CHAPTER 270: CHAPTER-270.

The two opponents faced each other. Kaya stood relaxed, wearing her plain black shirt. She calmly rolled her sleeves up, loosening her collar by two buttons as if preparing for nothing more than a stroll.

Veer’s father let out a short cough, glaring at her. "What? You think this is a fashion show? Do you really believe you can survive this? No. Don’t expect mercy just because you’re a woman. I won’t go easy on you."

Kaya’s lips curled into a bright, almost innocent smile. "May God bless you."

He frowned, not understanding. But when the fight began—he would.

Veer’s father smirked at her. "Ha. You go first."

Kaya shook her head, her voice cool and steady. "Nah. If I go first, this fight will be over before it even starts."

Veer’s breath caught—then he let out a low whistle, shaking his head in disbelief. He couldn’t help the grin tugging at his lips. How damn cool does my wifey look right now...

Kaya flicked her eyes toward him for just a second, the faintest acknowledgment, before turning back to her opponent.

A growl rumbled from Veer’s father’s chest. "Fine."

Then, with sudden force, he lunged at Kaya, his fist raised high, aiming to crush her.

But Veer’s eyes widened as he watched—Kaya simply slid to the side, fluid and effortless, letting the punch slice through empty air.

Veer’s father snarled and swung again, his fist cutting through the air with raw power.

Kaya leaned back just enough for the blow to miss, the hem of her shirt fluttering from the rush of wind. Her eyes didn’t even blink.

A growl ripped from his throat as he stepped in closer, launching another strike. Kaya slid sideways, her boots whispering across the dirt, his knuckles barely grazing past her cheek.

Again.

This time, a low kick aimed to sweep her legs. Kaya bent at the waist and stepped over it, her body flowing like water. She straightened with a faint smile tugging at her lips, as if she wasn’t even fighting—just dancing.

The onlookers were holding their breath.

Veer’s father roared, throwing a flurry of punches, each one faster and harder than the last. Yet Kaya weaved between them, tilting her head, shifting her weight, letting his fists crash into nothing but air.

Sweat started to bead at his temples, his chest heaving, while Kaya stood calm, her expression almost amused.

"Are you done warming up?" she asked lightly, her voice slicing through his labored breathing.

Veer’s father roared again, his fist cutting forward with enough force to crack stone—

—but Kaya twisted, letting it skim past her shoulder, and before he could recover, she stepped in close.

Her elbow drove sharply into his ribs.

The impact echoed, and he staggered a step back, clutching his side. Gasps broke out among the men watching, their eyes wide.

But Kaya wasn’t finished.

He lunged again, furious, throwing another wild punch. Kaya ducked low, spun to the side, and with a swift flick of her leg, swept his balance out from under him. His body crashed hard against the ground, dirt and dust rising in a cloud around him.

Veer’s father pushed himself up, wheezing, his face twisted with disbelief and rage. His brown eyes blazed as he growled, "You—how dare—"

Kaya straightened, calmly rolling her sleeves higher as if she hadn’t even broken a sweat. Her voice was sharp and cool.

"Stop talking," she said. "Fight."

Veer’s father swung his arm, the force behind it enough to break bone if it landed. Kaya bent low, the strike slicing past her head, stirring the loose strands of her hair. She rose smoothly, her gaze fixed on him—calm, unblinking.

Another blow came, faster. She turned her body, letting his palm cut through empty air. The muscles in his jaw tightened, his rage sharpening with every miss.

He lunged again, a storm of strikes, but Kaya slid back a step, pivoted, ducked, the motions fluid and precise. Each dodge was narrow, deliberate—never rushed, never frantic. Her eyes remained cold, her expression unreadable, as though she were studying him, not surviving him.

The air cracked when his palm smashed against the wall beside her. Stone dust scattered, coating her shoulder. She didn’t flinch. Instead, she straightened slowly, tilting her head, her face blank yet heavy with something that unsettled him more than defiance—indifference.

Breath heaving, sweat on his brow, he swung again. Kaya shifted, the hem of her dress whispering against the floor as she slipped past him once more. His strikes grew wild, his body fueled by fury, but hers moved like water, always just beyond his reach.

Silence hung between them, broken only by his labored breaths and the dull thud of his missed blows. Kaya stood opposite him again, chest rising steadily, eyes dark and unreadable. For the first time, the man’s rage faltered—meeting her gaze felt like looking into a void that refused to acknowledge him.

"Okay, now that you are done, it’s my turn."

Kaya lunged forward, her fist cutting through the air with precision. Veer’s father smirked, catching her arm mid-swing, his grip iron-strong. His body tensed, ready to hurl her across the courtyard like she weighed nothing.

But before his triumph could settle, Kaya’s leg snapped up like a whip. Her booted foot slammed into his abdomen with brutal force. The sound was sharp—flesh and bone colliding.

She didn’t press forward immediately. Instead, she lowered her leg with calm precision, her expression cold, eyes locked on him as though measuring how long he could stand after that single strike.

Veer, from the side, froze—half in awe, half in disbelief—while his father clutched his stomach, glaring with fury, but with the faintest tremor of hesitation in his stance now.

Veer’s father staggered back, clutching his abdomen from Kaya’s strike. Then, suddenly, his eyes shifted—darkening, the pupils sharpening, glowing with the fierce intensity of his beast form. Predator eyes.

The transformation was subtle but unmistakable. Every muscle in his body tensed, and a low growl vibrated from deep within his chest.