Han Libo knew Jason Luo had grown up in the United States, so he gave him a careful explanation. "Here's the thing — Chinese martial arts today generally fall into three main categories. The first is competitive martial arts, developed to promote martial arts culture, earn a place in the Olympics and Asian Games, and bring honor to the nation. It's mainly a performance form. For example, Southern Fist routines often appear in the Asian Games demonstration events."
"But to be honest," he continued, "this kind of martial arts performance shows beauty and cultural flavor, but it's far removed from real combat. It's basically just a fitness sport."
Jason Luo shook his head. "That's not it."
"Then there's the second type — traditional martial arts. What you called 'Southern Fist, Northern Legs' is really a general term. Southern Fist includes southern styles like Hung Gar, Wing Chun, and Choy Li Fut, while Northern Legs refers to kicking styles like Tan-style kicks and other northern techniques. These traditional arts all have their own schools now, so learning them isn't difficult."
Jason Luo shook his head again. "Still not it. What I want to learn is the Southern Shaolin Temple's signature Southern Fist — the temple's secret art. Oh, and Liu Zhiqing claims to be a descendant of the Southern Fist King, Liu Yamei. He should be famous!"
"Southern Fist King?" Han Libo frowned. "That sounds unlikely. Ever since the country's founding — especially during that decade of upheaval — the martial arts world has been dormant. No major gatherings have been held since. How could such a title survive? Unless… it refers to someone from a much earlier time. If that's the case, then it must be genuine ancient martial arts."
"Looks like I'll need to look into this before I can tell you more."
Jason Luo nodded eagerly. "Sorry to trouble you. Please let me know right away if you find anything."
"Of course. Goodbye."
...
After Han Libo left, Rod turned to Jason with renewed energy. "Jason, this is a great opportunity. The market is massive — otherwise, all those high-profile events wouldn't have shifted from Las Vegas to Macau over the years. You have a real advantage here. We need to move quickly to build your influence."
Jason Luo brightened. "Mr. Luo, it's June now. Once my sister's summer break starts in July, I'm thinking of taking a short leave from the company. My family's planning a trip overseas for a bit of a break and to visit our relatives."
Rod laughed heartily. "That's good. Don't worry, Jason. You've been performing so well and training so hard — I'll suggest to the company that they arrange your trip and cover all the costs. You've earned a break. Boxers are people too."
Jason Luo's face lit up, and he thanked him over and over.
...
With the weigh-in complete, only six days remained until the fight. Durant might not be well-known, but Jason Luo couldn't afford to slip up — not when all eyes were on him.
At the gym, Brown spoke seriously. "This Durant's nicknamed the 'Quick Blade,' for his rear-hand punches. His heavy shots aren't the issue — it's his speed. His punches come so fast they're nearly impossible to defend against. Don't underestimate him; accumulated damage is dangerous and can easily aggravate old injuries."
Jason Luo thought for a moment. "Coach, I can't think of a good way to counter his fast punches."
Brown nodded. "Exactly. In boxing, speed and power are absolute attributes. If you're behind in either, the fight becomes tough. For this one, you need to keep the initiative — stay aggressive and force him to defend. That's the only way to limit his speed advantage."
"Oh, so I have to seize the first strike. Got it — avoid his edge and hit his flank."
Brown gave a dry chuckle. "Ahem, kid, save the fancy sayings. What I mean is simple — if he wants to beat you with speed, you beat him with power. He might try to strike first; when he does, hold your ground. If you don't, you'll be stuck reacting."
Jason Luo grinned. "Okay, Coach — just wait and see how fierce I can be!" He pulled a mock ferocious face, baring his teeth playfully, which made Coach Brown burst into laughter.
Sometimes, Jason Luo felt truly lucky. Both Pedro and Brown were excellent coaches. Their boxing philosophies differed, but their dedication went far beyond duty — and Jason never forgot that.
...
Outside the calm of the gym, the media frenzy surrounding the upcoming fight kept building, as if an invisible hand were stoking the flames.
Durant's press conference comments made headlines:
"The 'Quick Blade' to slice through the rookie! Veteran vows to finish it in three rounds…"
"Chinese boxer tries to dominate the ring with strange footwork — a brutal defeat awaits!"
Meanwhile, Jason Luo's remarks about challenging for the championship had been twisted beyond recognition:
"The Chinese boxer, dismissing Western powerhouses, has already set his sights on the title belt. Who can stop this madman?"
Jason Luo ripped the newspaper to shreds. "Put that New York sports columnist on my blacklist. I never want to see him again!"
Rod frowned. "Jason, calm down. We chose this path, and we've got to stay the course. Don't pay attention to this nonsense. The media has its pens, but we have our own weapon — results. Fight back with victories. Win again and again until they have nothing left to say. Use the glory of a championship to silence them. That's your job."
Jason Luo exhaled slowly. "You're right. I lost my temper. Let's see how long they can keep running their mouths. From now on, I'll ignore the papers and focus on training."
"That's the spirit. Oh — and one more thing."
"What is it?"
"Carl Frazier beat 'Bloodthirsty' Lucaster two days ago. After that win, his WBO ranking jumped to No. 197."
"What?" Jason Luo drew a sharp breath. "That's fast! How did he pull that off?"
Rod sighed. "He's got strong family connections. De La Hoya himself is promoting him. But the real key is his improvement — his left hook to the body's gotten sharper, and now his right hand's a real killer. In his recent bouts, opponents haven't lasted a single round. The shortest one ended in just thirty-nine seconds."
So strong.
A chill ran down Jason Luo's spine. Only six months remained before his scheduled match with Carl, and it sounded like Carl was improving even faster than he was.
That was terrifying. Carl came from a boxing dynasty — one of the best. His grandfather had even been inducted into the World Boxing Hall of Fame. And with Carl's fierce willpower, he'd surely be pushing himself to the limit, preparing for revenge in their fight.
Jason couldn't afford to relax. It was time to push harder.
Carl, just wait. I won't lose to you.