Carl Frazier was strong—very strong.
Raul had tracked down several of his fight videos. Carl's skills were well-rounded, his movements lightning-fast, and his fighting style relentlessly aggressive.
What stood out most was that Carl was a southpaw. His left hooks were sharp, fluid, and carried tremendous power. In the footage, most opponents fell victim to this—several had been knocked out cold by a single left hook.
After watching, the three of them sat in silence, a heavy pressure hanging over them. Everyone knew—this fight looked grim.
Brown finally spoke after a long pause. "Physically, you might be able to match him. But in technique and experience, the gap is clear. And since he's a southpaw, you'll struggle to adapt to his style."
Jason Luo knew it too. Carl was clearly a level above him. If he could have faced him two matches later, after building more experience, maybe he'd have had a shot. But now…
"I'll try to keep a close watch on his left hand and hope for an opening."
Brown shook his head. "It won't be that simple. From the footage, his right punch is no joke either. Damn it! Southpaws are always tough—otherwise even Muhammad Ali wouldn't have lost to one."
After thinking hard but finding no clear strategy, Brown finally stood up. "Let's wrap it up for today. Raul, tomorrow you need to find a southpaw sparring partner for Jason. He has to start adjusting right away."
Raul nodded quickly. "Yes, yes, that's a good idea. I'll start looking now. But even if I find someone, their skill might not…"
"It doesn't matter," Brown cut him off. "The key is to get used to the rhythm and angles of a southpaw's punches. We can work on the rest step by step."
"Alright. Leave it to me." Raul hurried out.
Brown turned back to Jason. "Go home. Don't pressure yourself too much. Get your head in the right place—we'll find a way."
…
Walking out of the gym, Jason Luo was lost in thought, his mood heavy.
He had fought so hard to make it this far—was it all about to end? Brown had clearly been acting relaxed earlier. Damn. If only he'd had two more fights to grow before facing Carl…
Jason pulled up his attribute panel:
Strength: 14
Stamina: 14
Boxing Technique: 12
Footwork: 13
Reaction: 13
Punch Speed: 10
Coordination: 10
Explosiveness: 11
Recovery: 9
Dodge & Anticipation: 10
Toughness: 18
Front-hand Punch Power: 11
Cross Power: 16
Free Attribute Points: 2
In his fight against Wuriqiu, he'd gained 3 points in Strength, 2 in Toughness, and 1 each in Recovery and Explosiveness—for a total of 7 Attribute points.
Seven points in one fight! If he could stack two more matches like that, things would look so much better. But now it was too late.
Back home, Grace was on the night shift, but his father had already cooked dinner. Jason, however, had no appetite. Henry Luo saw the worry written all over his son's face and asked what was wrong. Jason didn't answer—he only shook his head.
Henry frowned. "What is it? You made the Top 16! You should be happy."
Jason knew he couldn't hide it anymore. "Dad… even though I'm in the Top 16, my next opponent is way too strong. I'm afraid I…"
Henry finally understood. He set down his bowl and spoke seriously. "Jason, listen. You've already made us proud by reaching the Top 16. I may not understand boxing, but out of ten thousand contestants, you've made it to the finals. That's incredible!"
"In every competition, someone has to lose. That much I understand. Don't put so much pressure on yourself. Just fight your best. Winning would be wonderful, but if you lose, it's no shame. We'll be back next year—and I believe my son will be champion then."
Jason raised his head, almost unable to believe it. "Dad, you really think so? You mean it?"
"Of course. What, you think I'd lie to you?"
The weight on Jason's chest eased, and his face relaxed. "Dad, I'll give it my all. I'll fight my hardest to win."
"Silly boy, eat first. Food is fuel—without it you won't have strength. Sitting there frowning and skipping dinner, you looked like you'd already lost before even stepping into the ring. That's no good. Go into the match with your head high. Even if you lose, nobody's going to execute you. What's there to fear?"
Those words worked better than any medicine. Jason's mood lifted, and he began wolfing down his food.
Henry Luo smiled with satisfaction as he watched his son eat with appetite again…
…
The next day, when Jason arrived at the gym, he was shocked to see Coach Pedro had returned early!
In just a few days, the coach had lost a noticeable amount of weight. A wig covered his head—likely from chemotherapy—and his complexion was pale. Still, his spirit was good, and his eyes shone with the same familiar fire.
"Coach, why did you come back early?"
"What, you don't want me back?"
"No, no! But your treatment—"
"Don't worry! I'm doing well. The spread's under control, though the complications are troublesome. But forget about me. Carl Frazier will be a tough opponent. You need to be mentally ready."
Jason had already come to terms with it the night before. "Coach, I talked with my father last night. He supports me, and I've made up my mind. Like I said before—barefooted men aren't afraid of those with shoes. He has his strengths, but I have mine. If it comes to it, I'll give him everything I've got."
Pedro was a little surprised. "Hmm, not bad. Keep that spirit! I rushed back because I was worried about your mindset. But looks like you're in much better shape than I thought."
Brown hadn't expected Jason to bounce back like this after just one night's rest. "That's good. With only four days left before the fight, there's not much more we can do. What matters is making the most of your current abilities."
"Exactly," Pedro agreed with a smile. "Jason, I came back to celebrate with you. Truth is, by reaching the finals, we've already achieved our strategic goal. At your age, with these results, I'm sure many professional promotion companies are already paying attention. So in this match, just focus on showing your strengths. Entering the professional circuit is practically guaranteed."
Jason suddenly felt clear-headed. Right—his goal from the start had been to go pro, not to win the championship. All that extra pressure had been his own doing.
Of course, he also knew—even if the coach hadn't spelled it out—that the better his results, the stronger his bargaining position with promoters, and the better his future contract. So, he'd still fight as hard as he could.
Raul, relieved at the lighter atmosphere, laughed and pulled out a large envelope. "Exactly! Honestly, I never dreamed you'd make the finals. Yesterday you all looked so serious I didn't dare bring this out. Here—it's your salary and bonus, Jason. Eighteen thousand in total! Don't think it's too little. Once you sign your contract, I'll have another surprise for you."
"What? Eighteen thousand? That's way too much…" Jason was stunned.
Brown took the envelope and shoved it into Jason's hands. "Take it. You've earned it. Plus, you should also get a tournament bonus for reaching the Top 16. So you're already making a nice profit, ha!"
Holding the thick stack of dollars, Jason felt like he was dreaming. Without even realizing it, poverty was already starting to drift away from him…
...
(40 Chapters Ahead)
p@treon com / GhostParser