In the 90s, you could acquire max-level skills every 14 days.

Li Guilan rushed to the entrance of the audience seating area, but was stopped by two staff members wearing red armbands.

"Comrade, the athletes' entrance is over there; the spectators enter from here."

"My son is inside!"

"Which contestant is your son?"

"Zhang Yong! Red Team!"

The staff members exchanged a glance and stepped aside to make way.

"Then please enter from the left. There are empty seats in the third row. Don't get too close to the stage."

Sun Lei helped Li Guilan squeeze into the audience seats and found a seat near the front. There were about sixty or seventy people in the stadium, mostly coaches and students from sports schools in various districts, with a few middle-aged people who looked like family members.

As soon as Li Guilan sat down, she saw a person standing in the blue team tunnel opposite the boxing ring.

He was a burly bald man with an old, centipede-like scar on his neck. His arms were thicker than Zhang Yong's thighs, and veins stretched from his forearms to his shoulders.

As soon as she looked at it, everything went black!

The audience on both sides couldn't help but start gossiping.

"That skinny kid on the red team, can he hold on?"

"That bald guy on the blue team also played a game in Shijingshan last year. I remember he ripped open his opponent's eye socket, and there was blood everywhere."

"Oh no, oh no, can the red team even withstand three hits...?"

Li Guilan felt like she couldn't breathe and could only clench her palms tightly.

clang--!

The sound of the gong faded.

Zhao Tiezhu didn't even make a gesture of respect with his hands clasped in greeting.

He delivered a swift and powerful hook punch straight at Zhang Yong's abdomen.

Zhang Yong dodged to the side, twisting his upper body slightly to the right.

Zhao Tiezhu's punch grazed the outer edge of the protective gear, but the glove still rubbed against his old rib injury.

A burning pain shot up from my ribs, like being poked with a red-hot iron bar.

Zhang Yong could only grit his teeth and take half a step back.

He cannot let the other party see his weaknesses!

Zhao Tiezhu gave him no chance to catch his breath.

As soon as he pulled his fist back, he threw a jab, followed by several more punches.

Each punch seemed weak, but each one was testing Zhang Yong's defensive weaknesses.

Just as Zhang Yong felt he had recovered, the opponent's tactics changed again.

It's not a fist.

It's the elbow.

Zhao Tiezhu's right elbow suddenly thrust out from under the cover of a jab, aiming straight for Zhang Yong's throat.

Zhang Yong's mind was racing with the [Driving Lv.6: Environmental Awareness] indicator. In that instant, he caught the trajectory of the elbow tip... three centimeters to the left, and fifteen degrees upward.

He tucked his chin tightly into his collarbone and crossed his arms to protect his head and neck.

The elbow struck his forearm, and his entire arm went numb.

"good--!"

"Zhao Tiezhu! Go for it! Hit him!"

"Well done, Blue Team!"

A burst of cheers erupted from the audience, all for the blue team.

Li Guilan covered her eyes tightly with her hands, tears streaming out from between her fingers uncontrollably.

Sun Lei stood up, gripping the back of the iron chair in front of him tightly with both hands, and shouted at the top of his lungs.

"Go Red Team! Go Zhang Yong!"

His lonely voice was drowned out by the noise, like a pebble thrown into the sea.

On the stage.

Zhao Tiezhu's offensive continued without any pause.

Jab, hook, uppercut, knee strike.

Every attack he made was driven by the desire to beat someone to death.

He didn't treat this as a competition at all; it was just his playground!

Zhang Yong's vision was blurred by sweat and the bloodstains left by his headgear.

He could feel his back slam heavily against the ropes, which snapped back half a foot.

The entire audience held their breath.

Yang Cheng clenched his fists in the audience, his nails digging into his flesh.

"Hold on... hold on..."

Zhang Yong held on.

He could only use the most basic method now, protecting his head with his arms, but each block consumed his strength, and each hit aggravated his pain.

But something was pounding wildly in his head.

[Fighting Lv.4: Progress 97%...98%...99%...]

Under Zhao Tiezhu's relentless pressure, the system's experience points skyrocketed at a visible rate.

His nerves were recording every punch that came his way.

Punching style, point of force, weight transfer, breathing rhythm.

Everything transformed into a torrent of knowledge that surged into his mind.

Zhao Tiezhu fought for nearly two minutes, then suddenly took a half step back.

He spat out his mouthguard and onto the ground.

A cruel smile appeared on his face.

"Still not down? Not bad, kid!"

His right fist slowly pulled back to his ear, his whole body like a fully drawn bow.

Gathering strength.

The target is Zhang Yong's temple.

Li Guilan's hand slid off her eyes, and she slumped into the iron chair, her hands clasped together, her lips trembling, as if she were begging someone.

Coach Yang Cheng, watching from the sidelines, couldn't help but shout, "That move is illegal! Referee! Referee!"

Someone in the audience gasped in surprise.

"That punch could kill someone!"

But it seems it's too late!

Zhang Yong leaned against the ropes, his vision blurred.

He saw it.

The third row. That's his mother, Li Guilan.

He clasped his hands together, his face covered in tears.

My mind went blank.

The screen shattered.

This isn't the scene. It's another one.

It's a tropical rainforest. It's in some unknown mountain valley in Southeast Asia.

In his past life, his mother was wearing a floral shirt soaked through by the rain. She was barefoot and running towards him through the mud, her mouth open, shouting something, but he couldn't hear her.

Then came the ward.

Grandpa lay on a bed in Beijing's 301 Hospital, his cold body lying there quietly. People were carefully combing his hair and tidying his appearance. A white sheet covered his body.

He held his grandfather's belongings in his hands, staring blankly through the glass, feeling only a chill run through his body.

The two images overlapped, then shattered.

All that was left in front of him was a fist.

Zhao Tiezhu's right fist, whistling through the air, slammed towards his temple.

[Fighting Lv.4: Progress 99% - Breakthrough!]

[Fighting Lv.5: Progress 1%...]

The world has slowed down.

It wasn't that he was actually slow; rather, his neural processing speed was pulled to a completely new level in that instant.

Zhao Tiezhu's fist was no longer a blurry afterimage in his eyes.

He saw it clearly.

The angle of the fist, the internal rotation of the wrist, the direction of force from the scapula, and the opponent's center of gravity!

Zhao Tiezhu gathered all his strength for this punch, moved his right foot forward half a step, and put all his weight on the ball of his foot.

The left rib is fully exposed.

Zhang Yong ducked to avoid it.

We dived directly.

He was like a bent spring, twisting his waist and hips, his center of gravity bouncing off the ropes.

Zhao Tiezhu's fist whistled past his head, the wind it generated scattering the sweat on his forehead.

Zhao Tiezhu missed his target, and his body was propelled forward by half a step due to inertia.

It's just this small step.

Zhang Yong pushed off the ground with his right foot, and his waist and hips suddenly twisted as if he were tightening a bolt. All the power flowed from the soles of his feet to his waist, from his waist to his shoulders, and from his shoulders into his right arm.

He used all his strength, a right hook!

The fist slammed solidly into Zhao Tiezhu's left ribcage below the ribcage!

……