The next day, Mr. Raul and Pedro drove Jason Luo and his two companions to Podiat.
Podiat, originally built in the 1990s as a government-funded multi-purpose sports complex, had since transformed into sacred ground for Los Angeles boxing fans. These days, amateur elite matches were staged here nearly every night.
Amateur boxing is divided into 11 weight classes, and only fighters ranked within the top 50 of their divisions qualify to apply for a match here. That standard made the level of competition exceptionally high, turning Podiat into a regular pilgrimage for fans.
But it wasn't only the fans—industry insiders also packed the stands. Talent scouts, managers, reporters, trainers, fighters... American boxing had already developed into a complete commercial ecosystem.
When they arrived, Jason Luo froze the moment he stepped out of the car.
This place was enormous.
Before him rose a vast, majestic arena. The parking lot overflowed with cars radiating wealth and status—limited editions from around the world that anywhere else would have been rare, but here appeared one after another.
Unlike a basketball crowd, the spectators arriving for the boxing event were dressed as though attending a gala. What startled Jason Luo even more was the unusually large number of women in attendance. That sight alone unsettled him—he was still haunted by Rebella...
Inside, the arena blazed with lights. Spotlights swept across the central ring, while below stretched a dense sea of spectators—easily seven or eight thousand people.
Holy crap. Losing in front of this many people would be beyond humiliating.
Jason Luo swallowed hard. Raul noticed him standing there, stunned, and chuckled.
"Don't bother looking around. In a crowd like this, you won't find your friends. Just focus on your fight. Come on—we need to get to the locker room and prepare. Time's short."
The locker room was worlds better than the tavern. Spacious, bright, with showers, rest areas, and even some warm-up equipment. But Jason Luo's heart was pounding too hard for him to calm down.
He had started boxing simply to find a way to survive, to earn a living. Yet in less than two months, he was standing on the brink of such a grand stage. It was overwhelming.
Pedro, sweating lightly after the long walk around the massive arena, sat down and studied him. Seeing his nervousness, he scowled.
"What's wrong? Getting cold feet before stepping into the ring?"
Jason Luo flushed. "No, Coach... it's just, with so many people watching, I'm not used to it. I'm really nervous..."
"Bullshit!" Pedro snapped. "You're a fighter. No matter the venue, your focus stays locked on your opponent. You think this audience came to see you? They're here for the main events. We just got lucky landing an undercard slot. You're nowhere near a real contender here, understand?
Your opponent, Morduk, is barely in the 2000s in the super middleweight amateur rankings. He's not even second-rate. So quit overthinking."
The words struck Jason Luo like a bucket of cold water, snapping him back to reality. Everything here might look within reach, but in truth, it was still far away.
Seeing him drop his head, Pedro softened his tone.
"Boxing is a sport of opportunity. If you're willing to put in the work, it can change your life. But that's also why so many talented fighters lose themselves chasing money. Jason, strip it back to the core—everything comes down to victory. Relentless victory.
Stay true to your drive and keep pushing past your limits, and you'll find bigger rings than this one waiting for you to conquer."
Jason Luo lifted his head, his eyes clear again.
"Thank you, Coach. You're right. I came here to fight. My only goal is to send that Mexican kid back home! I need to get stronger—much stronger. Money and fame? They're just byproducts of the journey."
Pedro's face broke into a broad smile. He stood, exchanged a look with Raul, and said, "Good. Very good! For you to say that shows you really understand—and that's not easy. Kid, if you keep this mindset and stick with it, I promise you'll make something of yourself in boxing. Ha! Just for those words, this trip was worth it."
Raul nodded vigorously. "Many fighters spend their whole careers without ever realizing this truth. That you've grasped it so early excites us. Those who fight only for money rarely endure long enough to achieve greatness. Too many end up fixing fights, padding records, chasing hype and gimmicks—only to fall into disgrace."
As they spoke, the faint sound of a microphone echoed from the arena.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to Podiat! Tonight, three major bouts are set to take place: lightweight Fennie versus Grulta , welterweight Gorison versus Hulyat, and the light heavyweight main event—Gadia versus Müller!"
"These three matches promise top-tier action, guaranteed to thrill every fan. Veteran boxing lovers have been waiting for this night. But before those, we've prepared a special appetizer. The undercard begins in five minutes!"
"This bout features Mexico's Morduk against our local Chinese fighter, Jason! Ha! Mexican fighters' fierce, aggressive style has always been beloved by fans, while Chinese fighters are a rarity in the boxing world—true gems. Their clash is one to watch. The action begins in just five minutes..."
The atmosphere was already electric, pressing down on them. Jason Luo rushed through his final preparations. Raul tied his gloves and reminded him,
"Almost forgot—at events like this, commentators narrate the fight. Some of them are sharp-tongued, like reporters, and to hype things up they'll mix in their personal biases. Ignore them! Focus on your fight and don't let them get in your head."
Pedro added, "That's right. A piece of meat on the ground doesn't just draw lions and tigers—it attracts flies and bugs too. Let them buzz. We focus on the fight. Once you're in there, control the pace.
Prioritize defending against his heavy punch, build a points advantage, and wear down his stamina."
Jason Luo nodded firmly. "Got it, Coach. And in the last thirty seconds of each round, I counterattack."
"Exactly. I'll be watching from ringside. When the time comes—or when I see the opening—I'll give you the signal."
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser