I Thought I Was Bullying a Nobody, But He's a Martial Arts Genius - Chapter 44

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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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Fighting Genius, Bullied Daily — Episode 44
Lee Woo-sung returned to the corner.
His gait was rigid.
But his face was not.
His left cheekbone had swollen.
Blood trickled from beneath his nose.
His lip was split open.
The second rushed a stool forward.
“Sit.”
Lee Woo-sung sat without a word.
The coach pressed a water bottle to his mouth.
“Rinse.”
Lee Woo-sung held the water in his mouth and spat it out.
Red-tinged water fell into the bucket.
The coach’s expression hardened.
“You all right?”
Lee Woo-sung didn’t answer immediately.
He drew in a long, deep breath.
His chest rose heavily.
Then he looked toward the opposite corner.
Baek Seo-jun.
Breathing hard.
But his eyes were alive.
Lee Woo-sung wiped the blood from his lips.
“His hands are sharper than I expected.”
The coach clicked his tongue low.
“Sharp doesn’t even begin to cover it.”
He pressed an ice pack against Lee Woo-sung’s cheekbone.
“I’ve never seen your legs give out like that from a counter in a clinch.”
Lee Woo-sung’s eyes narrowed slightly.
The moment returned to him.
The steel cage.
The tight clinch against the fence.
His hands pulling the neck.
Baek Seo-jun folding his body inside.
And the short hook that exploded up beneath the chin.
Crack.
That brief impact.
In that instant, his legs truly gave way.
It wasn’t an act.
His body had lagged behind.
His vision had wavered.
One beat later and he might have gone down.
The coach lowered his voice.
“You did well pulling back after that. Any longer and you’d really have been in trouble.”
Lee Woo-sung nodded.
“I know.”
“The crowd thinks you’re fine. He probably felt deceived too, by the end.”
The coach examined the swelling.
“But there’s damage. The chin especially. Take another shot to the same spot next time and you’ll struggle to hold.”
Lee Woo-sung kept his eyes on Seo-jun.
“Then I’ll finish it before that.”
Just then, a cold voice cut through from outside the steel cage.
“Are you really that confident?”
It was Seo Ha-yoon.
Black suit.
Cold eyes.
But his voice carried an undertone of urgency.
“You’re not actually going to lose like this, are you?”
The coach let out a laugh of disbelief.
“Manager.”
Ha-yoon looked at him.
The coach’s expression darkened.
“This is a fighting arena, not a boardroom.”
Ha-yoon’s eyebrow twitched.
The coach paid no mind.
“Don’t rattle your fighter when you can’t even see what kind of punches the other side is throwing.”
Ha-yoon’s lips pressed into a thin line.
“I’m asking for results.”
Lee Woo-sung raised his hand.
The coach fell silent.
Lee Woo-sung removed his mouthpiece and turned to spit blood-tinged saliva to the side.
Thwack.
The blood dripped onto the mat.
His breathing was still ragged.
But his eyes were cold.
His answer to Ha-yoon never wavered.
“That won’t happen.”
Ha-yoon looked down at him.
Lee Woo-sung glanced back at Seo-jun.
“Everything’s gone according to my plan so far.”
The coach’s eyes narrowed slightly.
Lee Woo-sung spoke quietly.
“I drained his stamina in Round One.”
His finger pressed against his own cheekbone.
“In Round Two, I drew out his explosive power.”
The coach asked, “Round Three?”

Lee Woo-sung fitted his mouthpiece back in.
His eyes remained fixed on the opposite corner.
“Now I break his will.”
His second cleared away the ice pack.
Lee Woo-sung rose slowly.
A swollen face.
Blood at the corner of his mouth.
But his stance was already dropping low again.

* * *
The air in Team Jujak’s corner had turned brittle.
Tae-su stood motionless, still gripping the towel.
A-yeon couldn’t take her eyes off the tablet either.
Just moments before.
Seo-jun had pressed relentlessly forward.
Connected with the jaw.
Rocked the temple.
Driven into the solar plexus.
Yet Lee Woo-sung hadn’t fallen.
He’d staggered as if groggy, but when the round ended, he’d walked back to his corner under his own power.
That image was seared into every mind.
Seo-jun sat in his corner chair.
His breath was still harsh.
Sweat and blood streaked his face.
But the most troubling thing was his eyes.
They were shaking.
Eyes that no longer trusted his own fists.
It was something he’d never felt before.
Seo-jun removed his mouthpiece and took in water.
He spit it out.
The water ran red.
He spoke quietly, almost to himself.
“My fists…….”
His voice cracked.
“They’re not landing, are they……?”
Tae-su’s face went rigid.
“Hey, what are you——”
Thunk.
Do Yoon’s forehead met Baek Seo-jun’s with a sharp press.
It wasn’t a violent headbutt.
But it was hard enough to snap the mind clear.
Seo-jun’s eyes locked onto Do Yoon’s.
Do Yoon stared at him from point-blank range.
“Keep your eyes open.”
Seo-jun swallowed.
Do Yoon’s voice didn’t waver.
“You doubting your own fists?”
Seo-jun couldn’t answer.
Do Yoon lowered his voice further.
“If you can’t trust your hands, think about all the men lying in hospital beds right now with broken jaws because of them.”
Tae-su stopped breathing.
A-yeon looked at Do Yoon too.
Do Yoon didn’t stop.
“Those bastards are probably watching the broadcast right now, cursing their luck.”
His gaze turned even fiercer.
“Damn it—what was I, if that didn’t work?”
Seo-jun’s pupils trembled.
Choi Gang-min.
Kang Chul-jin.
Jo Min-sung.
O Geon-woo.
Ma Do-hyeon.
Hwang Dae-geon.
The faces that had crumbled under his fists flashed through his mind.
Feet cutting through the air.
Knuckles driving into chins.
Bodies collapsing onto the mat.
That wasn’t coincidence.
It wasn’t luck either.
Do Yoon pressed his forehead against Seo-jun’s once more, gently.
“Get your head straight, Baek Seo-jun.”
Seo-jun’s hands slowly unclenched on his knees.
Do Yoon continued his breakdown.
“Lee Woo-sung—he definitely hit that Clinch Counter and went Groggy.”
Seo-jun’s eyes began to clear.
“Groggy……?”
“Yeah.”
Do Yoon’s finger pointed toward Lee Woo-sung’s corner.
“His legs gave out when your Short Hook landed. That wasn’t acting. That moment was real.”
Tae-su jumped in urgently.
“That’s right. I saw it too. His knees buckled.”
A-yeon added tersely.
“His upper body was slow to react. He couldn’t counter immediately.”
Do Yoon nodded.
“Everything after that was acting.”
Seo-jun breathed hard as he listened.
“Right before he was about to fall, he deployed a Turtle defense—to minimize the damage by folding in on himself.”
“Turtle……?”
“Right.”
Do Yoon raised both his forearms in front of his face.
“Guard up, chin tucked, roll with the impact when it lands. He thrashes around like he’s about to go down, but he absorbs the brunt of the hit instead. The crowd bought it, and so did you.”
Seo-jun’s eyes grew clearer and clearer.
Do Yoon’s words sank into him.
Only then did the second Round reveal itself differently.
The Guard had loosened.
The chin had dropped.
The shoulders had wavered.
That wasn’t a gap—it was a feint.
But the first Counter he’d taken before that was real.
Lee Woo-sung’s legs had genuinely given way.
Do Yoon pressed his chest with a finger.
“Your fist gets through.”
He drove home each word separately.
“It connects.”
Seo Jun clenched his fists harder.
Inside the Gloves, his fingers tingled.
Do Yoon spoke again.
“Your punch is heavy enough to rattle the brain even through a Guard.”
His voice grew firmer still.
“He took damage. No question.”
Seo Jun’s head snapped up suddenly.
“Then…”
Do Yoon’s gaze fixed on him.
Seo Jun looked toward the opposite Corner.
Lee Woo-sung stood there with blood on his face, composed as ever.
“The way he walked off so casually when that Round ended…”
Do Yoon’s mouth curved into a savage smile.
“Exactly.”
He nodded.
“Perfect theater.”
Seo Jun’s eyes narrowed.
Do Yoon jerked his chin toward Lee Woo-sung.
“A veteran’s cheap bluff. Trying to shake your mental state.”
Tae-su bared his teeth beside them.
“Is that what it was?”
“That’s exactly what it was.”
Do Yoon looked at Seo Jun again.
“He’s strong. I’ll give him that. But he’s not invincible. Your punch rattled him, and because he felt the danger, he mixed in the act.”
Seo Jun’s hands slowly relaxed.
Inside the Gloves, his fingers locked tight.
The doubt that had crumbled him moments before was gone.
His fist connects.
Lee Woo-sung can be shaken.
That one fact was enough.
Seo Jun spoke quietly.
“If he’s taken damage…”
Do Yoon’s eyes flashed.
Doubt vanished from Seo Jun’s gaze.
In its place settled a cold, predatory intensity.
“There’s nothing to fear.”
Do Yoon laughed sharply.
“That’s right.”
He rapped Seo Jun’s chest with his knuckles.
“Trust your fist. Press the attack.”
A-yeon handed him his Mouthpiece.
“But don’t get reckless.”
Seo Jun bit down on the Mouthpiece.
A-yeon’s voice dropped lower.
“Don’t try to catch him. Read him and strike.”
Seo Jun nodded.
“Got it.”
Rat-a-tat-tat!
The signal for the third round sounded.
“Seconds out!”
The attendants gestured toward the Cage entrance.
Tae-su gathered the towel and water bottle.
“Baek Seo-jun.”
Seo-jun looked at him.
Tae-su spoke tersely.
“Finish him.”
Seo-jun nodded instead of answering.
A-yeon stepped back as well.
Do Yoon lingered the longest.
He walked toward the Cage gate, then stopped.
From outside the Steel cage, he stared straight at Seo-jun.
And he roared.
“Baek Seo-jun!”
Seo-jun’s eyes turned toward Do Yoon.
“Believe in your fists!!”
Click.
The Cage gate shut.
The Octagon stood empty.
No Seconds.
No towel.
No water bottle.
Nothing remained.
Only two fighters walked toward the center.
Seo-jun moved his heavy legs.
One step.
Then another.
His body was exhausted.
His chest still burned.
But his eyes did not waver.
Across from him.
Lee Woo-sung advanced to the center as well.
He remained composed.
His spine was straight, his gait steady.
Even bloodied, he showed not a trace of hesitation.
The crowd stirred again at the sight.
“Is he really okay?”
“Lee Woo-sung’s mental state is insane.”
“Can Seo-jun finish this?”
Seo-jun let out an inward snort.
‘That face.’
He looked into Lee Woo-sung’s eyes.
Cold. Composed.
The perfect mask of a veteran.
But now he knew.
What lay beneath the mask.
A jaw that flinches when struck.
An instinct to hide the damage.
The calculation of a wounded animal sensing danger.
‘I’ll rip it off.’
Seo-jun’s guard rose.
‘The true face behind the mask.’
The Referee positioned himself between the two fighters.
Lee Woo-sung took a low stance.
Seo-jun lowered his knees as well.
Their eyes locked.
Ding!
The bell for Round 3 rang.

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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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