The Truth

The tension in the combat arena, which previously hadn't burned with much intensity, was stoked by the unscrupulous announcer, Richard, who had no problem stirring up discord between the two fighters.

Ethan glared at Max, visibly angry, but Max's arrogant responses only escalated his fury.

Though Max was angry, he maintained his composure. He had just publicly declared that the fight would end within the first five minutes.

It was obvious that the fights so far hadn't lasted more than a minute before scoring a point. In fact, Max's matches were the only ones that had exceeded ten minutes before his opponent was knocked out.

It must be said that all of Max's fights had been incredibly entertaining due to his unique fighting style.

However, while his moves were visually captivating, all his opponents always ended up in bad shape.

Devon had taken it upon herself to investigate Ethan the night before. She had told Max that Ethan's strikes were powerful, his speed was considerable, and his technique was comparable to Miguel's.

Undoubtedly, he was a well-rounded opponent, the hardest kind to defeat.

To beat him in five minutes, Max would have to identify Ethan's weaknesses and exploit them to secure a victory.

But what was Ethan's weakness?

When Max reviewed videos of Ethan's fights, he couldn't spot any obvious flaws. That didn't mean there wasn't a way to fulfill the promise he had just made to the audience.

After thinking it through, Max decided to focus on physical endurance.

The greatest limitation of the human body is the lack of stamina. Excessive exertion leads to a decline in various bodily functions, coordination issues, and even a phenomenon known as fatigue.

If someone had infinite stamina, they could be called a superhuman.

Although Max wasn't a superhuman, his stamina far exceeded that of the average person.

Trained in China from a young age in both mind and body, Max endured grueling training routines regardless of his age. This intense regimen was the reason for his extraordinary strength at such a young age.

While training at the martial arts school, Ryan and the others trained for only six hours a day. But when Max returned home, he continued training, spending over ten hours daily. By the next day, he would recover nearly all his strength.

The hidden physical strength within him would allow Max to dominate the world of contact sports. At this moment, he was prepared, with a mentality far beyond what others could comprehend.

Max looked at Ethan and formed an idea.

Ethan, in turn, stared back at him and silently mouthed, "You're just a phony striker."

Max smiled casually at the shallow taunt, ready to prove whether his strikes were phony or not.

"Face each other. Bow."

"Look at your opponent. Bow!"

Max and Ethan bowed to one another before the referee initiated the fight.

"Fight!"

"Go, Max, no mercy!"

"Take him down!"

Johnny, watching Max from the student section, couldn't help but yell. Ethan had defeated many of his students, making him a formidable opponent.

Interestingly, before the match began, Ethan had been glaring at Max with hostility. But the moment the fight started, he cautiously stepped back two paces, creating more than a meter of distance between them, his expression calm and serious.

This opponent was composed and rational.

Some believe fighters create more tension than they feel to unnerve their opponents or make the fight more exciting. Yet, despite having insulted Max in front of thousands just minutes earlier, Ethan exuded tranquility.

Max realized that if this opponent could use his brain as well as his sharp tongue, the fight would indeed be challenging.

But that was exactly what Max wanted. He desired a strong rival to push himself closer to the final victory.

He was determined to lift that trophy—for his uncle Terry, his parents, and his friends.

"I'll win this tournament…"

Seeing Ethan retreat, Max clenched his fist and launched the first attack. His strategy was to use maximum speed to force Ethan to expend as much energy as possible defending himself.

In defense, one must remain active, control the pace, dictate the opponent's moves, and never allow them to rest.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

As soon as Max moved, he gained the advantage using just his fists. He abandoned defense completely and, relying solely on the techniques Johnny had taught his students, targeted Ethan's head with ferocious attacks.

The first five punches landed on Ethan's arms, and the sixth broke through his guard, grazing his left eyebrow.

Ethan grew furious and counterattacked with punches of exceptional speed.

Max sidestepped and landed a powerful reverse punch on Ethan's forehead. Being five centimeters taller, Max's strike landed slightly higher than expected.

Bam!

Ethan's resilience was remarkable, but the blow had clearly affected him. He staggered briefly before stabilizing himself.

"Point!" The referee stepped in, signaling Max to halt his advance.

The crowd erupted into cheers. While they hadn't witnessed any flashy moves, the intensity of the blows was breathtaking.

"You've got this, finish him!"

"Defend yourself, Ethan, don't fight with brute force!"

Ethan's coach shouted from the sidelines.

Ethan raised his fists after recovering and muttered, "I'm fine, let's continue."

Max's seriousness during fights was intimidating. None of his playful persona from his competitive history emerged in the arena, giving him an aura of intimidation that unsettled his opponents, most of whom were older than him.

People often assumed Max had severe personality issues, but they didn't know why he fought.

He refused to feel weak again, to die unable to protect his loved ones. If he were to face his end, he wanted no regrets, no pain.

That singular drive fueled Max. Every strike he delivered carried ferocity and rage, emotions he only unleashed in battle. His blows bore the weight of his past, setting him apart from any karate student.

Devon understood this well. No one could rival Max—not even the great masters or prodigies. Eventually, they would all be surpassed by her friend, who fought for more than just glory.

Ethan, now feeling Max's intensity, realized his opponent was anything but weak. Despite this, he was prepared to push himself to the limit and prove his resolve.

"Fight!"

This time, Ethan protected his head tightly, fully understanding his coach's advice.

Max had declared that the fight would end in five minutes. If Ethan could last that long without being knocked out, how could Max continue to boast?

Ethan's strategy was to defend and deny Max the chance to land another critical hit.

Max couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment as he noticed Ethan's defensive tactics.

Ethan, with his small head and thick arms, crossed his arms over his head, making it harder for Max to break through.

The referee kept a close watch, ensuring Ethan's moves were defensive and not an indication he couldn't continue.

Now, if Max doesn't push himself, how will he unleash his full potential in this fight?

"Now!"

Max switched up his combination of strikes, replacing the punches that broke through his opponent's defense with a more direct, strong, and heavy approach.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Max threw powerful punches, hitting Ethan's defense hard. Ethan showed no signs of pain. Max launched eight strikes in total—five of which Ethan dodged. Two landed on Ethan's arm, and the last one grazed him. But that impact was enough for the referee to award Max a point.

"Point!"

Ethan was momentarily stunned and staggered but quickly stabilized himself, showing he could endure the hit.

"Ethan! Come on!"

"No mercy!"

Max's fans in the audience cheered loudly, and the atmosphere was electric.

"Max said he wanted to knock out Ethan in five minutes. Will he pull it off?"

"It's very difficult. I don't think he can do it without scoring another point, and we all know that could end the match."

"You're right. We all know that three points are more than enough to defeat an opponent. Let's not forget that a point is awarded only when a legal hit causes the opponent visible pain. So, if Ethan is marked again, he'll lose."

"But losing isn't a bad thing. Remember this, young competitors—you're still learning, and as long as you don't reach professional competitions, these defeats won't count."

In the audience, a man listening to the radio broadcast of the commentators frowned.

"When will that idiot get what he deserves?"

"Yeah, he's so arrogant."

Terry, who overheard these remarks, simply smiled. Of course, Max wasn't going to be loved by everyone, and that was fine. Being hated meant he was doing something right.

"Come on, Max, use kicks!" Devon shouted at the top of her lungs as she watched Max fight.

Ryan, standing beside her, remained calm. He knew his best friend wouldn't lose. "We'll face each other in the finals."

"That would be amazing—to fight each other," Miguel said. He knew it was a possibility and couldn't wait to seriously compete against his friend.

Hawk, on the other hand, wasn't eager to fight his friends, but he had to admit it would be awesome.