This match was proving especially tough for Jason Luo. His development was fairly balanced, but that only made things more complicated. Against technical fighters, his inferior skills forced him to rely on close-range brawling. Against power-based opponents, his lack of overwhelming physical strength meant he had to depend on technique to counter.
Tactically sound as it was, the style wasn't exciting for the crowd. Fans preferred either brutal slugfests where both sides traded heavy punches, or pure technical duels decided by skill. Those were the fights that gripped an audience.
As a result, Jason Luo's performance so far drew little enthusiasm. Many spectators were even disappointed. Only seasoned boxing fans paid close attention to the subtle changes unfolding in the ring.
But with his current technical level, Jason Luo had no chance of outmaneuvering Hado in tactics. He was trapped, unable to break free—like a man sinking in quicksand, powerless as it swallowed him whole.
Time ticked on. The deadlock held...
Jason Luo was dripping with sweat, while Hado grew increasingly relaxed. His footwork moved like a dance, and his occasional probing jabs seemed meant only to avoid a penalty for inactivity. He was clearly dragging the fight out to exhaust Jason Luo.
After weighing his options, Jason Luo realized his only chance was to activate Unyielding Body. But its effect lasted just three minutes. Without counting the break, he could only rely on it for a single round.
The gap in Footwork and Reaction between him and Hado was enormous. Whether a 15% boost could close it was uncertain. If it wasn't enough...
Damn it, what rotten luck.
Why did he have to run into such an opponent in the first round? Jason Luo gritted his teeth. Fine—he'd gamble everything. Otherwise, defeat was certain.
But to trigger Unyielding Body, he had to be knocked down. And Hado wasn't throwing heavy punches, only tossing out light jabs for show.
Jason Luo couldn't just collapse from a jab—that would look ridiculous.
Still, he wasn't out of options. If Hado wouldn't attack, he'd make him. Jason Luo planned to charge in, force Hado to throw a heavy punch, then fake being floored. But his acting had to be flawless. If not, it could look like a fixed fight, and he'd face an investigation.
As he braced himself to rush in, a sudden thought struck him. Acting?
He remembered a fight from the beach preliminaries. A slower boxer, unable to land punches, had feigned weakness. His opponent thought he had an opening to finish him, only to get caught by a decisive counter.
This situation was almost identical. Why not try the same thing?
Yes. That was the way.
With that, Jason Luo lunged forward at the Cuban fighter. Hado, though seemingly relaxed, hadn't lowered his guard. Seeing Jason Luo try the same charge again, he sidestepped quickly and hammered him with a rear-hand heavy punch.
This time, Jason Luo deliberately left his head unguarded by swinging with both fists. Hado wouldn't waste such a chance—he landed two hard punches straight to Jason Luo's head.
They connected cleanly, but Hado already knew Jason Luo could take punishment. The blows weren't enough to finish him. His real aim was simply to halt Jason Luo's rush.
Then, to his surprise, Jason Luo staggered sideways, almost collapsing.
Hado froze.
What just happened? Did he hit a vital spot?
Seeing Jason Luo stumble back, Hado's excitement surged.
Why settle for points when he could finish this with a knockout?
Seizing the chance, Hado pressed forward, unleashing a storm of heavy punches that rained down on Jason Luo.
"The boxer charges again, but against the Cuban's footwork this tactic shouldn't... wait! After those two head shots from Hado, he looks shaky. What's happening here?"
"Hado's pouring on the pressure now—Jason Luo is in real trouble!"
Jason Luo, shielding his head as blows rained down, thought: Not yet... wait. The timing isn't right. He's still wary. This trick only works once—I have to make it count.
To sell the act, he loosened his guard further. Hado hammered him with more heavy shots. Jason Luo's body swayed, his eyes glassy, as if he were about to collapse.
Hado was ecstatic.
Victory was within reach!
He wound up a massive hook with everything he had, determined to end the fight in one punch.
But just then, Jason Luo's eyes flashed. Now!
With a roar, he let loose the uppercut he'd been saving, driving it straight into Hado's chin. "Take this!"
Boom!
The blow landed—and wrecked Hado.
His head snapped back, his feet lifted off the ground. His mouthguard flew in a wide arc toward the stands.
By the time he hit the canvas, he was already unconscious. His body slumped against Jason Luo before collapsing in a heap.
Jason Luo froze in his uppercut stance. The instant it connected, he knew Hado was finished. A strike to that spot sent shockwaves through the skull, triggering the brain's self-defense mechanism—like a circuit breaker—shutting everything down.
The commentator, a moment behind the action, shouted, "Jason can't take much more! He's eating heavy shots... it's over, Hado lands the final punch... the fight's decided—wait, what? Hado's the one down? Did I see that right?"
It had happened in a flash. Both threw punches almost together, but Jason Luo's uppercut was shorter and sharper, landing first. Hado's hook still connected, but by then it had lost all its power.
Thanks to instant replay, the crowd finally saw what had happened in that split second.
Watching the replay, Wollers shouted in disbelief, "Unbelievable! If that was a fluke, then this kid is heaven's favorite. But if he planned it... kid, you're in the wrong business—Hollywood needs you more than boxing!"
The referee, after checking the replay, rushed to Hado. To his surprise, Hado's eyes were open.
He began the count. "One! Two!"
But though awake, Hado's eyes were vacant, saliva dripping from his mouth. The referee shook his head and waved it off—the fight was over.
Still young and full of adrenaline, Jason Luo leapt up the moment he realized he'd won, laughing as he threw himself into his coach's arms. "I won! I won!"
But anyone watching closely could tell—he hadn't taken real damage. He'd been acting the whole time.