Super Fighting Tokyo.

Chapter 420 Never Get Tired

Muhammad Ali —

Having lived for over sixty years, he has endured countless injuries and torments, and is now plagued by serious illnesses such as Parkinson's disease. Previously, he even had difficulty speaking.

Just how much time did this person dedicate, and how much blood and sweat did he shed during that time?

In that palm strike, even more powerful than the one before, the answer was laid bare!

"..."

The crowd outside watched intently.

In the ward.

Little Ali struggled to his feet, panting heavily, and said, "That last move made me realize how amazing you are, Father..."

Upon hearing this, Old Ali was somewhat pleased.

He raised his muscular left arm, showing off the muscles in it, then helplessly pinched his abdomen, revealing some soft fat.

"I'm not at my peak right now; I'm still a long way from being able to fight fifteen rounds."

"but……"

Old Ali then changed the subject, "To teach you a lesson is more than enough... Ready?"

"Fight!"

Swish!

Before he finished speaking, Old Ali strode forward.

Compared to Little Ali's pace, Old Ali appears more robust and solid, like a streamlined tank charging across the battlefield!

call out!

He quickly threw a left jab, which Ali dodged with a V-shaped movement.

He immediately followed up with a right straight punch.

Little Ali spotted an opening, dodged Old Ali's punch, and then swung his right jab forward with a "whoosh," aiming straight for Old Ali's jaw.

But something unexpected happened—

Old Ali swung his left arm, but instead of throwing a punch, he slapped Little Ali across the right cheek with his palm, producing a crisp sound.

Snapped! !

Little Ali staggered from the blow, his eyes glazed over.

Old Ali immediately stepped forward and slammed his right palm forward, striking Little Ali in the face and sending him flying backward.

The nosebleed that had stopped was spurted out again by this slap, and even the splint that had been bandaged broke.

Pfft!

Little Ali leaned back and fell to the ground with a thud, his whole body trembling with pain.

It wasn't that he couldn't react; it was just that his mind was too chaotic after a series of defeats, and he overthought things when responding to the attack, leading to one mistake after another.

……

……

outside the ward.

Yingchu couldn't help but exclaim in surprise, "Heh, to actually see the greatest boxer use a 'pushing palm' technique? Did he give up boxing in order to win?"

"……Do not."

The Ten Demon Snake King Horse shook his head.

Yingchu wasn't a fighter after all, so it was normal for him to misunderstand, but Wangma and Shiraki saw it clearly.

"What Ali used was neither boxing nor palm strikes, but technique!"

"It's a technique that incorporates boxing, palm strikes, footwork, and willpower!"

"..."

Shiramu Cheng added, "In other words, the 'Ari-ryu' style of martial arts is a martial art that can be continuously improved even by people over sixty years old, despite suffering from multiple illnesses!"

……

……

As everyone was talking—

squeak.

Little Ali, leaning against the bed frame beside him, struggled to his feet, his movements trembling.

At the same time, Old Ali approached step by step and threw a left punch at Little Ali's head.

Whoosh!

Little Ali dodged by tilting his head, and retaliated with left and right swings, but Old Ali dodged them both by leaning back.

Old Ali seized the opening in front of his son, and with a left palm strike, pressed down on Little Ali's face, slamming his head against the wall behind him.

boom!

A muffled thud came from the wall of the ward.

Little Ali was thrown forward, only to be followed by a powerful punch from Old Ali that landed squarely on his face, causing his skin and eyelids to flip over.

boom!

This caused Xiao Ali to spit blood from his mouth and nose, his eyes to go completely glazed over, and he finally collapsed to the ground, unable to stand up.

poof...

This was an incredibly shocking scene.

Facing his own father, Ali Jr., who should have been faster, stronger, and superior in every way, ultimately lost.

"..."

Looking at his son lying on the ground, old Ali squatted down and sighed softly.

"Too young, and too slow."

"And how weak they are..."

"--it's over."

……

……

The battle is over, and the victor is decided.

Old Ali silently stood up, but his expression was somewhat puzzled, because he had already arranged for bodyguards to come and clean up the mess after the battle.

But now, even though he had already spoken, there was no response from the ward door.

Is something the matter?

"..."

indeed.

The five tall, suited bodyguards were standing at the corner not far away, silently watching the people peeking in from outside the door.

What should we do? Should we go and disturb them?

Mr. Ali's friend was among those spying on him. Wouldn't that be embarrassing?

I should have stopped it from the beginning...

"..."

In the end, it was Old Ali who took the initiative to go outside and saw the crowd outside—

Shiraki Sei, Ohma, Yamashita Kazuo, Eiichi, Yoshizawa Kokomi.

"I see. Was the fight too loud? Sorry."

As he spoke, Old Ali smiled and beckoned to his bodyguards in the distance, "Put my son on the hospital bed, and then put the ward back to normal."

The bodyguards were relieved. "Yes, sir."

……

……

Before we knew it, it was already dark and night had fallen.

The tea room on the top floor of the hospital.

The five people who were spying, along with Old Ali, were having tea and chatting.

As a fan, Kazuo Yamashita was still a little nervous in front of his idol and couldn't sit still. His eyes kept sizing up Old Ali.

Old Ali nodded and smiled.

Without a second thought, Yamashita Kazuo exclaimed from the bottom of his heart, "It's truly amazing that you can continue fighting with this body..."

As soon as he said it, Yamashita Kazuo felt he had been offended and quickly explained.

"Oh, it's not that you're unwell, but that's what the news reports say, that you have Parkinson's or something... I'm so sorry!"

"..."

Old Ali didn't care.

After all, those are facts, even proof of his struggles all the way to the present. Denying them for the sake of saving face would be a desecration.

"It's nothing special, just keep fighting."

Old Ali took a sip of tea. "—I will never get tired of that kind of thing, no matter when."

"I wonder what my son is thinking?"