The leader's hand reached for Rey with confidence born from years of successfully intimidating weaker street children.
Rey's response was immediate and calculated.
He twisted his body—movement economical and precise despite the physical weakness—allowing the grasping hand to pass centimeters from his chest while simultaneously striking upward with his palm.
The blow connected with the older teenager's wrist, not hard enough to break bone but sufficient to hyperextend the joint painfully.
The leader jerked back with startled curse, shock replacing his confident expression.
"Little bastard—"
Rey didn't give him time to recover. His consciousness retained combat knowledge refined through years of survival in H'Trae and tactical training in True Realm, even if this body lacked muscle memory or cultivation foundation.
He launched himself forward with speed that his malnourished frame shouldn't possess, driving his shoulder into the older teenager's midsection.
