I Thought I Was Bullying a Nobody, But He's a Martial Arts Genius - Chapter 27

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Bullied Without Knowing He’s a Combat Genius — Episode 027
Baek Seo-jun’s name erupted once more.
KCR Featherweight Tournament, two consecutive victories.
Both fights ended in First Round KO.
The first was against Oh Geon-woo, a ten-fight professional veteran.
The second was against Ma Do-hyun, ranked tenth in Axis Korea.
Both went down.
The headlines grew larger.

The online community exploded.
-Even the Oh Geon-woo fight was insane, but Ma Do-hyun was a real shock.
-Putting down a ranked fighter with no-hit isn’t possible.
-At this point, it’s not coincidence anymore.
-Is his punching power monstrous?
-It’s not just raw power. His timing is absolutely insane.
The other competitors stopped laughing.
When Seo-jun’s name appeared in the Waiting Room footage, several fighters’ faces hardened.
Some shook their heads.
Some spoke quietly with their coaches.
Seo-jun was no longer a novelty rookie.
He’d become a name to avoid.

* * *
A combat sports Broadcasting Studio.
Seo-jun’s highlights played across the panel screen.
The Oh Geon-woo fight.
Blood spraying.
The invisible Right Counter.
The Ma Do-hyun fight.
Drawing out the southpaw’s left hand, then the Cross Counter planted on the jaw.
The host pointed at the screen.
“Baek Seo-jun already has two consecutive First Round KOs in the KCR. Is it simply that his punch is that powerful?”
The commentator beside him shook his head.
“No. His punching power is certainly impressive. But the key isn’t strength.”
The screen played in slow motion.
Ma Do-hyun’s left shoulder tightens.
Seo-jun’s right foot moves a half-beat first.
The fist plants on the point of the chin.
“Look here. Baek Seo-jun waits for the moment his opponent commits deepest.”
“So he’s using the incoming force?”
“Exactly. He’s not hitting with his own power alone. His opponent’s forward momentum, the weight transfer, the moment the jaw opens—he reads all of it in an instant and places his strike at the most vulnerable point.”
Another panelist picked up the thread.
“There was talk of him being a one-tool striker, but we need to see this differently now.”
“How so?”
“He’s an instinctive hard puncher. With his natural Dynamic Visual Acuity, he reads the gaps, and strikes the vital point with perfect Timing. That’s why the KOs keep coming.”
The screen switched to the Oh Geon-woo bout.
Oh Geon-woo throws a jab.
At the same moment, Seo-jun’s Right Counter catches the jaw.
“This moment too. Even with his vision obscured by blood, he caught the rhythm.”
“So he’s not a fighter who just sees with his eyes.”
“Right. He absorbs his opponent’s rhythm even while getting hit, then detonates at the next opening.”
The host leaned forward.
“Then we can call him a championship contender now?”
The commentator paused to consider.
“I believe so.”
The studio stirred.
“Of course, mountains still remain. The KCR Featherweight Tournament is no easy stage. But Baek Seo-jun has already passed two verifications. A veteran wrestler. A southpaw ranked fighter. Both finished within the first round.”
“The next phase is something to watch for.”
In the end, there’s only one picture everyone wants to see.
A new name appeared on screen.

Footage from the previous match played across the broadcast.
A broad back.
A low stance.
The relentless pressure driving the opponent into the Cage.
And the Championship Belt.
[This is a matchup with Lee Sung-jun, the current Korean champion.]
The host nodded.
[Let’s briefly walk through the Axis championship structure here.]
A graphic appeared.

Korea.
Japan.
The United States.
Brazil.
Champions from each nation.
Arrows rose above them.

Asia.
North America.
South America.
Europe.
Continental champions.
At the very top.

[Axis has National Champions in each country, and above them are Continental Champions by region. And at the pinnacle stands the World Champion.]
[It means being a Korean champion isn’t the end—it’s the beginning.]
[Exactly. Lee Sung-jun is currently the Axis Korea Featherweight Champion. If Baek Seo-jun breaks through KCR, someday he can challenge for that belt.]
The host looked at Seo-jun’s face on screen.
The moment he’d raised his fist, blood streaking his knuckles.
The moment he’d stood quietly after a No-Hit Knockout.
[The bullied boy has climbed from the Rookies all the way to KCR. Now he’s being mentioned in the same breath as Korean champion.]
The commentator spoke quietly.
[The question is simple.]
[What is it?]
[How far will this momentum carry him?]
The screen shifted back to Lee Sung-jun’s face.
Cold eyes.
The Championship Belt cinched around his waist.
A caption rose above it.

* * *
One month later.
KCR Featherweight Round of 16.
Seo-jun stood at the entrance to the Cage.
The wound above his left eye had healed considerably.
But it wasn’t fully mended.
Looking closely, the skin beneath the stitching was still thin.
A strong scrape could reopen it.
Do Yoon examined Seo-jun’s face up close.
“I’m saying this one last time.”
“Yes.”
“If that wound tears open, I’m throwing in the towel immediately.”
Seo-jun nodded.
“I understand.”
“If you don’t listen and try to tough it out, I’m going in there and dragging you out myself.”
“Understood.”
Do Yoon’s eyes narrowed to slits.
“You really know what you’re doing?”
Baek Seo-jun flexed his Gloves open and closed.
“I wouldn’t be sure otherwise.”
Do Yoon let out a hollow laugh.
“Easy to say.”
“I’ll show you.”
The Referee gestured.
Baek Seo-jun stepped into the Cage.
His opponent was already in the center, rolling his shoulders.
This one had a kickboxing base.
Not particularly tall, but his hands were fast.
‘He won’t wait.’
The Referee’s hand rose.
“Fight!”
The bell sounded.
Baek Seo-jun exploded forward.
His opponent’s eyes widened.
This wasn’t how it was supposed to unfold.
Baek Seo-jun waiting for the Counter.
Baek Seo-jun dodging and reading.
That’s what he’d prepared for.
But Baek Seo-jun erased the distance instantly.
Snap!
His front foot planted on the mat.
Left jab.
The guard came up.
Through the gap, the right hand thrust into the body.
Thump!
The opponent’s breath caught.
Baek Seo-jun didn’t stop.
Left Hook.
Right Straight.
A short Knee Kick feint.
Left hand again.
Bang!
The guard wavered.
[Baek Seo-jun, applying pressure from the opening round!]
[Completely different from his previous fights! This is offense, not Counter!]
The opponent stumbled backward.
Baek Seo-jun pressed forward.
There were no wasted movements.
No wild swings.
Every punch aimed exactly where it needed to land.
Between the guards.
Below the elbows.
The moment the jaw opened.
The opponent threw a right hand.
Baek Seo-jun’s head slipped half a palm’s width.
The fist cut through empty air.
Simultaneously, Baek Seo-jun’s left hand struck beneath the opponent’s jaw.
Crack!
The opponent’s legs buckled.
Baek Seo-jun stepped in closer.
Right hand.
Left hand.
Right hand.
Crash!
The final punch shattered the jaw.
The opponent crumpled backward.
Thud!
The referee threw himself forward immediately.
“Stop! Fight’s over!”
The Octagon erupted.
Roooaaaaaaaa—!
[That’s it! Baek Seo-jun with another First Round KO in the Round of 16!]
[That makes three consecutive First Round KOs in this KCR tournament!]
[And what’s even more remarkable — he hasn’t taken a single clean hit! Two straight victories with No-Hit performances!]
The crowd swayed.
“Baek Seo-jun!”
“Baek Seo-jun!”
“Baek Seo-jun!”
Seo-jun exhaled slowly.
His left eye.
Unmarked.
Not a drop of blood had spilled.

* * *
After the match.
Seo-jun climbed out of the Cage.
Do Yoon studied his face for a long moment.
His forehead.
His eyes.
His lips.
His cheeks.
Not a trace of contact anywhere.
Do Yoon laughed in disbelief.
“Hey.”
“Yes?”
Do Yoon tapped the back of Seo-jun’s shoulder.
“How does a guy come out of a fight looking this clean?”
Seo-jun paused to consider.
Then he answered flatly.
“You told me not to get hit, Coach.”
Do Yoon’s expression froze.
Tae-su burst out from beside him.
“Hahahaha!”
A-yeon couldn’t hold back her laughter either.
“This kid is really…….”
But the corners of her mouth were already lifting.
Seo-jun quietly drank the water he’d been handed.
His name still echoed from the stands.
Three consecutive First Round KOs.
Two consecutive No-Hit victories.
The KCR Featherweight Tournament could no longer ignore Baek Seo-jun.

* * *
Stadium Corridor.
Team Jujak was making its way back to the Waiting Room.
Tae-su was still chattering ahead of them.
“I mean, seriously, three First Round KOs in a row? Two of them No-Hit? This guy’s a broken character, isn’t he?”
Do Yoon spoke with obvious irritation.
“Shut it.”
“But Coach, you’re happy too.”
“Being happy and you being loud are two different things.”
A-yeon checked Seo-jun’s face from behind.
His left eye.
The skin hadn’t split.
The swelling was minimal.
She exhaled softly.
“At least I won’t have to go to the hospital today.”
Baek Seo-jun nodded.
“Yes.”
Do Yoon tossed out a comment from beside him.
“Still, ice it down. You’ll swell up again if you’re not careful.”
“Understood.”
The KCR Tournament bracket was posted on the corridor wall.
Featherweight Round of 16.
The names of those advancing to the Quarterfinals were being filled in one by one.
One of them.

The black letters stood out clearly.
Tae-su saw it and shrugged his shoulders.
“Hey, aren’t you really in championship contention now?”
Do Yoon answered immediately.
“Don’t talk like that. It gets harder from the next fight.”
“Come on, let’s just enjoy the moment.”
“I’ve seen plenty of guys who got comfortable and had their jaws turned around.”
Tae-su puckered his lips.
Baek Seo-jun walked in silence.
Cheers echoed faintly from the end of the corridor.
The next fight was about to start.
Staff members moved back and forth busily.
Cameramen passed by, and seconds from other teams carried equipment bags.
Then.
A group walked toward them from the end of the opposite corridor.
One fighter.
Three coaches.
Black hoodie.
Black shorts.
Slippers over bare feet.
The man at the center of that group was distinctly striking.
Irezumi tattoos began at his neck, crossed his collarbone, and covered his chest and shoulders.
Blue scales.
The pattern wrapped around his neckline like scales.
Red flowers and black waves extended down his arms.
The hoodie zipper hung half-open, his entire upper body intertwined with ink.
Tae-su slowed his pace.
“What? That tattooed bastard is Featherweight too?”
Do Yoon’s gaze flicked briefly toward the bracket.
“Yeah.”
“Then we might end up fighting him later?”
“If he makes it through.”
Do Yoon’s voice had dropped.
“He’s fighting today.”
Baek Seo-jun looked at the man.
And.
His step stopped.
Dead.
The sole of his shoe stuck to the corridor floor.
A-yeon felt the shift first.
“Seo-jun?”
Baek Seo-jun didn’t answer.
His face, quiet until just a moment ago, had turned cold and hard.
Not blank.
Not frozen.
Something was rising up from within him—his face showed it.
Do Yoon’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
Baek Seo-jun’s hand clenched into a fist.
Very slowly.
The tendons in the back of his hand stood out.
The man across from him noticed Seo-jun as well.
At first, he’d meant to walk past.
Then he stopped.
His eyes narrowed.
A beat later.
The corner of his mouth lifted.
It was sharp.
The face of someone who’d found an amusing toy.
“Huh?”
He broke away from the group.
One of the coaching staff called out.
“Why?”
The man didn’t answer.
He walked toward Seo-jun.
His slippers dragged across the corridor floor.
Tap.
Tap.
Without hesitation.
He came to a stop directly in front of Seo-jun.
Do Yoon reflexively stepped forward half a pace.
“What is it.”
The man glanced at Do Yoon.
Then looked back at Seo-jun.
“Wow.”
He laughed, low and deliberate.
“It really is you.”
Seo-jun’s gaze grew colder.
A-yeon’s expression hardened.
Tae-su looked between the two of them.
“Do you two know each other?”
Seo-jun didn’t answer.
The man tilted his head slightly, studying Seo-jun’s face.
As if appraising something from long ago.
“Read the article. Fighting prodigy with a bullying past?”
He chuckled.
“The world’s come a long way.”
Seo-jun’s shoulder shifted—barely perceptible.
Do Yoon caught it.
That movement.
A reaction he’d almost never seen inside the Cage.
The man leaned in closer.
“You’ve become famous.”
His gaze dropped to the scar near Seo-jun’s eye.
“The kid who used to take the hits is playing athlete now.”
Do Yoon’s face turned ugly.
“Watch your mouth.”
The man didn’t look at Do Yoon.
He kept his eyes on Seo-jun alone.
His grin widened.
“What. Still can’t talk?”
The air in the corridor turned cold.
A few staff members stopped moving.
Even the cameraman subtly swung his lens their way.
Seo-jun stood motionless.
The same eyes that hadn’t wavered when he was drenched in blood against Oh Geon-woo.
The same cold eyes after putting Ma Do-hyun down in one strike.
Those eyes now.
Were beginning to change.
His indifference fell away.
Killing intent rose in its place.
The man saw it and laughed, delighted.
“Still the same eyes, I see.”
He reached up to tap Seo-jun on the shoulder.
Do Yoon’s hand caught his wrist instantly.
Click.
“Don’t touch him.”
The man looked down at Do Yoon’s hand.
Then he smiled slowly.
“So the coach is his guardian?”
Do Yoon’s grip tightened.
“Get lost.”
The man wrenched his wrist free.
Then he leaned his face close to Seo-jun’s.
The Irezumi on his neck writhed grotesquely under the corridor’s fluorescent light.
“Long time no see.”
The man’s voice dripped with mockery as he drawled the words.
“Punch bag.”
In that instant.
Seo-jun’s gaze flickered.
Those eyes that wouldn’t dim even bleeding in the Octagon.
A past long buried within them erupted like fire.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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