Chapter 102: Crushing!

“Ready?” Iwa Matsuyama gave Tsukasa Aoki’s shoulder a firm squeeze. Aoki worked his mouthguard between his teeth, calmly flicked his hand, and nodded.

“Then let’s go!” Matsuyama pushed open the locker-room door.

Outside, a roaring wave of noise slammed into them. Under the watchful eyes of the other coaches and assistants, the packed crowd had been held back to form a corridor, and the people stared excitedly at Aoki, who was stepping out wearing nothing but shorts and gloves, sending up a shrill cheer.

“Whoa!”

“He looks terrifying...”

“Go for it!”

Aoki bounced lightly on the balls of his feet to loosen up, casually high-fived the spectators reaching toward him from both sides, and wore a faint smile that made him look utterly self-assured.

Entering the octagonal cage, he glanced at the crowd packed tightly outside it, waved to them, leaned against the railing, rolled his neck, and worked his mouthguard slowly as he watched his opponent make his way in.

“Death Spider! Go get him!” someone in the stands shouted.

The tall, thin man stepping into the cage grinned, waved back at the cheering crowd, then looked at Aoki, who had lowered his head and was watching him like a beast eyeing prey, and grinned again.

Death Spider lowered his head and loosened up his body, his eyes narrowing slightly. This bald guy... he looks vicious.

Still, Death Spider was a professional fighter. And the most basic requirement for a fighter was to overcome any uneasy feeling, focus completely, and beat the opponent down.

So he took a few deep breaths, lifted his head, and fixed his gaze on Aoki in a hard stare.

Aoki, chewing on his mouthguard, studied his opponent.

Height and reach were probably both a little better than his own, but strength should be somewhat lower. Aoki analyzed him coolly. Last time, this was the man who fought Ryu and controlled him on the ground, wasn’t he?

So his strength was on the ground?

Aoki grinned.

“The fighters are in position!” Matsuyama had changed into a black short-sleeved shirt. His thick, tattoo-covered arms were raised before him as he stood between Aoki and Death Spider, his expression stern. “No strikes to the groin. No strikes to the back of the head. Listen to the referee’s calls. Understood?”

Aoki and Death Spider both nodded.

“Ready... fight!” Matsuyama swept a big hand through the air and, without wasting another word, declared the match underway.

Aoki extended his right fist and tapped gloves with his opponent. Then the two of them separated, making small, agile adjustments with their feet, neither willing to commit to the first attack.

Death Spider was cautious because he did not know how strong his opponent truly was; he could only judge by Aoki’s tight, clearly defined muscles and the dangerous air around him.

Aoki, on the other hand, held back because he was at a height disadvantage and knew his opponent excelled on the ground. He did not want to rush straight into the pocket and give him a chance to drag the fight down.

They were at an impasse for a moment, and in the end, it was Aoki who attacked first.

Jab, jab. A pair of left jabs snapped into empty air. It was not that Aoki could not reach his target; he was using the feints to lure out a reaction.

“Got you!” Aoki’s eyes flew wide. The moment Death Spider shifted his base foot, he drove off his rear toe, lunged forward, rolled his shoulder through it, and unleashed a vicious right straight.

Among power punches, the right straight was especially dangerous: powerful, fast, and quick to land. With Aoki driving off his rear leg so hard, his whole body surged forward like a machine with a booster attached. By the time the crowd registered his movement, his right fist had already smashed into Death Spider’s high guard.

So close!

For an instant, Death Spider’s scalp tingled. He had barely reacted in time. When Aoki’s heavy punch slammed into his block, it felt as though a giant hammer had struck his forearm. After the stabbing pain came a strange trembling, and his arm seemed to lose all strength.

Seeing Aoki already close enough to threaten him directly, Death Spider’s experience told him that if he let this become a standing slugfest against a power puncher with excellent stand-up skills, he would never regain control.

So he dipped low at once, trying to use a leg trip to bring Aoki down.

Aoki did not panic at the grappling attempt. He merely let out a cold laugh and, in a tiny opening, snapped a short uppercut upward.

Because he had not fully set his weight, the punch did not carry all of Aoki’s power, but it was more than enough to terrify Death Spider, who had moved in for the clinch. He hurriedly tried to evade, yet the punch still clipped him.

Even though it landed only partially, a close-range uppercut like that was still immensely dangerous. Death Spider’s vision went black for a moment. Dazed and off-balance, he staggered back a few steps on instinct and found his retreat blocked by the cage’s steel mesh.

By the time he came to his senses again and the blurred figure before him sharpened into view, he saw the cold-eyed Aoki already charging straight toward his face.

“This kid...” Matsuyama, acting as referee, was practically stunned. As Aoki’s coach, how could he not know his technical level? Precisely because he knew, the sight was unbelievable. In just one day, his stand-up kickboxing had not merely improved by a step, but by leaps and bounds. That close-range, concealed uppercut alone—if he put himself in the opponent’s shoes, even he could not be absolutely certain of avoiding it. And the earlier jabs and straight right had been, in both rhythm and power, nothing short of perfect.

On instinct, Death Spider thrust out a leg, trying to buy enough space to clear the fog from his head.

But how could Aoki grant him that wish?

To the crowd’s thrilled and feverish cheers, Aoki leapt high. His right knee rose until it was nearly level with Death Spider’s face in midair. If that merciless flying knee landed, not even Death Spider would be able to stand, let alone a world champion.

Fortunately, the attack was too obvious, and Death Spider had just enough time to save his life. He twisted his head desperately while bringing both hands up to guard. The forearms of both arms collided violently with Aoki’s knee and gave off a ghastly crack.

“Was that a broken bone?!” the audience cried out, half horrified and half ecstatic.

Death Spider felt his left arm tearing with pain. Clenching his teeth against it, he grabbed Aoki tightly the moment Aoki dropped from the air and used all his strength to drag him toward himself.

As long as he could hold him, he could buy time. Enough time to recover.

Death Spider’s eyes were red with pain. He knew there was a good chance his arm had suffered a fracture. If he did not want to give in, then he absolutely could not let Aoki keep pressing.

This purse money wasn’t even enough to cover the hospital bill.

For an instant, Death Spider even began to think about surrendering.

Aoki did not know what his opponent was thinking. Whether from his coach’s teaching or from the lessons he had learned in his dream, the principle was the same: never stop attacking until the opponent is down.

So, at the very moment Death Spider tried to clamp down on him, Aoki began to struggle violently.