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墨書 Inktalez
"Ding——!"
As the bell rang, Subobo shot forward like an arrow released from a bow. His legs moved rapidly, embodying the explosive power characteristic of a Fighter. With his fists raised high and his body leaning forward, he concentrated all his strength in his upper body. His attack came without warning, yet it was incredibly swift.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Subobo unleashed a series of heavy punches, each one quick and powerful. The trajectory of his strikes was clear, with his fists precisely targeting his opponent's head and chest. His movements were clean and efficient, devoid of any unnecessary flair, showcasing that his professional background was well-earned. Each punch generated a fierce wind that conveyed the intensity and determination behind his assault.
The audience held their breath as the wind from the punches howled in the ring. A sinister grin spread across Subobo's face, confidence surging like a tidal wave, his eyes gleaming with pride: "This guy is no match for me!"
Subobo's onslaught intensified, each punch carrying an overwhelming sense of pressure, gradually forcing his opponent into the corner of the ring. The dark-skinned man remained on the defensive, not throwing any punches or attempting to counterattack, as if he were at a disadvantage.
"Bang!"
With a heavy right punch, the man stepped back, his back now pressed against the ropes of the corner. He remained silent, standing there like a beast waiting for its moment to strike.
The crowd erupted in excitement; some shouted, "Subobo, finish him off!"
"That guy is nothing!"
A satisfied smile crept onto Subobo's lips. He knew this was his moment to seal the deal. He swiftly threw a straight punch aimed directly at his opponent's face, his fist carrying the force to shatter defenses.
Just as his fist was about to make contact, an unexpected turn of events occurred!
The man suddenly executed an incredible low dodge, moving with a fluidity that resembled flowing water. His figure vanished like a shadow just before the punch reached him, evading the heavy blow.
"What—!"
Subobo stared in shock, his eyes wide open. He never expected that his opponent could escape under such circumstances. What astonished him even more was that the man not only dodged successfully but also moved quickly in that instant, completely leaving the corner and returning to the center of the Ring with astonishing speed.
With no target left, Subobo's fist, fueled by all his strength, slammed hard against one of the Ring's pillars.
"Bang!"
A deafening crash echoed as Subobo's fist sank deep into the wood of the pillar, leaving a fist-sized imprint on the hard surface. Cracks even spread outward along the pillar, creating a scene that left everyone speechless.
The audience below fell silent in an instant, as if they were completely stunned by this spectacle. After a few seconds, murmurs began to rise—
"My God, what just happened? How did he dodge that?"
"That pillar has cracks… Is that really a human fist?"
Subobo stood frozen in place, his fist still lodged in the pillar. His expression shifted from smugness to disbelief in an instant; his mouth slightly agape as if he wanted to say something but found himself at a loss for words. He turned around, his gaze fixed on the man in the center of the Ring.
The dark-skinned man stood there with his hands slightly raised, the Gloves reflecting a cold light under the arena lights. His face bore no extra expression; only his deep-set eyes, dark as night, coldly regarded Subobo.
Below the Ring, discussions among the audience surged like a tide, each person shocked by Subobo's recent punch. Some pointed at the Fist Seal on the pillar with wide eyes and skepticism in their voices: "How could his fist leave such a mark? Is this something a human can do?"
"It’s definitely another one of his old tricks!" shouted an audience member in the front row, waving his arms and appearing extremely agitated. "He’s done this kind of thing before; maybe he stuffed cement blocks or stones in those Gloves!"
"Exactly! Referee, go check his gloves!" another person chimed in, their voice rising as if trying to drown out the crowd.
As these accusations rang out, more and more people began to stand up, shouting at the Ring and accusing Subobo of cheating. Discontented whistles and mocking laughter echoed through the crowd.
The referee hesitated for a moment upon hearing the crowd's calls, then cautiously approached Subobo, trying to inspect his gloves. Just then, the dark-skinned man in the center of the ring spoke up.
"No need to check." His voice was deep and cold, yet carried an undeniable authority that instantly silenced the raucous venue. His gaze remained fixed on Subobo, his tone eerily calm: "I don't care what he has stuffed in those gloves."
The referee paused, confusion etched on his face as he looked at the man. "But..."
The man slightly raised his head, his icy stare sweeping over the referee like an invisible blade. "This is a life-and-death contest; preparing for one's own survival is necessary."
A simple statement that plunged the entire arena back into an eerie silence. The previously loud spectators seemed suddenly muted by his words, exchanging glances and whispering softly, too intimidated to shout.
The chill in his words made the air around them feel heavy. Li Luo sat in his chair beneath the ring, brow furrowed, looking at the man with a complex expression. He had never heard such words before; this nonchalant attitude towards life and death sent a shiver down his spine.
Subobo's previously relaxed demeanor stiffened upon hearing this statement. The corners of his mouth twitched slightly, and his clenched fists instinctively loosened and tightened again, as if reacting with primal fear to those words.
He gritted his teeth and forced himself to sound composed as he scoffed, "Hmph, don’t act so serious. This is just a match, not a life-or-death duel!"
Yet he couldn't bring himself to meet the man's gaze. The dark-skinned man remained silent, slightly raising his hand to lightly tap his gloves, producing a low sound that seemed to silently warn Subobo.
At that moment, the audience erupted once more, but this time it was filled with hushed whispers and speculations about the mysterious man. They began to realize that this confrontation was no ordinary match; the oppressive aura surrounding that man was steering this contest toward an unknown direction.
Subobo pressed his lips together tightly, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as alarm bells rang in his mind. He instinctively sensed that this man was far more dangerous than he had imagined, and this match was likely far from the simplicity he had anticipated.
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