Drake Gym in Colorado, USA—usually buzzing with activity.
“Jack! Draco! Homekin! What the hell—where is everyone?”
But today, the gym was eerily silent.
If the lights had been off, it might’ve looked like the place had shut down for good.
“Keep it down. The match is about to start.”
Perry Jayco turned toward the voice behind him, looking puzzled.
“Match? What match?”
“The Asian qualifiers for the Olympics.”
“The heavyweight division?”
“Yeah. Everyone flew out to Asia to watch it. We’re waiting here to watch the broadcast.”
“Wait—Jack and Draco both went?”
“Of course. The Young Boss is fighting.”
The truth was, they didn’t go just to watch.
“There’s always something to learn from the Young Boss’s fights. You have to see it in person and record everything.”
“Is it really that serious?”
Perry’s question drew a look of disbelief from the others—
like he’d just outed himself as a complete amateur.
“You’ll get it once you see it for yourself.”
Following their lead, Perry turned to the TV.
The screen showed Kim Donghu walking toward the ring at a slow, deliberate pace.
“Man, how does he look so much like a beast?”
“Look at that body. The presence—wow... No wonder he sold 1.2 million copies. My wife loved that magazine when I brought it home.”
“Kazakhstan, Uzbekistan, the Philippines... This is their first time seeing him, huh?”
The older fighters listed off boxing powerhouses from Asia,
shrugging like it was no big deal.
“This is his world debut, isn’t it?”
“You could call it that.”
“Lucky bastards. That feeling when you fight the Young Boss for the first time—you never forget it.”
“Hell yeah, I know exactly what you mean.”
They all nodded knowingly.
Every one of them had been through the same thing.
A Korean. From a small country. A heavyweight.
At first, they’d all laughed at the idea. freewёbnoνel.com
Korea wasn’t known for producing heavyweight boxers,
so to them, it had been a joke.
But then—
“The moment you lock eyes, you can tell something’s wrong.”
“It doesn’t take long. Once the bell rings, it hits you.”
“Oh, this guy’s here to kill me.”
Hitman.
That was the word they always came back to.
They turned back to the screen just as the camera focused on Donghu’s opponent—a Mongolian fighter who looked relaxed, even cocky.
'No matter how much muscle you pack on, you’re still just a Solongos.' (Slang for a Korean in Mongolian)
The Mongolian loosened his guard,
thinking his sheer size advantage meant one clean punch would end it.
'How should I handle this little guy?'
The bell rang.
Ding!
And in that instant—
“?!”
The Mongolian lost sight of him.
A split-second lapse. Just a few seconds.
In that time,
Kim Donghu had already slipped inside his guard.
Too late to react.
The Mongolian started to lower his guard and brace himself—
BANG!
Donghu’s punch landed faster than his thoughts.
CRACK!
One hit.
The sound of ribs fracturing.
“Khuek...!”
Pain shot through his body, forcing his arms down.
His legs wobbled.
But his training wasn’t completely wasted—
his legs held him up just enough to keep fighting.
‘I can still do this!’
Clinging to hope—
BANG!
Donghu’s rear-hand uppercut smashed into his chin.
The movement was sharp and clean,
wasting no energy.
Two strikes.
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