Chapter 856

Evelyn was speechless. Spending tens of thousands just to meditate in a gym?

Zachary finally snapped out of his daze and launched into an enthusiastic explanation.

"This guru is an enlightened monk from the Himalayas. His meditation skills are unmatched in this world."

"There’s no truth he can’t uncover! You’ll be his first student!"

Emily was thrilled. She’d finally found a workout that didn’t involve sweating!

Moments later, Zachary had someone escort Emily to the "meditation chamber."

"What would you like to try, Ms. Whitaker?"

Zachary assumed she’d pick something gentle—yoga, perhaps—something that wouldn’t strain her but still make her happy.

Evelyn hesitated. Since she was already here, and the instructors were world-class champions, she might as well give it a shot.

"Taekwondo."

Zachary paused, eyeing her. "Sure. You can change inside. I’ll spar with you later."

He gritted his teeth. The taekwondo instructor was an Olympic gold medalist.

If the coach accidentally injured Evelyn, Zachary wouldn’t be able to handle the fallout.

So, he had no choice but to spar with her himself. At worst, he’d let her win.

Evelyn gave him a skeptical look but said nothing, heading inside to change. The gym’s luxury service ensured everything was provided—no corners cut. After all, their clientele were high-profile elites who couldn’t be fooled with subpar gear.

Evelyn chose a sleek black training suit. With her toned figure and striking features, she drew immediate attention. Yet, her delicate appearance made her seem fragile—like a single punch could knock her out.

She warmed up with a quick jog. Zachary emerged in his gear, muscles flexing. Compared to her, he looked like he could wipe the floor with her.

The taekwondo coach raised a brow. "You’re going up against her?"

Zachary nodded, jaw tight. He couldn’t go too hard on her—if she got hurt, he’d have no excuse.

A porcelain doll like her needed to be handled with care.

The coach sighed. "At least warm up first."

Zachary shook his head. "No need. If I warm up, I might hit too hard. Just record the match for me." He handed his phone over.

The coach frowned but complied. Zachary needed proof—what if Evelyn tripped and blamed him?

As Evelyn finished warming up, the coach noted her precise, professional movements. Despite her slender frame, her technique was flawless. She clearly wasn’t a beginner.

Just as the coach opened his mouth to warn Zachary, Evelyn strapped on her gear and stepped onto the mat.

Zachary took a sip of water and strolled over casually. Evelyn glanced at him, then at the coach. "You sure about this?"

Zachary smirked. "Don’t worry. I know what I’m doing. I’m just as good as the coach."

Evelyn arched a brow. Well, he asked for it.

She didn’t hold back. Her first move was a lightning-fast roundhouse kick.

Zachary barely dodged, startled by the force behind it.

Evelyn’s strikes were sharp, efficient—no wasted motion.

Within minutes, Zachary was struggling to keep up.

Then—crack!

Evelyn twisted his arm, swept his legs, and pinned him down.

A clean, brutal victory.

She stood, dusting herself off. "Next time, send the coach."

Zachary groaned, clutching his dislocated arm.

Pathetic.

If she hadn’t gone easy on him, he’d have been down in seconds.

His pained whimpers echoed through the gym.

What a miserable sight.