boyutpedia Page 147
Page 147
The last few pages are dedicated to recording Smith's habitual movements, signs of fatigue, recovery patterns after being hit, and even psychological analysis.
“You mentioned ‘hidden patterns’.”
Viktor pointed to a section of encrypted text on the last page. "What does this mean?"
Frankie shook his head: "I'm not sure, because I don't think James is stronger than you, so I think you can choose some more aggressive approach."
The training was immediately adjusted based on Frankie's notes.
The notes point out that although Smith is known for his stamina, he actually has a brief fatigue window after the seventh round—during which his defense will be delayed by 0.5 seconds.
It is almost imperceptible, but it does exist.
"Like a window that appears only briefly."
Ethan exclaimed in surprise, "How did Frankie find out?"
Viktor smiled and said, "That's the old coach for you. He just has that kind of talent."
As the competition drew closer, Viktor's training intensity reached its peak.
He now has a complete set of tactics against Smith: focus on movement and defense in the first two rounds to wear down the opponent's stamina; start applying pressure in the third round; and go all out in the fourth round.
Despite having this valuable notebook, Max's disappearance still cast a shadow over training.
On Friday afternoon, with only ten days left until the competition, Victor conducted his final practice match.
This time, the sparring partner completely imitated Smith's style, and even specifically emphasized body striking.
In the third round, the sparring partner delivered a powerful punch that bypassed Viktor's defense and landed squarely on his ribs.
A sharp pain instantly spread throughout his body. Victor staggered, but threw a punch back, knocking his opponent to the ground.
Old Jack shouted and immediately rushed into the ropes.
Viktor waved his hand to indicate that he was alright, but the pain was real and sharp.
A sentence from Frankie's notes flashed through his mind: "Smith is good at smelling blood, and once he finds that his opponent is injured, he will concentrate his attack on that part."
"That's it."
Old Jack looked at the fallen sparring partner and said, "Let's not continue today."
Victor stood up: "No, continue. I need to get used to dealing with this kind of situation."
I'm talking about him, not you.
Old Jack stared at him for a moment: "You've been very impatient lately, and your punches are getting heavier and heavier. It's hard to find a sparring partner. Ray has been beaten so badly that he doesn't want to spar anymore. I think the only one who can help you with sparring is that 420-pound cream bean from Lowell."
Victor thought for a moment: "That's a good idea."
After continuing training, Victor focused more on applying Frankie's instructions.
As the pain radiated from his ribs, he forced himself to keep moving, using angles and distance to protect the injured area while looking for an opportunity to retaliate.
At that moment, he suddenly understood what Frankie meant by "pattern".
It's not just about boxing techniques, but also about how to cope with pain, fear, and adversity.
Everyone has their own style, but top boxers are able to break the old style and establish a new, stronger one.
After training, Viktor's ribs were covered in bruises.
While applying ice, Michael couldn't help but complain, "Why don't you just cut off the pain nerves here? I guarantee you could exert several times more force!"
That evening, Viktor stayed alone in the training hall and practiced in front of the mirror.
He studied his subconscious reactions when he was hit, looking for ways to improve them.
Frankie's notebook lay open beside him, with an underlined sentence: "The greatest boxer is not the one without weaknesses, but the one who knows how to turn weaknesses into strengths."
It was late at night, and Victor lay on the floor, staring at the light on the ceiling.
The competition on August 10th will not only be a test of skill, but also a test of will.
Smith is known for breaking the will of his opponents, while Victor must prove that his own will is unbreakable.
My phone suddenly rang; it was a public phone.
Victor answered immediately: "Max?"
There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, then Max's voice came through: "Don't come looking for me anymore."
"What happened? I can help."
"It's nothing, Viktor. It's nice to meet you."
"What do you mean?"
"I thought I could have a bright future like you, but I'm not you, haha. I used to say you were cold-blooded and cruel, but now, maybe only someone like you can break free from everything and climb to the top."
"I can help you."
"No need. You're already in a tough spot yourself. The only reason you've chosen boxing is because you don't trust your teammates, right?"
“Max, you see it very clearly.”
“I can only see things clearly because I’m not by your side. You went to Atlantic City and only chose to rely on the Chinese community during that time because you saw a great opportunity that required strength. But now that you’ve relied on their strength, you’re already feeling the pressure, so you chose to ally with the Channing family… Your terrible abilities can only lead you to such crude methods.”
"Any suggestions?"
"No, don't let them control you, boxing is your path."
"I can help you."
"I know, but I don't need to."
Chapter 124 Bone Crusher
After hanging up the phone, Viktor stood in the center of the empty training hall and suddenly felt an unprecedented sense of loneliness.
Max was very wise.
But it's too bleak—true courage is lighting a torch after witnessing darkness, and continuing to love after witnessing the cruelty of life.
Many people are like this, even if their reasons for loving life vary, or even if they have no other choice.
Max wasn't like that; she encountered something and was hit rock bottom.
Victor Lee walked to the edge of the boxing ring and stroked the ropes.
Whatever Max encountered behind the scenes, it was Max's responsibility, and he had only one choice:
Win the game, then climb step by step to the top, gain prestige, and only then can you continue to have the opportunity to excel in both areas.
In the ring, everything ultimately comes down to the most primal form—the ability to persevere to the end.
He put on his boxing gloves and started hitting the punching bag again.
······
On August 10th, the air in Las Vegas seemed to be scorching and restless, as if steamed by the MGM Grand Garden Arena, this giant money-guzzling beast.
The atmosphere was already tense during the weighing ceremony during the day.
James "Bone Crusher" Smith, a far cry from his previous almost hypocritical gentleness when interacting with Victor "Tiger" Lee, now displayed a muscular chest that nearly collided with Victor's. His eyes burned with undisguised ferocity and contempt, and he nearly spat in Victor's face as he roared in a low, threatening voice:
"Kid, tomorrow night, I'll take every single one of your bones out and smash them!"
Preemptive psychological warfare aims to shatter the opponent's composure before the battle even begins.
Victor simply met his gaze calmly with his icy eyes, slightly raising his chin. He showed no sign of backing down or losing his temper. He simply pushed Smith away violently, who was almost pressing down on him. The power of his silence only made Smith's arrogance seem even more agitated.
The invisible smoke of battle has already filled the air.
Now, as night falls, the core brilliance of this desert city that never sleeps is completely focused on the boxing ring.
The massive spotlight beams illuminated the square battlefield as bright as day, making it resemble a sacrificial altar—only one of the two could take it all!
The air was thick with the smell of expensive cigars, sweat, alcohol, and a kind of primal frenzy.
Cheers, whistles, and curses were amplified to an extreme, merging into a deafening sound wave that assaulted everyone's eardrums.
"Ladies and gentlemen! Tonight's main event! A twelve-round heavyweight bout! The red-corner fighter, from Chicago, 'The Tiger'—Victor Lee!!!"
Viktor, dressed in a red battle robe, walked steadily out of the tunnel. His eyes were sharp as knives as he quickly scanned the entire arena, finally locking onto the boxing ring.
His expression was stern, and all the noise seemed to be shut out from his focused world.
During warm-up, his movements were fluid and precise, with every muscle adjusted to its optimal state, ready to explode.
"—Blue corner player, 'Bone Crusher'—James Smith!!!"
Smith's entrance was accompanied by an even more ferocious roar. He pounded his chest like a beast that had been truly released from its cage, with only the desire for destruction in his eyes.
He stared intently at Viktor, making a throat-slitting gesture, which drove his supporters even more into a frenzy.
The rumor of the 400,000 bet injected excitement into the entire arena like a stimulant, elevating the duel beyond a simple sporting competition and adding a touch of cruel, money-driven brutality.
The referee briefly explained the rules, and the two men stared at each other in the center of the table, their foreheads almost touching. In the flash of their gazes, the killing intent almost materialized.
The ringing of the bell at the start of the first round was like a spell that released all restraints, turning the boxing ring into a gladiatorial arena and reducing the two boxers to their most primal warriors.
Before the echo of the bell had completely faded, Smith, like a runaway heavy tank, charged forward with extremely oppressive, heavy steps!
The canvas groaned under his footsteps, as if it could no longer bear the weight.
His tactics were completely unpretentious; it was simply the most primitive and brutal method of overwhelming force.
Using his superior weight and strength, he forcefully broke into the inner circle and used his powerful punches, which were truly capable of "crushing bones," to destroy his opponent's will and body in the shortest amount of time.
Before Victor could even fully regain his footing, a right hook punch carrying terrifying wind pressure tore through the air, whistling past his chin!
The force of the punch stung Viktor's cheek, and the front-row audience gasped in unison.
But Victor did not choose to roam.
The coach's clear pre-match instructions flashed through his mind: probe, but never show weakness! Mentally confront this beast.
Just as Smith retracted his fist, the old force dissipated and the new force had not yet arisen, Victor did not retreat to dissipate the force. Instead, he went against the current, took a step forward, and used his bent arms and sturdy stance to forcefully block Smith's follow-up left straight punch, which was trying to expand his advantage.
With a muffled thud, the impact sent shivers down Victor's spine.
In that split second of collision, Victor caught a glimpse of an opening—a swift, bayonet-like right straight punch pierced through the center, striking Smith squarely in the face!
The sound was crisp and clear, like the crack of a whip, quite different from the muffled thud of a heavy punch.