The American TV series "Four-Round Boxing Champion Starts with Shameless"

Page 53

Apollo was waiting for him at the exit, his face bearing the expression of someone who knew the secret.

"You understand now?"

The former champion spoke softly, handing over a towel.

Millie, sitting in the audience, quickly jotted something down, her eyes gleaming with shrewdness: "This tournament is going to be interesting."

······

The training room lights were glaring and cold, reflecting a metallic sheen onto Apollo's sweaty skin—black was dominant at this moment.

He stood in the center of the room, his bandaged fists lightly touching each other, making a dull sound.

Rocky leaned against the wall in the corner, his brow furrowed, his gaze shifting back and forth between Apollo and the few people who had just entered.

Viktor was about the same height as him, but his shoulders were as broad as a wall, and he stood there silently like a mountain.

Miguel, on the other hand, was relatively thin, but his muscles were well-defined, and his eyes were sharp as an eagle's.

Tony walked to the small blackboard in the center of the room, which was already covered with Drago's game photos and data.

"We don't have much time,"

He tapped a close-up of Drago in the center of the blackboard with a marker: "Ivan Drago, the Soviets' 'perfect weapon.' Forged through drug and technological training, punching power test... 1850 pounds!"

"What kind of data is this?"

Victor was shocked. 1850 pounds!

That's over 800 kilograms!

Rocky whistled, "Good heavens, that's almost twice your size, Apollo. Fighting him is suicide!"

Apollo's lips twitched slightly, but he quickly regained his composure.

He stared at Drago's emotionless eyes in the photo, eyes that didn't seem human, but more like those of some kind of precision instrument.

"Victor will train your resilience with heavy punches,"

Tony continued, pointing to the giant, "His punching power is close to 1000 pounds. Although it's not as strong as Drago's, it's enough to get you used to that level of impact."

Then he turned to Miguel, “He will be in charge of your agility training. Drago is incredibly strong, but his speed is relatively slow, which is a weakness we can exploit.”

Viktor remained silent.

Apollo noticed that his knuckles were unusually large, as if they had been repeatedly broken and healed. This detail made his throat tighten.

"The first sparring session will begin this afternoon,"

Tony clapped his hands. "Apollo, you need to be mentally prepared. This will be tougher than any training you've ever had."

Chapter 43 Sparring and Butch at the Underground Boxing Gym

After lunch, the atmosphere in the training room became heavy.

The assistants added extra padding and placed additional ice buckets and towels around the area.

Apollo warmed up for a longer time, and his movements were more vigorous than usual, as if he were trying to dispel some kind of unease.

Are you sure you want to train like this?

Rocky whispered in his ear, "Not to mention Ivan Drago's 1850-pound punch, this guy's punch could easily break your ribs."

Apollo put on a specially made, thickened helmet and adjusted the strap under his chin. "If I'm not used to this kind of power now, Drago will take me straight to the hospital during the match."

Victor was already standing in the center of the field, slowly stretching his shoulders.

He wore boxing gloves, wrapped in thick bandages, and covered with specially made striking pads, all of which were designed to prevent Viktor from seriously injuring Apollo.

As Apollo walked over, he smelled a faint scent of ointment emanating from the other person.

"The rules are simple,"

Tony stood between the two. "Victor will strike Apollo's defensive areas with all his might, resting for thirty seconds after each combination. The goal is to get Apollo's body used to the super impact."

Apollo assumed a defensive stance and nodded to Victor.

The next second, the world seemed to explode.

Victor's first right straight punch bypassed Apollo's arms and landed heavily on his chest and abdomen.

Apollo felt a suffocating sensation, the air in his lungs was forcibly squeezed out, and a flash of white light appeared before his eyes.

He staggered backward, but his well-trained legs managed to keep his balance.

Tony's shout came from afar, "Don't hold your breath! It'll only wear you down faster!"

The second punch followed immediately, this time a left hook aimed at the ribs.

Apollo adjusted his posture in time, using his elbow to block most of the force, but the impact still made him grit his teeth.

Sweat splattered under the light, like tiny diamonds.

The third punch, the fourth punch... Victor's offensive continued like a storm.

Apollo felt like a small boat in a stormy sea, his whole body trembling with each hit.

His defense gradually became mechanical, his body instinctively seeking angles to reduce the impact.

"time up!"

Tony finally called a halt, "Take a thirty-second break."

Apollo bent over, his hands resting on his knees as he gasped for breath.

Sweat dripped onto the floor, forming a small puddle.

He looked up at Viktor, who stood calmly in place, his chest barely rising or falling.

"You have amazing stamina for someone your size!"

Apollo forced himself to stand up straight; thirty seconds had passed: "Continue."

The second round was even tougher. Victor seemed to adjust his angle, and several punches grazed Apollo's chin as they passed through his defense.

His head snapped back, his teeth chattering unsettlingly.

A metallic taste filled his mouth, and he knew his gums were bleeding.

Tighten your chin!

Rocky shouted anxiously from the sidelines, "Don't give him a chance!"

Apollo blinked his eyes, which were stinging from the sweat, and refocused.

Viktor's face was sometimes clear and sometimes blurry in his vision.

There was no pity or aggression in the sparring partner's eyes, only a terrifying focus, as if he were performing an ordinary task.

By the end of the third round, Apollo's T-shirt was completely soaked with sweat and clung to his body.

Bruising began to appear on his abdomen and ribs, and he felt a dull pain with every breath.

But he refused to rest any longer, and simply rinsed his mouth and spat out a mouthful of pink water.

He said in a hoarse voice.

Following his coach's instructions, Viktor began mimicking Drago's signature uppercut, straight punch, and hook—Viktor only had one thing to say:

'This blond boxing champion from the late Soviet era really had a lot of killer moves!'

The first blow came from below, and even though Apollo was prepared, the impact still lifted his feet several centimeters off the ground.

The second punch came right away, hitting his crossed arms and making his elbows go numb.

Tony suddenly intervened, "Victor, ease up a bit, let Apollo get used to it."

Viktor took a step back, expressionless. "I've done my best!"

The room fell into a brief silence.

Apollo felt a chill creep up his spine—if this was just a restrained attack, what would Drago's full-force strike look like?

Training continued, and Miguel came on to replace Victor.

In stark contrast to his heavy punching training, Miguel moved around Apollo like a ghost, attacking his defensive gaps with rapid and precise combinations of punches.

Apollo's reactions were dulled by his previous exertion, and he was hit in the face several times by light jabs.

"Hurry up!"

As Miguel threw a punch, he shouted in accented English, "Dragor is faster than me, but not by much!"

When the final bell rang to signal the end of training, Apollo slumped into a stool in the corner, his hands trembling uncontrollably.

His assistants immediately surrounded him, pressing ice packs on the red and swollen areas to check for any serious injuries.

Black spots appeared at the edge of his vision, and the sound of blood rushing to his ears drowned out the surrounding conversations.

"That's all for today,"

Tony's voice pierced through the mist, "Same time tomorrow. Apollo, go take an ice bath, then see the team doctor for a check-up."

Rocky handed him a towel, his eyes full of worry. "You look terrible, buddy. Maybe you don't need to fight Ivan Drago."

Apollo wanted to laugh, but only managed a hoarse gasp.

He wiped the sweat and blood from his face with a towel and stood up with Rocky's help.

He stopped as he passed Viktor.

Apollo tried to keep his voice steady, "Don't hold back!"

Viktor raised an eyebrow slightly, looked the boxing champion in the eye, and sincerely praised him: "You are a true warrior!"

Apollo laughed heartily: "I can't stand to see him so arrogant!"

In the dressing room, Apollo sat alone on a bench, staring at himself in the mirror.

His cheekbones were starting to turn bluish, and there was a small crack on the inside of his lower lip.

A hot shower relieved some of the muscle soreness, but it couldn't eliminate the deep-seated fatigue.

He recalled Victor's fist, the power that seemed to blast the soul out of the body, and this was only Drago's simulation...

A flicker of something he had never seen before flashed in the man's eyes in the mirror—fear.