Wollers, who had been commentating on amateur elite matches for years, still judged the situation in the ring with sharp accuracy.
Sure enough, once Morduk realized that Jason Luo's rear-hand shots weren't all that threatening, he began fighting recklessly. Charging forward and throwing wild blows, he made it nearly impossible for Jason to dictate the pace of the match.
Fortunately, Jason's toughness was nothing to scoff at. Guarding tightly against Morduk's power punches, he prevented his opponent from finding any real openings with just the lead hand.
As the exchanges dragged on, Jason began to appreciate the advantage of his nimble footwork. Without his improved Reaction and other Attributes, today's situation would have left him in serious trouble.
The first round was nearing its end in this deadlock. Out of the corner of his eye, Jason caught Coach Pedro's subtle nod—their prearranged signal. It meant the time to counter had come. If he kept getting chased around like this, the referee might see it as passive fighting, which could affect the result.
Clenching his teeth, Jason suddenly planted his feet and fired off a sharp combination. It caught Morduk off guard, landing two heavy shots flush.
But Morduk's resilience was frightening. The punches only made his head shake before he stormed right back into an exchange with Jason.
"Counterattack! Young Jason finally shows his fangs! I knew it—this kid doesn't look like a pure technician. What we saw earlier was just tactical. This counter came at the perfect time—sudden, calculated. Launching it right before the bell: if it works, it's a bonus; if it fails, no harm done, since there's no time for his opponent to answer back... Ah! The Mexican is caught off guard and eats two clean rear-hand shots! Could this be his chance?"
"Oh! But the Mexican's physical conditioning is incredible. Even heavy blows like those don't seem to rattle him. What a shame! Jason must stay sharp now. Morduk is firing back—both fighters are going full throttle!"
"Will this fight really end in the first round? Hmm, young Jason is keeping his head clear. In the exchanges, his eyes are locked on Morduk's rear power punch, slipping past several of those bombs. Smart—he's using these furious trades to sap Morduk's Stamina. But it's extremely dangerous, because right now, the Mexican clearly has fight-ending power."
The crowd held its breath. The sound of leather smacking flesh—thud, thud, thud!—echoed through the arena. Each punch sent sweat flying, proof of the immense force behind them. Yet neither man gave an inch, trading blow for blow without a step back.
In a far corner, Tony Huo was recording on his phone, breaking into a nervous sweat as he muttered under his breath, "Hang in there, bro! Come on—you gotta take that bastard down!"
Closer to ringside, Dr. Miao sat with his daughter, Susan. She hadn't wanted to come, but her father insisted she support Jason, saying he needed the encouragement. Watching now, though, she only felt it was pointless—Jason clearly looked weaker. What was there to cheer for? In the end, wasn't he just going to lose?
Back in the ring, the two fighters were still locked in their furious exchange. Wollers analyzed, "Right now, the Chinese boxer Jason has a slim lead on points, but his power isn't putting Morduk in real danger. There's ten seconds left in the round. If he can hold out, this war of attrition will have paid off..."
Before he could finish, the fight took a sudden turn. Seeing Jason fixated on his rear hand, Morduk pumped out a flurry of jabs to disrupt his vision, then slipped in a brutal uppercut to the body. The punch landed flush on Jason's abdomen with devastating force—far beyond what he could endure.
Jason staggered back several steps before steadying himself. A searing pain tore through his gut, nearly folding him in half. Morduk, sensing blood, pounced like a hungry wolf. In desperation, Jason threw aside all pride—he clamped his arms around Morduk's neck, forcing his head down, and pressed his body tight, smothering his opponent's space to punch.
How ironic—he never thought he'd end up using the same rough clinch tactics Jonathan had relied on. But with his stomach ablaze, there was no other way to survive Morduk's onslaught...
Jason had a slight height advantage, and once he locked on, Morduk couldn't shake him. After a few futile struggles, the Mexican had no choice but to signal the referee.
The ref stepped in to break them up. By then, only seconds remained in the round. Just as the ref signaled to resume, the bell rang—end of the first.
Morduk seethed with frustration, but there was nothing he could do.
Clutching his abdomen, Jason shuffled back to his corner and dropped onto the stool. Pedro rushed over, checking the swelling bruise across his stomach. The muscle was already purpling, though the bone seemed fine.
"See? I told you not to overtrain your abs. How is it—can you keep going?"
Jason gritted his teeth. "Don't worry, Coach. I'm fine. It already feels a lot better. Damn it, I didn't guard against that shot. That guy's crafty."
Pedro frowned deeply. "Jason, you've already done great. But it looks like he's stronger than we expected. If the pressure is too much, you can consider stopping. You're still young. If something happens, Raul and I could never explain it to your family..."
Jason's eyes snapped open wide. "No, Coach. I can still fight. I'm not giving up. He's strong, yes, but if I back down every time I face someone like that, then what's the point of boxing?"
"But going back out there is too dangerous. That Mexican kid is going to attack with everything next round. Surviving it will be nearly impossible."
"Then I'll just have to try, Coach. I don't want regrets. Even if I lose, I'll fight with everything I've got. That's the only way I can honor you—and myself..."
...
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