Chapter 26: The Path of Strength

Jackim stood frozen in the empty alleyway, his heart pounding in his chest. The man had vanished as if he were never there, but the weight of his words remained.

"You're still weak."

Jackim clenched his fists. He had heard those words all his life—from teachers, from rich classmates, from landlords who looked at him like dirt.

He thought winning in the underground arena meant something.

But now, he realized…

It was just the beginning.

---

That night, Jackim lay in his tiny apartment, staring at the cracked ceiling. He was exhausted, his body sore from the fight, but his mind refused to rest.

"Who was that guy? How did he know about my fight?"

But more importantly…

"How strong is he?"

Jackim had always been mocked, ridiculed for his poverty, looked down on in every social setting. But this was different. This wasn't mockery. It was dismissal. The man had looked at him like an ant—unworthy of even stepping into his world.

Jackim hated that feeling.

He needed to get stronger.

---

The following morning, Jackim went straight to Han. The underground trainer was sitting in his usual spot at the arena's backroom, sipping tea like he didn't have a care in the world.

Han raised an eyebrow as Jackim stormed in. "You look like a guy who either got dumped or just realized the world is a lot bigger than he thought."

Jackim ignored the comment. "Train me."

Han smirked. "I already am, kid."

"Not like before," Jackim snapped. "Push me harder. I want to be stronger."

Han studied him, his smirk fading. "You met someone, didn't you?"

Jackim hesitated before nodding.

Han sighed and set down his cup. "Listen, kid. If you go down this path, there's no turning back. You'll piss off the wrong people. The strong don't just get respect—they make enemies."

Jackim's eyes burned with determination. "Then I'll deal with them."

Han chuckled. "You're serious, huh?"

Jackim didn't answer. He didn't need to.

Han exhaled and stood up. "Fine. No more baby steps. Your real training starts today."

---

The next week was hell.

Han wasn't holding back anymore.

Jackim woke up before dawn, his body aching from the previous night's training, only to be thrown into another brutal session.

His punches weren't just trained for power now—they had to be precise, fast, and deadly.

His footwork wasn't just about dodging—it had to be unpredictable, efficient, and unbreakable.

His endurance wasn't just for lasting in a fight—it had to be for surviving anything.

And the worst part?

Han started bringing in real fighters. Men who had been in this world for years.

Jackim lost.

Again.

And again.

And again.

But he refused to break.

Each time he fell, he got up faster. Each time he lost, he learned something new. Pain became his teacher, and every bruise was a lesson.

Until, finally—

He started winning.

---

One evening, after another brutal sparring session, Jackim stepped out of the underground arena, his shirt soaked in sweat. He was exhausted but satisfied.

Then, just as he turned the corner—

A soft, familiar voice stopped him.

"Jackim…?"

Jackim froze.

Slowly, he turned.

Standing in the dim streetlight was a girl he never thought he'd see again.

His ex-girlfriend.

The one who left him for being poor.