Cupid Rhymes With Stupid - 愚蠢的傻瓜 (BL)

Chapter 3: Appearance Of The Young Master

"Young master, Mr. Martyn is looking for you." The old butler stepped backward. He moved his hands onto his back, grazing the cold two-way mirror behind him.

Grunting, the young master remained focused. He continued to deliver quick and heavy punches, concentrating on the toughest part of the punching bag that hung from the titanium ceiling. The clank of chains was echoing inside the resilient glass walls when he scrunched his eyebrows and stood still. Displeased by his performance, he deeply exhaled and pressed the arrow-up button of the system controller attached to his ears.

This training room was sophisticatedly designed by his ally, Allurenzo Collins. It was geared to sate the young man's ache for perfection. Alternate squares of marble and mastic asphalt covered the floor. Red and green beacons interspersed between each other above the control panel. The electromechanical vault door separated the monitoring room, securing the array of computers.

"Gravitational pull set to 14.7 meters per second; one and a half heavier than the Earth's; three notches below the maximum," the system announced.

Tiles of black asphalt surfaced from the floor and replaced all of the white marble. The lights flickered for a few seconds; the sirens blared for a short duration. Three more punching bags dropped from the ceiling, as the previous bag slid to the side.

The new bags were as hard as human skulls.

The young master tilted his head from side to side, cracked his knuckles, and mimicked the southpaw stance—right hand and right foot forward.

In the blink of an eye, a swift punch bore through the first heavy bag.

Hit after hit, the butler's eyeglasses started to crack. The devastating shock waves, added to the heavy gravity, almost pulverized his eyeglasses instantly. He took them off and went into the safe area to avoid the impending doom he had always experienced before the white-floored, green-lighted area was built. He pulled out his backup glasses in one of the hidden pockets in his vest and tested the atmosphere before safely putting them on.

The ambiance thickened, and the air continued to bend. The sound of fists ramming the punching bag almost deafened the butler. Despite that, the butler succeeded to maintain his usually impassive expression, as the handsome young lad relentlessly tore the punching bag.

After few consecutive strikes, the young lad, Ythan, focused his dormant energy on his left knuckle and decisively smashed the bag. The blow pierced through the middle of the second bag, forming a jagged hole.

"Exercise finished. Better luck next time." The system's female voice laughed. The white marble reemerged, carpeting the entire floor.

Ythan's last punch only dented the third bag.

Not enough! Not enough! Everything is still not enough!

Ythan closed his eyes and clenched his jaw. After panting for a few seconds, he bowed down, extended his right arm, and straightened his left leg. His world turned into a blur as he spun around and swooshed the punching bag.

The butterfly kick cut the last bag into two.

The stuffing was swirling in the air when Ythan finally stared at the butler.

Mr. Harris hurried over and pulled out a towel from the suitcase he had carried. He placed it in the palms of his hands, careful not to crumple it, and handed it over to his young master, bowing down.

"Young master, that set of punching bags is the toughest I can find for the meantime. I'm afraid that the next batch will be that of lesser quality. We are currently utilizing our subordinates in Russia to find you better ones, though it may take time."