A Night of Fights

"Is he Max's uncle?"

"He looks pretty good."

Terry sat at the table where Max's friends were gathered, and a glass of wine was quickly served to him. Everyone had heard about Max's uncle, one of Cobra Kai's sponsors, who had once taught Max karate.

This man had combat experience and seemed to support Max significantly.

"Will he let him fight?"

Terry glanced at Miguel and said, "Well, one fight won't kill anyone. Besides, representing Cobra Kai will enhance our prestige nationally and, as I see it, internationally as well."

"Just watch. You don't need to worry," Ryan said, knowing Max's temperament perfectly.

...

During the intermission, the betting booth gave ten minutes for customers to place their bets while the fighters rested.

However, for Max's fight, ten minutes seemed overly generous. After he stepped into the fighting arena, the betting booth only received a thousand dollars in bets for his victory. Clearly, everyone thought Max couldn't win, and no one wanted to throw their money away.

But when Terry arrived, the few bets placed—though massive in amounts—were wagered on Max's victory.

Only a handful of people bet on Max, baffling many spectators.

"Are you sure he'll win?" a tall guy asked Zara, one of the few who had bet on Max.

Zara smirked slightly and said, "He'll win. Even though we haven't seen him in competitions lately, we know he's been trained in various martial arts. This match won't be any different from his usual results."

"Whatever, it's not my money."

In the combat arena, after the break, Leandro approached Max, and they stood face to face. They were of similar height.

Max was lean and muscular but not bulky, while Leandro was stocky, making him much heavier.

However, this difference wasn't considered significant for this type of combat, especially since the fighters had been trained in a discipline that prepared them for any opponent.

Standing together, they looked like an athletic guy and a bodybuilder.

"Heh, heh, heh. One-eyed boy, you're a dead man," Leandro sneered, adjusting the wraps on his knuckles as he taunted.

"Damn, with a face like that, don't smile so boldly. It just makes you look even uglier. After the beating I'll give you, it'll be hard to pick up a girl tonight," Max mocked as he began to move slightly.

"Did you just call me ugly?" Leandro, enraged, threw a punch at him.

Seeing this, the referee hurried to stop him.

"You son of a bitch, you're a dead man. I swear on my father's memory!" Leandro cursed and panted heavily.

Max shrugged and looked at him with disdain, making Leandro bite down on his mouthguard in fury, eager to attack and strike him immediately.

The referee began to announce the match rules.

No groin attacks, biting, eye-gouging, or headbutting were allowed.

The permitted striking areas included the front and sides of the head, above the waist, and the front and sides of the upper body, but hitting the arms didn't count for points.

"When the referee yells STOP!, you must halt and step back; otherwise, you lose."

The coach directed this primarily at Max, concerned that he might not be familiar with the venue's rules and could inadvertently use prohibited moves in the heat of the match.

Max nodded, understanding what was and wasn't allowed here. It wasn't unusual for him to get confused, given his mastery of so many martial arts.

"Fight clean!" After the announcement, the referee gestured downward with his right hand, and the fight began.

"Leandro, punch him in the face, and I'll buy you a drink!"

"Leandro, knock him out in one round, and I'll give you a big tip!"

"Come on, Max, no mercy!"

As soon as the fight started, the spectators began cheering wildly, shouting all sorts of nonsense.

Among the audience were more professional spectators, such as the Chinese visitors from Hong Kong on a promotional tour.

Right after the match began, it was evident that Max wasn't a rookie. His relaxed posture, naturally hanging arms, steady footwork, and agile movements made him look like a trained professional.

"Leandro, be careful! Don't underestimate him!"

One of the sponsors stood up and shouted loudly.

Unfortunately, it was already too late.

Abandoning his usual conservative style, Leandro opted to go on the offensive immediately after the match started. He took two steps toward the center of the fighting arena and charged directly at Max.

Seeing that Max didn't dodge in time, Leandro felt overjoyed and roared as he threw a punch at his opponent's face.

It was a fast and fierce punch, difficult to handle; if it connected, Max's nose would likely break.

As Leandro launched his punch, Zara's sensei, seated nearby with some companions, widened his eyes. He saw Max barely move his shoulders, tilting his head slightly to deftly dodge Leandro's fist as if he had fully anticipated the angle of the attack.

What happened next was even more shocking.

As Leandro's fist grazed Max's hair, Max's left fist eerily appeared next to Leandro's face—something Leandro hadn't prepared for at all.

"Leandro..."

Pow!

Before anyone could yell, "Watch out!" Max's punch slammed hard into Leandro's face, causing the flesh to ripple dramatically.

A pink mouthguard flew out of Leandro's mouth with saliva, glinting semi-transparently under the incandescent light.

Leandro's body twisted, staggering a few steps before collapsing onto the mat, raising a cloud of dust.

The place fell completely silent.

Thousands of spectators remained in shock, mouths agape, staring at the arena.

"Seven, six, five, four, three, two, one!"

As the referee counted down over the fallen Leandro, the crowd gradually snapped out of their daze.

Boom!

"Did that one-eyed guy just win?!"

"How is that possible? With that disadvantage, how could he knock out Leandro in a single blow?"

"Who is that guy?"

"His name is Max! Max Jones! He's a Cobra Kai student."

The previously serious faces of Max and Hawk lit up with excitement as Hawk repeatedly shouted Max's name with his hands raised.

"Max won? That's incredible," Ryan roared with excitement.

"Max, you're the best!"

Looking at the crowd beneath him and hearing their cheers, Max's heart raced, feeling alive once again with the audience, his opponent, and himself.

He loved the feeling—the thrill of taking down his opponent and basking in the ovation.

Max raised his fist vigorously.

"I declare the winner of the first match... Max Jones from Cobra Kai!" The referee raised Max's arm.

"For the second match, does anyone want to challenge Max?"

"I will! He just got lucky taking Leandro down."

"He won with a surprise attack; he's not that good. I could take him down too."

"He's not as strong as I am; he can't be that skilled. If I had forty thousand U.S. dollars, I'd definitely beat him. Anyone willing to sponsor my match?"

The crowd was noisy; many wanted to get in the ring and take a shot at him, but only five with sponsors behind them stepped forward immediately and formed a line.

The first to step into the arena was a muscular Latino man with an eagle tattooed on his shoulder.

The man, standing over 190 centimeters tall, broad-shouldered and as sturdy as a tree trunk, approached with an imposing presence.

"Hey, kid, beating Leandro by luck doesn't mean anything. Believe me when I say I'll finish you in one round." The man waved his fists provocatively, trying to intimidate Max.

"Don't believe me? The only tough thing about you is your mouth. You're even easier to knock out than Leandro."

Max looked at him with disdain.

"I'll knock you out."

Max curled his lips into a smirk.

The referee approached, announced the rules of the match, and the fight began.

"I'll pummel you!"

Without touching gloves, the tattooed man, named Mario, threw his fists the size of sandbags as soon as the match started, aiming fiercely at Max's forehead.

"Watch this!"

From below, Mario shouted at Leandro, who was still recovering.

Mario aggressively targeted Max's head, but Max deftly tilted his head, dodging his opponent's direct blow.

"Look down, idiot!" someone in the crowd shouted urgently.

Mario's eyes widened.

As he focused on Max dodging the deadly punch, he suddenly noticed Max's right foot unexpectedly reaching his face.

Bam!

Max's kick landed squarely on Mario's jaw.

Struck on the chin, Mario's head snapped back, spraying a mist of water as he stumbled three steps backward and collapsed onto the arena floor, his massive frame hitting with a stunning effect.

The crowd remained silent for two seconds before erupting in noise.

"KO, another KO!"

"How did he land that kick in just a few seconds?"

"Relentless!"

Miguel and Hawk were ecstatic, hugging and jumping while waving their betting tickets in the air.

"One hit?" Leandro was dumbfounded, his ice pack dropping to the ground unnoticed.

"Another one-hit knockout! But this wasn't just any strike. His speed, power, reflexes, technique, and martial arts knowledge were all evident in that move. He's no ordinary fighter."

The gaze of Zara's sensei was fixed passionately on Max in the combat arena, recognizing that Max had the potential to be a top-tier fighter, possibly even an undisputed champion.

Beside him was a man named Georges St-Pierre, who wanted to become Max's coach to take him to the big leagues and make him an MMA legend. However, his interest faded instantly as he realized Max likely already had a good coach.

"Georges, could it be he only uses power strikes? If I prepare in advance and adopt a defensive strategy, he couldn't knock me out with one hit," asked Joey Quinn, feeling that his trainer might be more interested in Max than himself.

Georges shook his head and said, "With his speed and power, breaking through your defense wouldn't be hard. With his abilities, among the young fighters I know, he could easily rank in the top ten."

"I don't think so. You're exaggerating. If he were that good, would he be fighting in a place like this?" Joey asked with a sneer.

Georges frowned, wondering why a fighter of Max's caliber would be there.

The third match was about to begin.

The third challenger was a fit, muscular Black man wearing white shorts, bouncing from side to side in the combat arena. He looked very agile.

"Haha, this time won't be an easy opponent. He won't win this round so easily," Joey said, feeling intimidated even before considering challenging Max—a sign of how poorly he was doing mentally.

On stage, the third match began.

Max bumped fists with the challenger in white shorts, who didn't wait to get hit but quickly stepped back, circling around the edge of the combat arena, refusing to engage directly with Max.

"Johnson, keep running! Don't let him catch you!"

"Johnson, you're the sprint champion!"

"Max, take him down!"

Max smiled at the man in white shorts; aside from being agile, this opponent was even weaker than his previous rivals in several aspects. Outpacing him in speed would make him easy to handle.

Seizing the moment when the man in white shorts reached the corner of the combat arena, Max stepped forward and ran toward his opponent, causing him to jump and raise his fists defensively.

Max opened his opponent's guard with a spinning kick and, taking advantage of his lowered defense, followed with a kick straight to his face.

Bam!

The second kick had more force and struck the temple of the man in white shorts, sending him crashing into the ropes. He struggled for a moment before falling through the ropes onto the ground.

"Wow!"

"Another one-hit KO!" A gasp erupted from the crowd.

The audience, realizing his formidable skill and strength, began to cheer and shout his name while clapping their hands. No tricks were needed for him to win.

"Max has won again!"

"One-eyed, one-eyed man is really amazing."

"Fighting three opponents with just one punch each, I bet he's definitely a professional fighter."

"I declare the champion of this month's Karate match to be… Max Jones!" The referee announced, raising Max's arm.

The crowd roared loudly.

Max closed his eyes and listened to the cheers from below. He felt his spirits lighter and more uplifted than ever.