vncnus Page 191
Page 191
Johnny stood up in the back row and shouted at the top of his lungs, completely disregarding his hoarse throat.
Victor stepped into the boxing ring, took off his battle robe, revealing a massive body as large as a mountain.
The referee summoned the two boxers to the center and gave them final instructions.
"I know you respect each other,"
The referee said sternly, "But I want a clean game. Listen to instructions and protect yourself at all times. Now go back to your corner and wait for the bell."
The two men exchanged a glance; Holyfield's eyes burned with fighting spirit, while Victor's eyes burned with boiling rage.
Chapter 160 Defeating the Boxing Champion in One Round
It was like flipping a crazy switch.
Holyfield was launched into the air in an instant!
Just like a cheetah pouncing on its prey, its movements are light, swift, and rhythmic.
His jabs slashed through the air like the forked tongue of a viper, repeatedly aimed at Viktor's face and chest.
The crisp sound of the hit echoed throughout the venue through the loudspeakers.
This is a test, but more importantly, it's about establishing an invisible firepower barrier to control the optimal distance.
"A perfect start!"
In the commentary booth, Rocky leaned forward, his eyes gleaming with professional expertise. "Look at Holyfield's sense of distance! His movements are like dancing, keeping his opponents in the most uncomfortable positions. Victor's heavy cannon hasn't even had a chance to fire yet!"
As written in the script, Victor transforms into a mobile fortress.
His tall frame bent slightly, his classic stance protecting his head and vital parts of his torso, like holding up a huge shield.
Holyfield's jabs mostly landed on his arms and gloves, making dull 'thump thump' sounds.
Through the gap in the support frame, his cold eyes remained fixed on the leaping Holyfield.
"Victor seems a bit passive, Rocky?"
Another commentator, Jack, known for his data analysis skills, asked, "Hollyfield's effective hits are rising rapidly."
"Don't be fooled by the numbers, Jack!"
Rocky's voice was deep, "Boxing has been changed. The people who changed boxing are Victor and Tyson. They don't need to fight for points, they just need knockouts!!!"
"The future of boxing belongs to them!"
Jack countered, "But right now, Holyfield and his ilk are still the kings of the boxing world! Old-school boxing is still the mainstream!"
Rocky pointed to the field: "But look at Victor's eyes! He's not flustered, not even showing any pain. He's taking those punches, feeling their power, their rhythm. He's calculating."
Ivand was fast, but every movement, every punch, consumed energy and revealed information. Victor was waiting, waiting for the right moment to pay with his currency—devastating blows!
On the field, Holyfield once again used a combination:
A feint with a jab, followed by a quick right straight punch that landed on Victor's guard again.
After succeeding, he habitually, almost subconsciously, slid his right foot outward at a small angle to build up power for his next move or burst of speed.
This subtle habit, repeatedly mentioned by Viktor's team while studying the video footage, became even clearer in actual combat.
Viktor's pupils contracted slightly.
Just as Holyfield threw another jab and his right foot began to slide—in that one-hundredth of a second when his old strength was slightly depleted and his new strength had not yet been generated!
Viktor moved!
It wasn't retreating, it wasn't blocking, but rather like a main battle tank suddenly starting up, rushing forward with a roar!
He used his face and chest to forcefully break through Holyfield's dense but not particularly heavy barrage of jabs!
"My God! He charged forward!"
Rocky gasped in surprise, almost jumping off his chair.
Holyfield's fist did indeed land on Victor's face, a jab even grazing the skin of his left cheek, a drop of blood splattering out.
But Viktor seemed oblivious, his massive figure pressing down on the inner perimeter like a mountain!
A look of disbelief and astonishment flashed across Holyfield's eyes.
He retreated rapidly, trying to create distance again; this was his most familiar territory.
Victor's massive 400-pound frame unleashed a speed far beyond imagination, allowing him to close the distance instantly and cleverly block Holyfield's preferred retreat angle with his broad shoulders and imposing stance!
The cheetah was cornered by the giant bear!
Next, it was Victor's turn to show why he was called "The Beast".
A heavy left straight punch, like a battering ram, slammed into Holyfield's slightly exposed right abdomen as he retreated!
Holyfield's body stiffened abruptly, pain flashing across his face, and the arms protecting his head instinctively sank slightly.
Just at this moment!
Victor's right hook came hurtling in with a terrifying whoosh!
Like a thick oak stick, it slammed solidly into Holyfield's left temple!
The dull thud of the boxing gloves striking the skull sent a shiver through the entire audience.
Holyfield was knocked to the right and staggered, his vision blurred for a moment, and his brace completely fell apart.
Viktor didn't pause for even a fraction of a second!
His attacks were like a precisely programmed killing machine. His left hook struck the already badly injured abdomen again, causing Holyfield's body to curl up in pain, leaving his defenses wide open!
Immediately following, a tricky and fierce right uppercut, coming from below as if to tear the air, perfectly passed through Holyfield's powerless arms and accurately struck the junction of his chin and jawbone!
A sharp, teeth-grinding crack—or perhaps it was an illusion?
The sound came through the microphone into the deathly silent stadium.
"Oh!!!!"
A huge gasp erupted from the audience.
Holyfield's head jerked back, his eyes glazed over, and his body went limp as if all his bones had been removed.
But Viktor's final blow had already been delivered!
A right straight punch, imbued with the full force of his body, was like a cannonball fired from a gun. Without any fancy moves, only the purest and most savage power, it caught up with the falling Holyfield and finally landed solidly on his chin!
Time seemed to stand still.
Holyfield's body paused strangely in mid-air for a moment, then crashed backward like a tree chopped down by an axe, slamming into the boxing ring with a deafening thud that shook the entire surface.
Then the referee rushed up, knelt on one knee, and loudly counted: "...Three! Four! Five!..."
But it makes no sense.
Holyfield stared blankly at the dazzling lights on the ceiling, his consciousness already drifting away.
His body twitched slightly, unable to respond.
"Nine! Ten! The match is over!"
The referee waved his arms and decisively ended the match.
Round 1, 2 minutes and 30 seconds!
After a tremendous silence came a volcanic eruption of sound—boxing champion Evander Holyfield, a three-time world number one, was knocked out in the first round by Victor!
Cheers, screams, incredulous exclamations, angry roars... all sorts of sounds mixed together into a deafening torrent that almost lifted the roof off the arena!
"Unbelievable! Incredible! Rocky, did you see that? A massacre! A lightning-fast massacre!"
Jack shouted into the microphone.
Rocky took a deep breath, trying to keep his professional voice from being completely drowned out by the frenzy of the crowd:
"I saw it... but I could hardly believe what I was seeing. This wasn't luck, Jack. It was perfect tactical execution and overwhelming force!"
Viktor took those jabs to fuel his counterattack!
He seized that fleeting moment! And once he entered the inner circle, his continuous barrage of blows… God, that's simply beyond human endurance! Holyfield had absolutely no chance!
Outside the boxing ring, Johnny and his friends hugged, jumped, and roared wildly, tears mingling with sweat as they streamed down their faces. They had won their bet and witnessed a miracle performed by the god they worshipped.
Ivana clapped enthusiastically, her smile radiant. She had already seen the immense commercial value hidden within Viktor, a treasure that would shine brighter than any jewel.
Congressman Ubelman and President George H.W. Bush exchanged a glance that contained a great deal of meaning:
Viktor's influence among the Chinese will only make them wary!
Under the spotlight, Viktor did not celebrate wildly like other knockout winners.
He slowly exhaled a breath of stale air, the ferocity on his face vanishing in an instant.
He first crouched down, approaching the unconscious Holyfield, until medical personnel rushed onto the stage to check on his opponent's condition.
Only when he saw Holyfield gradually regain consciousness and his eyes refocus did Victor stand up.
He raised his arms, his gaze sweeping across the boiling audience. His face remained expressionless, but beneath that calm lay an undeniable, breathtaking kingly majesty.
Mad Tiger not only won the match, but also announced his era to the world in the most domineering way, with a storm of knockouts.
The impact of this brief battle went far beyond the cheers and betting settlements that night.
In professional boxing forums and media commentary, the analysis has only just begun.
Viktor's terrifyingly fast and explosive punches, which are "unlike those of a 400-pound heavyweight," have become a key focus of technical analysis.
In a brief post-fight interview, his coaching team revealed that this was the result of extreme training—while retaining his devastating punches, he compensated for any potential agility deficiencies caused by his massive physique through extremely rigorous training.
Everyone knows that this is all a lie.
"His training regimen is monstrous,"
"The price he paid was far beyond what most people can imagine," an assistant said with awe.
Holyfield's team was shocked and began to reflect.
That subtle sliding habit, which might have been an insignificant detail in the past, became a fatal flaw in the face of a predator of Viktor's caliber.
This serves as a wake-up call for all top boxers: against Viktor, any technical flaw can be magnified and fatally punished.