I Thought I Was Bullying a Nobody, But He's a Martial Arts Genius - Chapter 48

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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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MMA Prodigy, Unaware He Was Being Bullied – Episode 048
The article dropped like a bomb.

The MMA community erupted.
In the photo, Kuroda was smiling.
Black hair.
A thick neck.
A jaw carved like stone.
His torso was covered in tattoos.
Crimson lines spread across one side of his chest.
A pattern that inevitably conjured the image of the Rising Sun flag.
The comment section ignited instantly.
-What is that tattoo?
-Is he insane?
-They’re posting that as-is at the Continental Cup?
-I really hope Do-yoon breaks that jaw.
Kuroda was formidable.
Record: 19 fights, 18 wins, 1 loss.
12 Knockout victories.
3 Submission victories.
3 Decision victories.
His Striking was exceptional.
His Ground Fighting was exceptional.
His suffocating pressure in the Clinch—pinning and hammering away—was relentless.
But his most notorious trait was his fist.
Hard Puncher.
One solid hit, and your jaw snaps.
Land it clean, and the lights go out.
Japanese commentators called him this:

That night.
Kuroda’s pre-fight interview video was released.
The video was short.
But it was enough.
Kuroda wore a black sleeveless shirt.
Crimson markings were visible across his shoulder.
Beside them, Japanese characters were inscribed.
As the camera drew closer, he leaned back in his chair.
He smiled.
Just the corners of his mouth turned up.
It was an ugly smile.
[How do you assess Fighter Kang Do-yoon?]
The interpreter relayed the question.
Kuroda snorted derisively.
[Kang Do-yoon?]
He tilted his head.
[I don’t even know who he is.]
The interpreter paused.
But Kuroda pressed on.
[Korean fighters are always the same. All mouth, no substance.]
His finger pointed at the camera.
[Third-rate skill, but plenty of fear.]
Comments exploded beneath the video.
-What did he just say?
-That’s crossing the line.
-Third-rate?
-Do, you seen this yet?
-We gotta kill that bastard.
Kuroda didn’t stop.
[They’re always loud. But once they step into the cage, everything changes.]
He clenched his fist.
Tendons rose along the back of his hand.
[They avoid eye contact.]
He smiled slowly.
[They run away backward.]
And he spoke low.
[Because I want to live.]
The reporters stirred.
Even the interpreter’s face hardened.
But Kuroda seemed to be enjoying himself.
[Kang Do-yoon will be the same.]
He bent forward at the waist.
He looked straight at the lens.
[One round is enough.]
He struck his own palm with his fist.
Thwack.
[I’ll have him crawling beneath my feet.]
The video ended there.
But the fire had already caught.
Combat sports communities.
News comment sections.
Livestreams.
Social media.
It was all about Kuroda.
<Kuroda sparks controversy calling Korean fighters third-rate>
<Rising sun tattoo exposed… Asian Continental Cup officials remain silent>
<Kang Do-yoon’s comeback fight escalates into something beyond a Korea-Japan clash>
The comment sections overflowed with rage.
-This isn’t a fight, it’s punishment.
-Kang Do-yoon has to win, no question.
-If that bastard gets the belt, it’s a complete disaster.
-Crawling beneath him in round one? He’s the one who should be eating mat.
-Team Jujak, please give us an answer.
The video surpassed a million views in moments.
The short clips spread even faster.
[Korean fighters have nothing but big mouths.]
[Third-rate skill, but plenty of fear.]
[Kang Do-yoon? Never heard of him.]
[One round and I’ll have him crawling beneath my feet.]
Those sentences were cut out as subtitles.
They spread, fed by fury.
And at the end, there was always the same comment.
-Do-yoon, you’re not letting this slide, right?
-With your temperament, you’re not just ignoring this?
-Break his jaw.
-This time he really needs to bleed.
Inside Team Jujak Gym, the air was tense.
The same video played on loop across the screens.
Kuroda’s face.
That twisted smile.
The red insignia bared on his shoulder.
And the subtitles.
Thwack!
Tae-su hurled the mitts beside him onto the floor.
“Has that bastard completely lost his mind!”
Veins bulged in his neck.
“Third-rate? I’m going to rip that mouth wide open!”
The junior members of the gym bristled as well.
Kim Ji-hun’s fists were clenched tight.
“That crosses a line as a human being, never mind sportsmanship!”
Jin-hyuk stood leaning against the wall.
He said nothing.
But his jump rope had stopped long ago.
Seo-jun was watching the screen too.
His eyes had gone dark and distant.
His fingers curled slowly into fists.
His knuckles hardened even without gloves on.
“Coach.”
Seo-jun’s voice was low.
“Are we supposed to stay quiet after hearing something like that?”
Then.
Click.
A quiet sound rang out.
Every eye turned to one corner.
Kang Do-yoon sat on the bench.
His head bowed.
He was wrapping his hands with hand wraps.
Click.
White cloth wound around the back of his hand.
Click.
He tightened his wrist.
His face was blank.
No anger.
No fury.
No excitement.
Eerily, unnaturally calm.
Tae-su approached, his frustration plain.
“Coach! Did you hear that? That bastard just called all Korean fighters third-rate!”
Do-yoon didn’t answer.
He pressed the hand wraps firmly through each finger.
Click.
Seo-jun took a step closer.
“Coach.”
Only then did Do-yoon rise.
Slowly, he walked to the sandbag.
Without warning, he extended his fist.
Thud.
A light strike.
The sandbag swayed gently.
It was truly a soft blow.
But the sound carried low.
Resonant. Heavy.
The gym fell silent.
Do-yoon spoke, eyes on the bag.
“Running your mouth outside the cage.
His voice was cold.
That’s what third-rate fighters with nothing to lose do.”
Tae-su’s words caught.
Do-yoon pulled the end of the hand wrap taut again.
He tightened his wrist.
“Strong fighters don’t need to talk.”
He struck the sandbag once more.
Thud.
The bag swung back, then returned.
“They show it inside the cage.”
Seo-jun looked at Do-yoon’s profile.
Calm.
So calm it was unsettling.
Kang Do-yoon turned his head.
His eyes met Seo-jun’s.
In that moment.
A chill ran down Seo-jun’s spine.
The eyes that had seemed calm just moments before.
Something inside them had changed.
They’d gone cold.
Icy blue and frozen.
Not anger directed at a person.
The eyes of a predator studying prey.
Eyes that already knew exactly where to separate bone from flesh.
Where to strike to cut off breath.
Where to hit to shatter a jaw.
Where to tear to leave someone unable to rise again.
Eyes that had calculated it all.
Seo-jun had never seen eyes like that before.
Kang Do-yoon didn’t smile.
“Don’t worry.”
He spoke quietly.
“I’ll smash his jaw in the cage.”
He wrapped his wrist one more time.
Tap.
“And teach him a perfect lesson.”
The gym went still.
Tae-su’s anger.
The murmur of the newcomers.
Everything stopped in an instant.
A-yeon watched Kang Do-yoon quietly from behind the counter.
Her expression had grown grave.
“Do-yoon.”
He answered without turning his head.
“I know.”
“You can’t get worked up.”
“I’m not worked up.”
He stared at the sandbag.
“That’s why I can break it better.”
Seo-jun unclenched his fists, then squeezed them tight again.
His anger subsided slightly.
But a different sensation crept in.
Weight.
The weight of Kang Do-yoon.
Nothing like Kuroda, who ran his mouth.
Quiet in preparation.
Quiet in binding.
Quiet in destruction.
That was what a real veteran looked like.
Tae-su swallowed hard.
“Coach.”
Kang Do-yoon looked at him.
“What.”
“Let me help. Mitts, sparring, whatever you need.”
Kang Do-yoon let out a short laugh.
“You?”
“Yes.”
“Your jaw’ll go first.”
“…Well, that’s a bit much.”
The tension eased just slightly.
A few of the newcomers laughed quietly.
But Kang Do-yoon’s eyes remained cold.
He turned his gaze toward the television.
Kuroda was still smiling on the screen.
[In one round, I’ll have you crawling beneath my feet.]
Do-yoon picked up the remote.
Click.
The screen went dark.
The gym reflected in the black glass.
Do-yoon spoke.
“Starting today, we double the training volume.”
Tae-su’s face went rigid.
“Excuse me?”
“If I’m going to win, the whole team needs to rise.”
Do-yoon’s gaze found Seo-jun.
“Especially you.”
Seo-jun answered at once.
“Yes.”
“If you’re going to be my sparring partner, prepare yourself.”
Do-yoon picked up the gloves.
“This camp is no joke.”
Seo-jun nodded.
“I’ll keep up.”
Do-yoon smiled coldly.
A cold, killing intent lingered beneath that smile.
“Good.”
He walked toward the cage.
“Let’s begin.”

* * *
The day before the fight.
The Weigh-in Venue was packed shoulder to shoulder.
Cameras lined the space.
Reporters shoved against one another.
Flashbulbs erupted without pause.
Click! Click! Click!
On the stage stood the Asian Continental Cup Belt.
The Light Weight interim champion’s belt.
And before it.
Kang Do-yoon stepped down from the scale.
“Weigh-in passed!”
Applause erupted.
Do-yoon gave a single nod.
His body was lean.
But his eyes were sharper still.
A face drained of water.
Cheekbones carved clean.
A body with a blade beneath the skin.
Behind him, Kuroda climbed up.
He too had passed weigh-in.
Kuroda was chewing gum.
Snap.
Snap.
Loudly.
He raised his hand to the reporters.
He smiled with an air of casual confidence.
The flashbulbs erupted more ferociously.
The announcer called out.
“We’ll now proceed with the face-off!”
Both fighters walked to the center.
Do-yoon moved slowly.
Kuroda swaggered.
Rolling his shoulders side to side.
Chewing gum.
A sneer curled across his lips.
The distance between them narrowed.
One step.
Half a step.
Kuroda crossed the line first.
He closed the distance until he stood inches from Do-yoon’s face.
He leaned his body forward slightly.
Deliberately looking down.
“Hey.”
He laughed as though translation wasn’t even necessary.
“Korean.”
Do-yoon didn’t flinch.
Not a single eyebrow twitched.
He simply looked at Kuroda.
The way one might regard an insect on the street.
There was no emotion in his gaze.
No anger.
No excitement.
Which made it all the colder.
Kuroda’s smile stiffened slightly.
Click! Click! Click!
The cameras captured every moment.
Kuroda forced his mouth upward again.
He chewed his gum harder.
Snap.
Snap.
He jerked his chin toward Do-yoon’s shoulder.
“Tomorrow.”
Kuroda spoke low.
“You’ll be beneath me.”
Do-yoon didn’t answer.
He simply watched.
His pupils remained steady.
Kuroda’s breath caught—sharp and barely perceptible.
No one else noticed.
But Do-yoon saw it.
Kuroda’s shoulders had gone rigid.
The loose, swaggering frame froze for just an instant.
The reaction of a beast recognizing a larger beast.
Instinctive fear.
Kuroda laughed louder to mask it.
But it was too late.
Do-yoon’s mouth curved up the barest fraction.
Not quite a smile.
More like the glimpse of fangs before a strike.
Do-yoon stepped closer still.
Their foreheads nearly touched.
Staff members tensed and moved forward.
Do-yoon spoke low—audible only to Kuroda.
“Get your will in order.”
Kuroda’s pupils wavered.
Just for an instant.
But unmistakably.
Click! Click! Click!
Flashes erupted.
The announcer rushed to intervene.
“That’s all, both fighters!”
Staff members moved between them.
Kuroda stepped back.
His face still wore a smile.
But his eyes told a different story.
Panic.
Rage.
And barely concealed dread.
Kang Do-yoon stood motionless.
He didn’t move.
He simply watched Kuroda to the very end.
Like a predator that never loses sight of its prey.
Cameras cut between their two faces.
The man whose mouth had crossed the line.
And the man who would exact the price for it inside the Cage.
Flash after flash erupted across the Belt.
Tomorrow.
The Korea-Japan showdown begins to spill blood.

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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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