I Thought I Was Bullying a Nobody, But He's a Martial Arts Genius - Chapter 5

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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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Unaware He’s a Combat Genius, He Faces Bullying — Episode 5
The next day.
After school, Seo Jun pushed open the Gymnasium door with no hesitation in his step.
It was the same space as yesterday, yet the air felt different.
“Hello.”
“Oh, you came.”
Do Yoon and Ah Yeon sat side by side at the counter.
Seo Jun set down his bag and stood rigidly before them.
“I want to train seriously in combat sports.”
……
Seo Jun’s resolute declaration hung in the air.
Ah Yeon was the first to react.
Her brow narrowed.
“Seo Jun. You saw Do Yoon’s fight yesterday—you know this place is real war. Blood and all.”
“I understand.”
“You’re still a student. Learning self-defense as a hobby and the professional world are completely different things.”
It was genuine concern.
The Octagon was no place for a high school student who’d been taking beatings to stumble into carelessly.
But Seo Jun’s eyes did not waver.
‘I won’t back away.’
Then Do Yoon, who had been watching him silently, spoke.
“Go ahead, then.”
“Hey, Do Yoon!”
Ah Yeon bristled, but Do Yoon raised a hand to stop her.
His eyes sharpened like a predator’s as he fixed them on Seo Jun.
“But there’s a condition.”
“Tell me.”
“I’m not signing you to an Official Player Contract right now. Starting today, you follow the Professional Schedule I draw up for you.”
Do Yoon rose slowly from his seat.
“If you don’t show me the skill to convince me completely, you’ll never set foot near the Octagon again. Understood?”
“Yes. I’ll keep that in mind.”
His answer came without hesitation.
From that day on, Do Yoon became Seo Jun’s dedicated coach.

* * *
Hell’s gates had opened.
The training regimen Do Yoon scrawled on the Whiteboard was of a scale that tested the limits of human endurance.
‘Three times what I was doing before……’
The extreme Conditioning professional fighters endure before a bout.
Full sprint up the Treadmill at maximum incline.
Tire flips and Kettlebell swings poured on without rest.
“Hagh, huh……!”
His breath climbed to his throat, his lungs burning as though they might tear.
His vision flickered red.
His muscle fibers seemed to snap one by one—a horrific, exquisite agony.
“If you’re going to collapse after just this, pack your things and go home right now!”
Do Yoon’s sharp command echoed through the Gymnasium.
Even as Seo Jun crumpled to the floor, he clenched his teeth.
‘I don’t have to walk the path everyone else walks.’
His mother’s warm voice echoed like a phantom in his ears.
The laughter of the delinquents in the Alley who had trampled him.
And Do Yoon’s back, towering above the Octagon with overwhelming power.
‘If I quit here, I go back to that hellhole.’
Whoosh!
Seo Jun forced strength into his trembling legs and rose again.
He pushed through the ten sets of Circuit Training Do Yoon had prescribed.
Eleven sets. Twelve sets.
“Haah…… hah!”
Only after completing all fifteen sets did Seo Jun finally stop, sweat streaming down his face.
As Do Yoon watched him catch his breath in ragged gasps, a faint glimmer kindled behind his eyes.
‘That’s genuine tenacity right there.’
The resolve to shatter his own limits and push forward.
Do Yoon watched Seo Jun’s relentless training volume and his conviction solidified.

* * *
“Put on your Gloves.”
Right after conditioning finished.
Do Yoon slipped on Pads for both hands and climbed into the ring.
“Basic conditioning is something you’ll do every day from now on. Now I’m going to drill proper technique into you—the kind used on real people.”
Do Yoon raised his Guard and worked through his Footwork.
“Footwork is the beginning and end of combat. Plant your roots in the ground, and burn the distance of striking and retreating into your body.”
Seo Jun mimicked him, raising his Guard as well.
He tracked Do Yoon’s nimble foot movements as the man shifted forward, back, left, and right.
At first his Footwork tangled and he stumbled badly.
But after hundreds, then thousands of repetitions, a solid balance began to settle into Seo Jun’s lower body.
“One, two!”
Do Yoon called out the counts.
Seo Jun’s rear foot drove into the ground as his fist shot forward.
Thwack! Crack!
“Your hips are floating off the ground! Drive through while keeping your feet planted!”
Do Yoon’s sharp corrections came rapid-fire.
Beyond simple Light Straights now—Combination drills.
A one-two followed by a hook cutting toward the face.
Thwack! Thwack! Bang!
“Good. Now throw an Uppercut into the mix.”
Do Yoon angled the Pads downward.
In that instant, a memory flickered across Seo Jun’s mind—a scene from the Octagon.
The eerie arc of that Light Uppercut that had shattered Jang Hong’s jaw.
‘Drop the shoulder, rotate the hips….’
Whoosh!
Seo Jun’s lower body sank low, then sprang back up like a coiled spring.
His fist, weighted with perfect form, crashed into Do Yoon’s Pads.
Crack!
“Ugh!”
Do Yoon’s shoulder jerked sharply backward from the impact.
It was no mere imitation.
He’d grasped the principle perfectly and driven it home with precision.
“…You bastard.”
Do Yoon muttered under his breath, flexing his tingling wrist.

* * *
“Your fists are trained enough. Now we work on your legs.”
The next day.
Do Yoon stood before Seo Jun wearing Kick Pads.
“In Mixed Martial Arts, kicks are three times heavier and more devastating than punches.”
Whoosh! Bang!
The explanation was punctuated by Do Yoon’s leg cutting through the air.
A Low Kick driven into the Punching Bag.
Then a seamless rotation into a Middle Kick and High Kick Combination.
Bang! Boom! Crack!
Sharp as a whip, heavy as an axe—each arc brutal and precise.
To the untrained eye it was nothing but a blur, a phantom afterimage.
But Seo Jun’s eyes were different.
‘I see it all.’
That warped Dynamic Vision, honed by refusing to flinch from his father’s violence—trained by simply watching.
Do Yoon’s movements broke apart in Seo Jun’s sight like slow-motion film, each frame feeding directly into his mind.
‘The supporting foot at forty-five degrees. Hips open first, then the thigh pulls, and finally the knee extends.’
Muscle contraction, muscle release, the axis of weight transfer—all imprinted on his consciousness like transparent lines.
“You see that? For kicks, balance is——”
Do Yoon hadn’t finished speaking.
Seo Jun approached the Punching Bag without a word.
He replayed Do Yoon’s movements—recorded perfectly in his mind—through his own body.
He pivoted on his stance foot.
Opening his hips, he drove his weight forward.
Crack!
A heavy Low Kick struck the lower half of the bag.
Using the recoil, he immediately twisted his torso.
Bang!
Whack!
A Middle Kick and High Kick erupted in succession.
It was the flawless Combination Do Yoon had just demonstrated.
The bag swung wildly, nearly brushing the ceiling.
“…….”
Silence settled over the Gymnasium.
Seo Jun caught his breath and lowered his Guard.
Then he looked at Do Yoon, who stood frozen, holding the Pads.
“Coach. Did I do that right?”
Seo Jun’s question came out flat and measured.
Do Yoon’s pupils trembled wildly, as if struck by an earthquake.
Just once.
He’d seen the technique with his eyes a single time, and reproduced it with perfect balance.
‘What the hell is this guy?’
Do Yoon’s hands, gripping the Pads, trembled faintly.
In Do Yoon’s gaze fixed on Seo Jun, there bloomed an elation that transcended mere shock.
A battered high school student picked up off the street.
The kid was a real monster—beyond anything he could have imagined.

* * *
Mixed Martial Arts was fun.
Like all sports, the grueling foundational Conditioning was tedious and painful.
But the moment he learned a technique and drove a strike into the Punching Bag—the rush was intoxicating.
That electric sensation drove Seo Jun wild.
‘I can see it.’
Eyes he’d forced wide open to lessen the sting of blows.
That warped Dynamic Vision he’d thought was a curse turned out to be the ultimate weapon in Mixed Martial Arts.
The trajectory of each technique Do Yoon unleashed decomposed in his mind like slow-motion, burned into memory.
And the relentless Tenacity that seized him each dawn perfectly copied those movements into his flesh.
Thud! Crack! Smack!
“Nice. Your timing just then was perfect.”
“Huff, haa……!”
Do Yoon practically glued himself to Seo Jun, dedicating himself entirely to his training.
He held the Pads directly, corrected his posture, and ceaselessly etched striking techniques into his body.
How to plant his feet and channel his weight into a punch, how to read an opponent’s attack with his eyes and respond with a Combination.
Every aspect of training revolved intensely around Seo Jun.
And so a month passed in breathless intensity.
Whoosh! Bang!
“You worked hard. Now you’re starting to look like you know how to throw a punch.”
Do Yoon removed his Pads and chuckled softly, tapping Seo Jun’s shoulder.
A satisfied smile bloomed across Seo Jun’s face as he caught his breath.
Witnessing his own visible daily progress was an overwhelming experience.
But the peaceful atmosphere shattered with the voice of an unexpected visitor.
“Hey. Punching Bag.”
A mocking tone.
Turning his head, Seo Jun saw a boy standing beneath the Octagon with folded arms, glaring down at him.
Han Tae Soo.
A third-year high school student at the Gymnasium, a year older than Seo Jun.
The one who’d always trailed after Do Yoon, eyes shining with admiration.
“What, you think you’re something special because the coach held some Pads for you?”
Han Tae Soo’s glare dripped with undisguised jealousy.
His idol, Do Yoon, suddenly clinging entirely to this rootless nobody who’d wandered in from nowhere.
It seemed Han Tae Soo’s temper had been properly touched.
“I’m not sure what you mean.”
“Damn it, you won’t look at me? You little bastard.”
Han Tae Soo climbed roughly onto the ring and shoved hard against Seo Jun’s chest.
Thump.
Seo Jun staggered back half a step.
But his gaze remained steady, cold and composed.
‘I’m not the same as before.’
The old Seo Jun who could only take hits—he’d left that version of himself in the alley.
There was no reason left to avert his eyes or shrink before unjust violence or provocation.
Seo Jun planted his retreating foot firmly on the floor and met Han Tae Soo’s gaze directly, despite the other man’s larger frame.
“I’m looking.”
“What? Has this bastard lost his mind?”
The moment was tense, ready to snap.
Han Tae Soo’s face darkened with menace as he clenched his fists and raised them.
“Hey.”
A low, heavy voice.
Do Yoon, who had leaned against the ring, looked between them with a smirk.
The attitude of a bystander who wouldn’t intervene—and a peculiar interest flickered in Do Yoon’s eyes.
“If you two want to fight with your mouths, get out of the Gymnasium right now.”
Do Yoon tossed two pairs of 16 Ounce Sparring Gloves from the counter onto the ring with a thunk.
Tumble-tumble.
The thick, heavy Gloves rolled to the feet of Seo Jun and Han Tae Soo.
“What are you men doing without throwing punches? You two—Sparring. Now.”
Sparring.
At that word, Han Tae Soo’s lips twisted into a bitter smile.
It was a legitimate chance to crush this insolent junior. He picked up the Gloves from the floor without hesitation.
Seo Jun, too, gazed down silently at the red Gloves at his feet.
Thump-thump, thump-thump.
His heart began to pound wildly in his chest.
It was different from the survival instinct that kicked in when facing gang members in the Alley.
This was formal Sparring under rules in a Gymnasium—real and legitimate. Heat surged through his blood.
Seo Jun’s eyes burned fiercely, fixed on Han Tae Soo across the ring.
His first match was about to open its curtain here, on the ring.

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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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