Lake Michigan, one of North America's Great Lakes, stretched vast and spectacular before them.
On the beach, the crowd kept growing. The Golden Gloves Tournament preliminaries had entered the second round, and the competition level had risen sharply. Fans flocked in droves. Since admission to the preliminaries was free, sports lovers weren't about to miss the chance.
Jason Luo's bout was scheduled for ring 577. Raul told him that in the super heavyweight division alone, more than ten thousand fighters had signed up!
With only about a third advancing, the competition was brutally fierce.
Mr. Brown had also come, saying he wanted to observe Jason's power output to adjust his future training. Pedro, though reluctant, couldn't do much about it.
Tony Huo had shown up even earlier. "Jason, I'm here! Ha! This place is perfect for a fight—so many beauties, tons of them in bikinis. When they start dancing… man, it's blinding!"
Jason shot him a glare. "I told you, you're no good. Stay away from Grace, or I'll tell her all your dirty little secrets."
"Come on! I'm just looking. What, they can wear it but I can't look? Don't act like some saint. I don't believe you haven't looked!"
"Me? I… I just appreciate it, not like you..." Jason's voice trailed off. American women were strange—their curves always seemed to pile up in the most crucial places. Those figures were impossible to ignore...
"See? You admitted it! Anyway, don't finish the fight too fast today. Have a little mercy—people online are about to start cursing..."
Jason didn't bother answering. If today's fight turned out as easy as the first one, it would be a miracle!
As they spoke, it was already time to prepare. Raul strapped on his protective gear while Pedro and Brown offered encouragement.
"Jason, stay steady. Believe in yourself."
Brown rubbed his muscles a few times. "Kid, fight hard. Look for your chance to unleash your Stamina. First, bring out your Presence."
Their words seemed contradictory, but Jason understood the point. "Relax. If I can control the rhythm, I'll keep it steady. If not, then I'll fight with everything I've got."
Both veterans nodded. "Good. Stick with that for now. We'll adjust after the first round."
Across the ring, Jason immediately recognized his opponent: Silvaliev, the archetypal Russian bruiser. Pale skin, a massive head, a short thick neck, and a barrel chest paired with a vicious glare—all radiating a menacing aura.
When he took off his shirt, his bulging muscles came fully into view. Most striking were his oversized sternocleidomastoid muscles at the base of his neck—a group Jason had also begun training. They were key to supporting the head, improving Durability against punches and aiding in evasive Reaction.
Turns out a big head and thick neck weren't just for rich guys and butchers—this was going to be a tough fight!
Jason shed his outer layer as well. His muscles, though equally defined, carried a completely different style than Silvaliev's.
The Russian looked like a ruthless butcher, raw power radiating from him. By contrast, Jason's physique had balance and beauty: squared pecs and chiseled abs set against a proportioned frame, evoking a Spartan warrior and stirring the crowd's imagination...
Nearby women gave him long, suggestive looks. Before long, more and more gathered around this ring, pointing at Jason and laughing amongst themselves...
What a bunch of shameless flirts!
Jason blushed slightly, but just then, a knockout in the previous bout pulled the crowd's attention away.
The fallen fighter couldn't continue. Now it was Jason's turn!
"Go, Jason Luo!"
"Jason, relax—you've got this!"
...
With the crowd's encouragement, Jason stepped into the ring. The moment he entered, the women around the ropes burst with excitement—clapping, cheering, even whistling at him.
Silvaliev, walking in beside him, noticed and grew sour. He glanced at Jason's abs, gave a mocking snort, then suddenly struck a bodybuilder's pose. His bulging arms and thick muscles flexed as if to prove to the crowd that he was the stronger man.
The referee frowned. This was a boxing match, not a muscle show. After pulling the two apart for inspection, he signaled for the fight to begin.
The fighters closed in. Silvaliev slapped his own face twice with his fist. It was both an invitation for Jason to strike first and a humiliation, showing the crowd that he didn't fear Jason's punches.
Jason ignored him. He was more experienced now, sticking to the pre-match plan—steady and patient.
Silvaliev didn't throw a punch yet, but his footwork kept pressing forward. Jason used jabs to control the distance, circling and retreating.
In this rhythm, Jason wouldn't risk a reckless counter. If Silvaliev anticipated it, he'd just waste Stamina. Counterpunches would only come when Silvaliev dodged or exposed a gap.
Silvaliev didn't even glance at the jabs, keeping his eyes locked on Jason. As Jason neared the ropes, he knew Silvaliev was about to strike!
Sure enough—his opponent's eyes sharpened, his arm pulled back slightly, his shoulder twitched. Jason reacted instantly, shifting his line and retreating fast.
But it was a feint—Silvaliev hadn't thrown a punch. Seeing Jason flinch back, he grinned...
Jason hadn't expected such tricks in an official match. Furious, he wanted to punish him!
"Jason!"
Coach Pedro shouted. Jason glanced over. His coach shook his head slightly. Jason understood—don't act rashly, don't fall for it.
Fine. He'd deal with him later.
As they closed again, Silvaliev suddenly attacked—launching a front swing.
Even if it was just a swing, Jason didn't take it lightly. He sidestepped twice to evade, then answered with a counter from his back hand—their first true exchange.
It was then that Jason realized what made Russian boxing different. Their Footwork wasn't quick, but their bodies weren't sluggish either. In open combat, whenever Jason unleashed a heavy punch, Silvaliev would slip just enough to blunt its force, unlike Mexican fighters who absorbed blows head-on.
Silvaliev didn't throw many combinations, but every punch landed like a hammer. Even his lead hand whistled through the air, making it tough for Jason to defend both hands at once.
After thirty seconds, both had tested each other. Then Silvaliev made his move—a quick step forward to close the gap, followed by a sharp left-right double straight to the liver!
He was targeting Jason's midsection!
This Russian was cunning. His shorter height made aiming for Jason's head an uphill swing, where Jason's reach gave him the advantage. But going for the midsection gave Silvaliev a perfect strike zone, forcing Jason into a much harder defense!
(To be continued...)
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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