Forced into offense, Koselan began attacking Jason Luo. At first, Jason welcomed it. By holding his ground, he could drain his opponent's Stamina and look for an opening to counter.
But soon, he realized Koselan's assault wasn't the wild barrage he had expected. The veteran kept his rear hand tightly guarded while using his front-hand punches to jab, probe, and squeeze through Jason's defense, trying to pry open the slightest gap...
This approach was clever—economical yet dangerous. Jason could already picture it: the moment Koselan's lead punch slipped through, his rear hand would follow in an instant!
He couldn't help but admire it. So this is what real experience looks like.
Jason had learned a valuable lesson. Against a veteran like this, playing it safe was pointless. If he kept defending, Koselan would go eight rounds and barely break a sweat.
Now, Jason truly understood Coach Brown's advice—tricks and fancy tactics meant nothing against seasoned pros. Their experience was a wall. The only answer was raw, direct combat.
After a few exchanges, Jason lost patience. Meeting Koselan's strikes head-on, he began a full-blown counterattack—still aiming at the opponent's abdomen.
Koselan quickly gauged the timing. The round was nearly over, the safest window to exchange blows. Even if he took a hard hit, the one-minute break would let him recover both focus and strength.
Every professional fighter has pride, and Koselan was no exception. Though older, he was still in his prime. He wasn't about to tolerate this youngster's arrogance. With a glare, he stepped in and traded heavy punches without retreating...
The veteran and the rookie clashed in the center of the ring, their attacks targeting completely different zones—Jason pounding the body, Koselan aiming for the head. The result was dozens of clean, powerful shots flying back and forth without interference, violent yet strangely rhythmic, almost mesmerizing to watch.
The strategic, technical match had suddenly turned into a raw, explosive brawl. The crowd erupted, divided in cheers—some for the veteran, some for the rising rookie—voices merging into a roar of excitement.
Koselan's timing had been perfect. Their furious exchange lasted less than twenty seconds before the bell rang to end the round.
Both men froze mid-swing, glaring at each other before retreating to their corners. Koselan clutched his aching ribs; Jason rubbed his bruised face.
That brief clash revealed Jason's current level. The rear heavy punch that had once dominated the amateur ring no longer carried the same deadly power here. Only his toughness remained a slight edge—at least he could still take the hits.
Brown studied Jason's swollen face and sighed. "Why go head-to-head again? Jason, fighting hard doesn't mean fighting recklessly. You can offset his rhythm instead of trading blows. Going toe-to-toe like that is risky for both fighters. Unless it's absolutely necessary, don't do it again."
Jason smiled bitterly. "I couldn't help it, Coach. Koselan's experience is overwhelming. Against his kind of offense, my defense was useless."
Brown understood instantly. "Alright, that's easy to fix. Switch to a moving fight. Next round, use Footwork—make him chase you. That'll still let you control the flow."
Jason's eyes lit up. It was so simple—if he couldn't force Koselan to move, he could bait him into doing it.
"Heh, Coach, you always come up with the good ideas. I've been thinking too rigidly."
"Then get your Stamina back fast. That old guy's tougher than he looks."
...
When the second round began, Jason opened with a sudden offensive burst. After drawing Koselan's counter, he stepped back sharply and began circling the ring. Koselan hesitated for a moment—then instinctively advanced. If he didn't, it would look like he was backing down.
But by chasing, he fell right into Jason's rhythm. Moving backward, Jason switched angles constantly, weaving left and right, trying to circle around to Koselan's flank. The two began orbiting each other in a slow, tactical dance.
Even Koselan now understood Jason's plan. But he didn't panic. Their earlier exchange had been evenly matched, which restored his confidence. Calmly, he tracked Jason's every move, ready to strike at any slip.
Jason kept circling, searching for a clean opening. But time was running out—he couldn't just dance around forever. The referee wouldn't let him stall.
Then he acted. A feint to the left—then a sharp twist to the right—his left hook swung toward Koselan's ribs.
But as he looked up, Koselan hadn't moved. He was smiling straight at him.
Damn! He read me!
Before Jason could react, a shadow filled his vision—Koselan's long-prepared rear straight punch slammed into his eye socket!
Stars exploded before his eyes as he staggered backward, vision spinning. Through his remaining sight, he saw Koselan rushing in, excitement gleaming in his eyes...
Jason realized he'd been careless. With his vision blurred, holding his ground was impossible. The veteran would surely press the advantage, exploiting his blind spot for a finishing assault. There was only one option left.
Absolute Evasion—activate!
...
Koselan, rejuvenated by his clean hit, stormed forward with renewed vigor, unleashing a furious barrage of punches meant to end it right there.
But none landed. Not one.
Jason had turned into something else entirely—his upper body weaving, shoulders rolling, head tilting unpredictably. He moved like a pendulum in the wind, an uncatchable blur.
Koselan's eyes widened. What the hell?
He refused to believe it. This was his moment to avenge that earlier shot—he wasn't letting it slip away.
Drawing a deep breath, the veteran pushed his Punch Speed and Stamina to their limits, firing off sixty or seventy punches in a single sequence!
Yet Jason's movement only became stranger—his head swayed, body twisted, and his steps flowed in an almost dance-like rhythm, avoiding every blow with unnatural ease. It looked choreographed—like the two had practiced this routine for years.
Koselan's face turned red with rage.
This is humiliating!
A professional fighter unleashing nearly a hundred close-range punches—after scoring a heavy hit—and not landing a single one? The thought of it spreading would be a lifelong embarrassment.
I'll drop this kid no matter what!
Driven by fury, Koselan's attacks grew wild, bordering on madness.
The audience stood frozen in disbelief. No one had seen anything like it in years. The last time such movement was witnessed was when Ali himself had showcased his legendary evasions—and even then, it had been fleeting.
But what they were seeing now defied reason.
Jason Luo, partially blinded by a heavy blow, was effortlessly dodging dozens of punches—completely unscathed.
On the ring, Koselan kept swinging, but his Stamina was draining fast. As Jason's vision cleared, he began slipping in light blocks, waiting. By the time Koselan had thrown over a hundred punches, the veteran's arms slowed, his energy finally spent.
Jason, too, realized he might've gone too far.
He had no idea what a spectacle he'd just created—or what it meant for the boxing world.
Brown and Raul stood speechless, jaws slack.
The audience rose as one, silent, eyes glued to the ring.
At the commentary table, the announcer clutched his hair, repeating over and over, "Oh my god… oh my god…"
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
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