I’ll fight you.”

George Shaw’s eyes twitched a little. Are kids these days this arrogant?

This youngster barely ten years younger than him was making George Shaw feel like he was being left behind by the times.

Havmg made tne statement ‘You cnoose tne time and place’, ne couldn’t backpedal now without hitting his own face.

So, he nodded reluctantly.

“Fine, Oliver, get two pairs of boxing gloves.”

George Shaw instructed.

Oliver, who was standing by the side, gave the pair a look, then walked out through the door of the Lotus Pavilion.

The private room was large enough to box in.

George Shaw took off his outer coat and adjusted the collar of his white shirt.

He then discreetly surveyed Milton Cheney’s physique, his gaze finally lingering on his hands.

Indeed, he had recognized it when they shook hands.

These were not a pair of hands that belong to a boxer; there was not a single callus on them.

As to why this young man was so confident, he had no idea. He suspected the young man in front of him might have some mental disorder.

A moment later, Oliver returned, handing a pair of boxing gloves to Milton Cheney and George Shaw.

Milton Cheney didn’t decline or make any grandstanding comments about not needing gloves. He simply took them and put them on.

He then fixed his gaze on George Shaw, who by then had also put on his gloves.

The two took their positions, with Oliver serving as an impromptu referee.

The rules of this boxing match were simple: apart from not killing or crippling, there were no other rules.

Oliver counted down from three and then began.

The next moment, as soon as he finished the countdown, he witnessed a scene that left him dumbstruck.

George Shaw was barely touching gloves in a tentative move when he was punched square in the nose by Milton Cheney. Blood splattered everywhere before he collapsed limply to the ground. The whole thing took less than a second.

Is this how boxing is done?

Oliver felt his worldview had just been shattered.

Oliver wasn’t the only one whose worldview took a hit. George Shaw, the person in question, experienced a tenfold greater impact on his worldview.

Just as he was about to make a move, a black shadow suddenly appeared in his field of vision.

The next moment, he felt an agonizing pain in his head.

Tears unconsciously squirted from his eyes.

He, who had fought countless boxing matches, knew instantly that his nasal bone was broken.

Then his brain went blank, and his ears started ringing unendingly!

He had to admit he had been a bit complacent, but even so, the outcome shouldn’t have been like this.

The cause for such an outcome could only be that the gap between him and Milton Cheney was too wide.

When he seemed to come to, he saw that Milton Cheney was casually lounging on the sofa of the private room, sipping on his drink. The trench coat was back on his body.

George Shaw slowly sat up from the sofa, shaking his head slightly before he instinctively touched his nose.

“Hiss-”

It was utterly painful.

His nose detected the distinct smell of disinfectant, and the area he touched felt like gauze.

It seemed someone had already taken care of his wound.

“How long was I unconscious?”

His voice was somewhat hoarse.

The ever-attentive Oliver hastily replied, “Brother Shaw, over two hours.

Brother Cheney didn’t let anyone wake you.”

George Shaw shook his head again, rubbing his forehead gently.

That one punch almost blew him into the Western Heaven.

“Milton Cheney, I’ll take you to meet my mentor in two days.”

George Shaw spoke, his hand on his forehead, without turning to look at Milton Cheney’s direction.

He had lost, and now he had no way of going back on what he had promised. It was all because he was simply no match.

Milton Cheney didn’t respond to that. Instead, he changed the topic: “Who punches faster, your mentor or me?”

At that question, George Shaw’s hand stopped rubbing his forehead momentarily.

He could tell Milton Cheney was merely asking out of curiosity, without any trace of mockery.

Contemplating for a brief moment, George Shaw responded:

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