novelhk Page 205
Page 205
Viktor swayed left and right, trying to get closer, but Big K's agile footwork always allowed him to maintain the optimal distance.
He wants to wear you down!
Ethan yelled from the sidelines, "Don't rush! Wait for your chance!"
Viktor heard it, but he didn't like the feeling of being suppressed.
He attempted a feint and then lunged forward, but Big K's long arms blocked his way like a barrier.
A jab struck Victor's brow bone; although it was blocked by the boxing gloves, it was a very bad sign.
The crowd cheered; they loved watching the attack.
Big K's fans chanted his name, while Viktor's supporters shouted anxiously, "Charge in!"
Chapter 172 Klitschko
Viktor tried again, this time lowering his center of gravity and suddenly diving forward.
As Dak retreated, he threw an uppercut that nearly hit Viktor's chin.
Viktor felt the force of the punch brush past the tip of his nose.
Halfway through the round, Viktor still hadn't been able to get close enough to make contact.
Big K's control was impeccable; every move he made was precisely calculated, always interrupting Viktor's rhythm by retreating or throwing a punch just as Viktor was about to enter burst range.
"Calm down! Viktor, calm down!"
Old Jack shouted.
Viktor took a deep breath and forced himself to relax.
He noticed that Da Ke's breathing had begun to quicken—the frequent movement and punches were indeed exhausting, but his own situation was worse, as he had barely been able to launch any effective attacks.
The bell finally rang, and the first round ended.
Back in the corner, Ethan immediately handed the water bottle to Victor.
"He's trying to lure you in, don't fall for it. He's expending more energy than you, so a protracted battle is to our advantage."
Viktor nodded, panting.
"His sense of distance is too good; I can't break through."
"Then let him come to you. In the second round, retreat slightly and give him the illusion that you are tired."
In another corner, Da Ke's coach patted him on the shoulder.
“Perfect round, keep controlling him like this. He’ll get impatient soon and make mistakes.”
Da Ke wiped his face with a towel.
"His defense is very good. He blocked several of my heavy punches, and he expended much less energy than me. I didn't even see him make any explosive movements."
"It's okay, accumulate points. You're in the lead, you have enough stamina for twelve rounds."
The bell rang again.
As soon as the bell rang to start the second round, Viktor's expression changed.
He no longer pressed forward hastily as he had in the first round, but instead lowered his center of gravity slightly, drawing a slow arc in the center of the ring.
His footwork became cautious and precise, always maintaining the perfect distance from his opponent.
Under the spotlight, beads of sweat slid down his angular face, splashing into tiny droplets on the canvas floor.
Da Ke was indeed fooled.
The taller, longer-reaching challenger approached aggressively, unleashing a barrage of left jabs like a viper's tongue.
Bang bang bang——!!!
The fists slammed into Victor's defensive arm one after another, producing dull, solid impacts.
Viktor constantly adjusted his angle during the gaps in his parries, locking onto his opponent's movements through the gaps in his gloves.
Just as the commotion in the stands reached its peak, Da Ke unleashed a right straight punch that tore through the air.
Viktor dodged by a hair's breadth, and the fist grazed his earlobe.
The buzzing sound instantly penetrated the cranial cavity, as if the world had been covered with a veil.
But the muscle memory formed over years of training had already kicked in—almost at the same moment the tinnitus started, his left hook slammed into Dak's abdomen like a cannonball.
The collision of leather and muscle produced a solid, muffled thud.
The punch caused Da Ke's abdomen to convulse, and the stands erupted in cheers like a tsunami.
Through his blurry vision, Victor saw his opponent's brows furrow suddenly, and for the first time, that seemingly impenetrable body showed signs of wavering.
But long-standing traditional training experience forced Dak to immediately counterattack.
Instead of retreating, he suddenly pressed forward, his arms pounding down on Viktor like a storm.
The two instantly engaged in a breathtaking exchange of punches, the whistling sound of fists tearing through the air and the muffled thuds of impacts against protective gear intertwining into a brutal symphony.
"Okay! That's it!"
Ethan's hoarse roar pierced through the waves of sound: "He doesn't have ribs that are five centimeters thick!"
Viktor felt a long-lost fighting spirit surge through his veins.
This is his domain, a kingdom built with blood in countless boxing matches. No one is more suited to close-quarters combat than him—not even Tyson now.
A tricky left hook pierced through the gap in the defense and struck Da Ke precisely in the cartilage under his ribs.
He then feinted with a right straight punch, actually creating an angle for his subsequent uppercut—but Da Ke leaned back in time, the glove grazing his chin and creating a gust of wind.
Vitali Klitschko's counterattack was extremely fierce.
A concealed uppercut came from below, and Victor quickly retracted his jaw, the edge of his glove barely grazing his mouthguard.
The two stared at each other at a distance where they could hear each other breathing, sweat and saliva flying in the swirling air of their punches.
Viktor keenly observed the changes:
Da Ke's chest heaved noticeably faster, and a fleeting look of surprise flashed across his usually unsettlingly calm eyes.
"He didn't expect me to dare to fight back; he thought his punches would be heavier than mine!"
This realization sent Viktor's adrenaline soaring even higher: "That's why boxing organizations don't record punching power data!"
He decisively pressed forward, using a combination of punches to create an impenetrable offensive.
Big K tried to regain control of the distance, but Victor's right hook followed closely, tearing through the defense and striking his opponent's ribs once again.
The sound of leather colliding with bone made the audience in the front row gasp.
As the bell rang to end the round, both men were simultaneously throwing powerful punches.
Viktor's cross punch sank deep into Big K's abdomen, while Big K's counter-punch grazed his temple, causing a dizzying sensation.
They remained frozen in their post-strike positions for a moment, their sweat-soaked chests heaving violently, and an unprecedented solemnity rising in their intertwined gazes.
Within the small area enclosed by ropes, only the rustling of leather boxing gloves and the heavy breathing of two warriors could be heard.
Back in the corner, Victor was panting heavily.
Ethan said while giving him water, "Much better! You've got him into your rhythm. But he's expending more energy than expected, see? He's jumping around a lot, and his steps are slower than last round."
Old Jack looked at Vitali Klitschko and said, “Soviet boxers are indeed very strong. Their ribs and abdomens are specially trained to withstand blows. Your two hooks didn’t cause much damage to their bones!”
"His abdomen wasn't firm; it had a layer of fat."
Victor nodded: "In the third round, continue to wear him down."
"That's right. Don't rush to finish him off; let him tire himself out and accumulate damage. The opportunity will come. There's no need for four rounds!"
In another corner, Da Ke's coach looked somewhat worried.
"Your heart is beating too fast, relax. Don't exchange punches with him, that's not part of our game plan."
Da Ke took a few deep breaths.
“He’s stronger than he looks in the video. I have better room to maneuver, but his punches are more powerful! I need to regain control of the distance.”
"Use your footwork, don't stand still and attack him head-on. Move, move and move some more."
As soon as the bell rang to start the third round, Da Ke displayed a completely different rhythm from before.
He stopped switching punches like he did in the second round and started moving around with agile footwork, lightly tapping and jumping on the canvas, like a leaf free from pressure, always hovering at the edge of Viktor's attack range.
"He's regaining his rhythm!"
Old Jack shouted from the sidelines, his voice cutting through the crowd's clamor, "Don't let him have his way! Press him down!"
Viktor immediately pressed forward, his attacks like waves, trying to force Big K into a corner of the ropes.
But Dak's movements were skillful and composed, always sliding to the side at the last moment or suddenly backing away to dodge Viktor's heavy punches.
Moreover, Dak kept throwing precise jabs while moving, like stray arrows, repeatedly interrupting Viktor's offensive momentum.
A jab suddenly pierced through Viktor's defense and struck him squarely in the forehead.
Fresh blood immediately seeped out, slowly flowing towards his tightly clenched braces.
Victor simply shook his head, his eyes growing even fiercer, and continued to stride forward, pressing forward.
Immediately following, another straight punch landed on Viktor's forehead, producing a dull thud. Viktor's body jolted slightly, but he did not slow down at all.
Applause began to erupt from the audience, growing louder and louder—a tribute to Viktor's tenacity.
He was like an enraged bull, oblivious to pain and unafraid of impact, while Da Ke was like an elegant and composed matador, controlling the situation with light steps and precise strikes.
But everyone knows that in this bloody dance, a single mistake by the matador could lead to his complete destruction.
Halfway through the round, Viktor keenly noticed that Big K's movement speed had decreased by half a point.
Frequent jumps and high-speed movements were draining Dak's energy, while Viktor's relentless pressure left him no chance to catch his breath.
"He's tired."
Viktor muttered to himself, then intensified his pressure, throwing more frequent punches and striking with greater determination.
Suddenly, Big K missed with a powerful right punch, his body leaning slightly forward due to the excessive force—Victor's waiting opportunity had finally arrived.