As the punch ripped through the air, Martin didn't flinch. His hips shifted. His knees bent by exactly a quarter of an inch. With terrifying, economic precision, Martin slipped his head off the centerline. The massive fist grazed nothing but air, whistling past Martin's ear.
The momentum of the missed haymaker sent Tyler stumbling wildly forward, completely off balance. Before Tyler could recover, Martin's footwork seamlessly pivoted him to Tyler's blindside. He didn't throw a punch. He didn't need to. He simply tapped the back of Tyler's knees with his own, sending the 220-pound golden boy crashing face-first into the puddle of dirty mop water.
The gym erupted into absolute, stunned pandemonium. Amanda dropped her phone. Eddie Thompson just smiled, nodding his head.
Martin stepped over the fallen bully, adjusted his collar, and looked down at the dripping, humiliated fighter.
"You promised to bow," Martin whispered, his voice echoing in the dead silence. "I expect you to keep your word."