The Genius Hitter Who Conquered America - Chapter 131

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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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Chapter 131
Returning to the Underground Research Laboratory, Soo-ho immediately stepped into the Batter’s Box.
I discarded all the complex mechanical formulas and obsession with perfect angles that had cluttered my mind straight into the trash.
‘Don’t force your body to match the answer. Find the answer from the most comfortable stance.’
That clear revelation Ethan had casually thrown my way.
To make it completely my own.
Before swinging the bat, there was one fundamental thing Soo-ho needed to check first.
The most basic starting point of a swing and the framework that gathered power.
It was the position of the two feet standing in the Batter’s Box—the stance.
In baseball, a batter’s stance is broadly divided into three types depending on the position of both feet.
Holding the bat lightly, Soo-ho first attempted the first stance facing the Pitcher’s Mound.
‘Square stance.’
The most orthodox and textbook position.
Both feet are placed parallel to Home Plate.
The advantages are clear.
‘The body’s balance doesn’t lean to one side, making it the most stable in the Batter’s Box, and it’s easy to transfer weight straight toward the pitcher.’
But there are drawbacks as well. Being unremarkable also means having no standout advantages.
When dealing with extreme pitches—balls diving deep inside or sharp sliders breaking away outside—there can be subtle restrictions on the body’s rotational range.
Soo-ho tensed his lower body slightly in the square stance to gauge the comfort, then
soon shifted his stance by pulling his front foot, his right foot, slightly toward First Base instead of toward the pitcher.
‘Second. Open stance.’
A position where the body is slightly open toward the pitcher.
‘The greatest advantage of this stance is sight line.’
Facing the pitcher head-on, both eyes can track the pitcher’s fingertips and the ball’s trajectory fastest and most clearly.
It specializes in handling 100-mile fastballs diving inside and pulling the ball.
Conversely, the fatal weakness is handling outside pitches.
Since the body is already open, the probability of the bat missing or whiffing on breaking balls like sliders that escape outside increases exponentially.
There’s also a delicate timing battle needed—closing the front foot back toward Home Plate when making contact.
Finally, Soo-ho pulled the open front foot he’d been holding back tight toward Home Plate.
‘Third. Closed stance.’
The exact opposite concept of open stance.
The front foot is tucked toward Home Plate, so the batter’s body is closed.
The advantage is clear—overwhelming dominance over outside pitches.
With the front shoulder covering Home Plate, it achieves maximum efficiency in pushing outside pitches from the pitcher.
‘And there’s also strength in power hitting.’
But the drawback is a cramped field of vision.
You must turn your head completely toward the pitcher just to see the ball.
When a fastball flies deep inside, the closed body leaves little space for the bat to emerge, leaving you helpless against it.
Square, open, closed.
Since my days in Korea, I had adjusted my stance slightly depending on the situation when stepping into the Batter’s Box.
But to fully bloom his hitting prowess on the Major League stage—a realm of monsters—he had to make one decisive choice among these three.
There was no way around it.
“The most comfortable for me is… this.”
Soo-ho’s feet aligned perfectly parallel to Home Plate.
A square stance.
The most textbook, most balanced posture.
But in baseball, balance meant something else entirely—it meant having not a single fatal weakness.
Unlike open or closed stances, which sacrificed certain zones to gain extreme strength in others, the square stance was different.
It provided perfect equilibrium, allowing him to attack every corner of the Strike Zone with equal proficiency.
Contact, power, and batting vision alike.
Soo-ho had always craved the pinnacle of versatility at the plate.
This balanced foundation, tilted toward neither extreme and capable of handling any situation—
it was the perfect garment that fit his vision of completeness.
‘Hah. It was this simple all along.’
Soo-ho let out a hollow laugh, twirling his bat lightly.
Ethan’s blunt advice had cleared his cluttered mind in an instant.
He’d been forcing his body into Alex’s flawless biomechanical formula, and in doing so—
even his most fundamental, most natural stance had begun to creak and groan.
‘Why couldn’t I approach this simply from the start?’
Self-reproach flickered for a moment, but Soo-ho shook his head and ruthlessly swept the thought away.
There was nothing more foolish than clinging to the past and drowning in regret.
Rather than waste energy on such useless emotions—
it was far wiser and more profitable to seize the hint before him now and advance to the next stage.
That was how he’d survived and endured in that brutal abyss without breaking.
‘Good. The stance is locked in.’
With his square stance firmly planted, feet parallel to Home Plate, Soo-ho immediately moved to the next phase.
‘I’ve built the lower body’s foundation. Now it’s time to find comfort in the upper body.’
They say a genius understands ten things from one lesson?
Once the blockage cleared, everything flowed effortlessly.
The position and angle of his two hands gripping the bat.
In the past, Soo-ho had raised his hands high beside his ears, pouring strength into them—
adopting what was called a high hand position.
But the moment he took that stance, his chest and shoulder muscles pulled taut, creating unnecessary tension.
‘Release the tension. Find comfort.’
Soo-ho dropped his hands from beside his ears down below his shoulder line.
He tilted the bat’s head back slightly instead of holding it rigidly upright.
Instantly, the forced tension that had gripped his shoulders and wrists vanished like a lie.
Relaxed, as if surrendering to gravity itself—
yet he’d found the ideal loaded position, where the bat could burst forward along the shortest possible path at any moment.
“Perfect. The fundamentals of upper and lower body are complete. Now for real game timing.”
I nodded toward the screen.
The virtual pitcher within the screen began his wind-up.
A baseball hurtled through the opening at ferocious velocity.
Whoosh!
I instinctively reverted to my old habit, lifting my front leg in a leg kick as I rotated the bat.
Swish!
The result was a futile whiff.
The ball had long since passed the catcher’s glove and embedded itself in the net.
Yet instead of panic, my face blazed with unmistakable certainty.
I had painfully grasped why my swing had been late.
‘The leg kick… it throws off my timing against Major League pitchers’ fastballs.’
I reset my stance in the Batter’s Box.
And the moment the second 100-mile fastball came screaming in.
Instead of lifting my leg high.
I drew my knees together slightly, compressing my power firmly into my lower body.
During my time in the United States refining my swing, this method had proven most natural to me.
And with the tip of my front foot, I tapped the ground lightly.
A crisp toe-tap to lock in my timing.
With the cumbersome preparatory motion completely eliminated, the bat’s velocity became ruthlessly faster than ever before.
Crack!
A thunderous contact that seemed to shake the Underground Research Laboratory itself.
“Ahhhh…”
I lowered the bat slowly, savoring the electric sensation still tingling through both hands.
After three days of agonizing struggle, I had finally discovered the perfect answer.
A stable square stance capable of handling any pitch location.
Relaxed hands dropped naturally below my shoulders, stripped of all unnecessary tension.
And a crisp toe-tap that matched the timing of Major League fastballs without a single millisecond of hesitation.
To others, I might have appeared merely slouched at the plate.
But this was no laziness—it was the most lethal composure of a predator before the explosion, every muscle coiled and ready, eyes locked on prey.
This streamlined batting form, stripped of all excess, would capture contact, power, speed, and pitch recognition all at once.
When I thought about it, it was truly remarkable.
The old me could never afford expensive private coaching.
I had merely stolen glimpses of how others swung, forcing my body into shapes that didn’t fit.
No one had ever taught me proper batting tailored to my physique and characteristics.
Wearing an ill-fitting, suffocating old garment meant for someone else’s frame.
Yet even under those brutal conditions, I had clawed my way relentlessly through every limit to crack the Dodgers’ 40-Man Roster.
But now.
For the first time since I began playing baseball.
I possessed a batting form perfectly tailored for me alone.
A true swing that could channel 100 percent of my explosive power.
A player who had been called a monster despite wielding a form as ill-fitting as shackles.
Now held a truly optimized weapon in his hands.
This was no longer a dimension that a prospect or Minor League player could handle.
The approaching Spring Training.
Against the formidable monsters of the Major League, just how catastrophic a calamity would Soo-ho, who had sprouted real wings for the first time in his life, become?
The ultimate batting form perfected in this Underground Research Laboratory was the perfect prelude to that overwhelming display of force.
* * *
Meanwhile, elsewhere.
Crack!
At a massive ball-strike sound as if it would shatter the thick concrete walls of the Underground Research Laboratory entirely,
“…Insane.”
Alex’s jaw dropped as he watched through the monitor.
Ethan, who had been leaning against the wall watching with interest, also snapped his eyes wide open and straightened his upper body like a spring.
The exact same chill ran down both their spines simultaneously.
This was truly a swing that defied common sense.
Just minutes ago, Soo-ho had been flailing about unable to find a form that suited him, repeatedly missing pitches.
Yet the moment he heard Ethan’s blunt hint,
in less than ten minutes at the Batter’s Box, he had immediately extracted the answer that fit perfectly to his body.
“What exactly did you do to him?”
Alex’s question was valid.
They had gone out together and returned, and Soo-ho had changed.
“I didn’t do anything.”
Ethan’s expression was one of grievance.
It was genuinely that emotion too.
It couldn’t have been otherwise.
‘This guy… he’s really going to cause an enormous uproar.’
A rare breed on this American stage, and he even possessed talent.
At least, he’d never seen this type in this country before.
To be precise, talented guys were plentiful, so the emphasis fell more on the rare breed aspect.
‘I’m curious about what comes next.’
How much better he would perform.
What kind of performance he would display when facing the world’s greatest players.
‘Wait. Wait. Is this threatening my position?’
Yet despite his thoughts, Ethan was smiling.
A guy like that as a teammate?
His baseball life ahead seemed like it would be fun.

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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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