I Thought I Was Bullying a Nobody, But He's a Martial Arts Genius - Chapter 49

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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 Prodigy Unaware of His Own Genius, Bullied — Episode 049
An hour after the weigh-in ceremony ended.
Every Korean sports outlet was plastered with the same photograph.

The two men in the photograph stood face to face, inches apart.
Kuroda was smiling.
But his eyes were wavering.
Do-yoon was not smiling.
He was simply looking down at him.
That single frame said everything.
The Japanese articles were no different.

But Korean fans’ attention zeroed in on one sentence.

Words Do-yoon had spoken softly, only to Kuroda.
The ringside reporter had read his lips and spread the story.
A short clip came with it.
The moment Kuroda’s shoulders tensed.
The moment Do-yoon’s gaze turned ice-cold.
Followed by a burst of camera flashes.
The video title was sensational.

View counts skyrocketed.
The YouTube live comment section exploded.
-Wow, Coach Do-yoon’s presence is insane. Did you see Kuroda flinch from the pressure?
-Was that really “write your will” from his lips? Crazy ㅋㅋㅋ
-Time to teach that far-right attention-seeker a lesson!!!
-If the judges go against us in enemy territory, we absolutely need a knockout
-Kuroda’s record is 18 wins, 1 loss? But the way Do-yoon was looking at him, like he was just prey
-Do-yoon usually doesn’t talk much, so if he’s saying stuff like that, he’s genuinely pissed
-That so-called third-rate Korean fighter going rigid in the face-off first is legendary
-Please smash his jaw
The fighting community forums were even more blunt.
Posts flooded in by the second.

The comments were heated.
-His fighting ability I’ll grant, but his character is completely wrecked
-Wearing a pattern that evokes the rising sun flag and disrespecting Korea? This isn’t sport, it’s provocation
-If Kuroda gets the judges’ decision, he’ll create another sympathy narrative. We absolutely have to put him down
-Given Do-yoon’s style, I don’t think this goes to decision
-The man who breaks jaws? Today he’d better protect his own first
Japanese fans responded too.
Some rallied behind Kuroda.
Some criticized him for crossing the line.
But the controversy only fanned the flames.
Korea-Japan Match.
Provisional champion title fight.
A far-right fighter’s provocation.
A Korean veteran’s comeback bout.
Every element for a blockbuster had converged in one place.
Sports news ran the same footage all day long.
Do-yoon’s eyes.
Kuroda’s shoulders.
That single moment of silence.
[This is no ordinary title match.]
The anchor’s voice cut through.
[The Asia Continental Cup Light-weight Provisional Champion Belt hangs in the balance, and with it, the pride of both nations’ fighting communities.]
The expert panel chose their words carefully.
[Kuroda is formidable. You can’t approach this emotionally. He’s a hard puncher, an all-rounder, and dangerous once he gets his hands on you.]
Another panelist countered.
[But Kang Do-yoon is ranked number two in the Continental Cup standings. It’s his comeback fight after a long absence, but his class is beyond question.]
The screen cut back to the face-off.
Kuroda’s sneer.
Do-yoon’s blank expression.
And the shape of his lips.

The caption struck the screen.
Viewership spiked in an instant.
Real-time search rankings shifted.
1st: Kang Do-yoon
2nd: Kuroda
3rd: Asia Continental Cup
4th: Write your will properly
5th: Light-weight Provisional Title
The match tickets had sold out days ago.
Online streaming reservations exceeded the all-time high for any Korean fighter’s Continental Cup bout.
Even notices about cracking down on illegal broadcasts went live.
Everyone had been waiting for this.
For Kuroda to finally shut his mouth.
To see how Do-yoon would tear into him.

* * *
Tae-su chuckled as he scrolled through the comments.
“The whole nation’s waiting for this, huh?”
A-yeon checked the reservation numbers on her tablet.
“Record-breaking numbers.”
Seo-jun studied Do-yoon’s face on screen.
It was just a photograph, yet it radiated such pressure.
That’s when Do-yoon emerged from the back.
A towel draped across his shoulders.
“Why are you all staring like that?”
Tae-su spoke up immediately.
“Coach, you’re trending number one right now.”
Do-yoon reached for his gloves, indifferent to the news.
“Did that make Kuroda’s jaw harder?”
Tae-su swallowed his laugh.
Do-yoon walked toward the Octagon.
His eyes had already gone cold.
“Keep training.”
He cinched his bandages tight.
“Tomorrow I’ll show him with my fists, not words.”

* * *
Japan.
Asia Continental Cup Venue.
The ceiling of the waiting room hung low.
The walls felt foreign.
Japanese announcements echoed continuously from beyond the hallway.
[The Light-weight Provisional Title Match will begin shortly.]
The murmur of the crowd bled through the crack beneath the door.
Away.
A complete away match.
Yet the waiting room remained unshaken.
Hook.
Hook.
Kang Do-yoon was Shadow Boxing in the center of the room.
He appeared to be moving lightly.
But the air cracked under his strikes.
When his jab shot forward, his shoulders opened and closed in sharp succession.
As his Straight extended, the muscles across his back deepened with tension.
Each Hook he threw tightened his core like a coil.
His footwork was silent.
His upper body was razor-sharp.
There was no wasted motion in anything he did.
The Kang Do-yoon who grumbled around the gym most days was gone.
Ranked second on the Continental Cup.
Only a title contender existed now.
A-yeon checked her clipboard.
“Three warm-up rounds done. Breathing okay?”
Do-yoon answered, snapping out a punch.
“Good.”
Tae-su raised the Mitts.
“Going light.”
“If you’re going light, won’t your arms snap off?”
“Don’t joke around, sir. I’m nervous.”
Do-yoon let out a quiet laugh.
“Then hold tight.”
Thud!
Tae-su’s arms flew backward from the first strike.
Grunt!
Thud! Thud!
One-two.
A quick Hook.
Low kick feint, then body shot.
Tae-su’s feet slid back.
“You said light!”
“This is light.”
A-yeon cut in immediately.
“Tae-su, don’t let your arm angle die. You’ll hurt your wrist.”
“Noona, I don’t think it’s the wrist that’s the problem here.”
Seo-jun was standing nearby with Tape in hand.
When Do-yoon finished with the Mitts, Seo-jun approached.
“Let me check your wrists again.”
“Go ahead.”
Seo-jun gripped Do-yoon’s wrists.
He pressed his fingers across the taped surface.
There were no loose spots.
Everything was tight.
Do-yoon’s hands were hot.
Soon they would be inside the Octagon, striking Kuroda’s jaw.
Seo-jun wrapped fresh Tape around once more.
Click.
Click.
Outside the waiting room, a roar erupted.
It was the sound of the Japanese crowd.
A foreign tongue.
An unfamiliar scent.
Strange air.
But Team Juwok held their rhythm within it.
A-yeon handed him water.
Tae-su packed away the Mitts.
Seo-jun checked Do-yoon’s Glove laces.
Jin-hyuk stood leaning against the wall.
He said nothing, but his eyes were fixed on Kang Do-yoon.
The door opened.
A tournament staff member poked his head in.
“Kang Do-yoon. You’ll be moving in five minutes.”
A-yeon answered briefly in Japanese.
“Understood.”
The door closed.
The air grew heavier.
Kang Do-yoon turned his head once.
His neck cracked softly.
Then he called for Seo-jun.
“Hey, Seo-jun.”
Seo-jun stepped forward immediately.
“Yes.”
Kang Do-yoon tapped Seo-jun’s chest with his gloved fist.
Lightly.
But the weight behind it was unmistakable.
“Watch carefully.”
Seo-jun looked at him.
Kang Do-yoon’s eyes didn’t waver.
They were the same as they’d been at yesterday’s face-off.
Cold.
Clear.
Bestial.
“I’m going to break that bastard’s jaw and take the provisional title today.”
Tae-su swallowed hard.
A-yeon watched Kang Do-yoon silently.
Jin-hyuk’s lips curved upward just slightly.
Kang Do-yoon didn’t lift his fist from Seo-jun’s chest.
“When I wrap that belt around me,”
his voice dropped lower.
“then it’s your turn.”
Seo-jun’s hands slowly curled into fists.
Lee Seong-jun.
The champion.
The man who’d suffocated him just by standing across from him in the Octagon.
That face came back to him.
Kang Do-yoon spoke.
“Never fall behind.”
Those words drove into his chest.
Seo-jun didn’t lower his gaze.
He met Kang Do-yoon’s eyes directly.
“Yes.”
His voice was short.
But it was solid.
“I’ll watch carefully.”
Kang Do-yoon smirked.
“That’s right.”
A-yeon placed her hand on Kang Do-yoon’s shoulder.
“Finish it and come back.”
Tae-su extended his fist.
“Bring that belt home, sir.”
Jin-hyuk spoke tersely.
“Losing would be embarrassing.”
Kang Do-yoon laughed.
“Cocky bastard.”
He bumped his Gloves against everyone’s fists.
Thud.
Thud.
Thud.
His fist met Seo-jun’s one last time.
Tap.
The waiting room door opened again.
The staff member gestured.
“Let’s move.”
Kang Do-yoon stripped off his towel and hurled it onto the chair.
His torso gleamed under the lights.
Muscle carved sharp as a blade.
Blood pumping hot and fast.
A body primed for battle.
He walked toward the door.
Team Juwok followed in his wake.
The roar from beyond the corridor swelled louder.
Kang Do-yoon didn’t once look back.
Seo-jun walked behind that broad back.
Today was Do-yoon’s turn.
And next—
would be his own.

* * *
[Next fighter entering the Octagon.]
The stadium lights dimmed.
The ring announcer’s voice boomed through the ceiling.
[From Korea! Team Juwok!]
At the far end of the corridor.
Kang Do-yoon took his first step.
Behind him came A-yeon, Tae-su, and Seo-jun.
Black hood pulled low.
Gloved fists clenched.
Not a trace of expression on his face.
[Asia Continental Cup Light-weight Ranking Number 2! Kang! Do! Yoon!]
The doors opened.
In that instant.
Booooooo—!
Jeers erupted like a deluge.
The sound threatened to shred his eardrums.
Fingers pointed at him from every direction.
Japanese spectators surged to their feet.
Whistles shrieked.
Laughter, cruel and mocking.
Profanity.
Incomprehensible words crashed over him in a tidal wave.
Enemy territory, complete and utter.
Away in the truest sense of the word.
Tae-su’s brow furrowed.
“Damn, it’s really vicious.”
A-yeon surveyed the crowd with a hardened gaze.
Seo-jun drew his breath shallow.
The jeers lashed at their skin.
But Kang Do-yoon didn’t hesitate.
Instead, he lifted his head higher.
The corner of his mouth curved upward.
As though he were hearing applause instead.
He spread both arms slowly, deliberately.
The jeers grew louder still.
Booooo—!
Kang Do-yoon let out a low chuckle.
“I like this.”
Tae-su stared at him, utterly bemused.
“Like what?”
“The noise makes it taste sweeter.”
Do-yoon’s pace slowed further.
Yet it seemed to shrink not at all.
He walked as a beast entering its cage.
Arrogant.
Glacial.
The Japanese spectators in the front rows stretched out their hands, hurling jeers.
Do-yoon turned his head toward them.
Their eyes met.
In that instant.
The man who’d been shouting loudest fell silent.
The spectator beside him flinched.
Do-yoon smiled.
A smile that showed no teeth.
But all the more menacing for it.
He turned back toward the Octagon.
Seo-jun watched his retreating figure and clenched his fists.
Even under the torrent of jeers, Do-yoon’s back never wavered.
If anything, it seemed to grow larger.
A back that trampled down the pressure of playing away.
The Octagon drew near.
Inside the chain-link fence, Kuroda was already waiting.
Back against the fence.
Chewing gum.
Bouncing his shoulders.
He watched Do-yoon with a predator’s focus.
A sneer curled at the corners of his mouth.
Do-yoon climbed the steps.
A staff member checked the Vaseline.
Mouthpiece.
Gloves.
Fingernails.
All procedures complete.
The Octagon gate swung open.
Click.
Do-yoon stepped inside.
In that moment, his eyes locked with Kuroda’s.
Kuroda’s mouth twisted.
Slowly, he raised his hand.
And with deliberate insolence, he extended his middle finger.
The crowd erupted.
Roooooaaaaaaaar!
The cameras captured that finger.
Sharp and clear beneath the red lights—a provocation made flesh.
The broadcast cut instantly to Do-yoon’s face.
Do-yoon simply watched.
No anger rose in him.
He didn’t shout.
Only smiled, cold as ice.
The corner of his mouth lifted, ever so slightly.
More threatening than Kuroda’s finger.
That smile carried more danger.
Outside the fence, Tae-su clenched his teeth.
“That bastard, really…….”
A-yeon spoke softly.
“Do-yoon has held back as long as he can.”
Seo-jun watched Do-yoon in silence.
The air inside the Octagon was beginning to shift.
The jeers.
The camera flashes.
Cameras.
Everyone else had stepped back.
What remained was only the eyes of two men.
One held a provocation that crossed the line.
The other held something else.
A killing intent, poised to crush bone itself.

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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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