Back in the rest area, Brown hid his excitement. "Good job, Jason! Keep it up! That kid won't last long. Watch out for his rear-hand punch. Barring any surprises, winning this round is just a matter of time. Ha ha, stay calm, don't rush!"
Raul laughed. "You probably don't even realize it, Jason, but your performance in the ring is like night and day compared to before. You're fierce and agile out there. Heh, forget the audience—even I was surprised! That's the mark of a real fighter…"
Everyone likes hearing praise. Jason Luo smiled. "I feel pretty good too, but Tutkason's defense is solid—almost no visible openings. Knocking him out won't be easy."
Brown nodded. "Yeah, that guy must've trained from a young age to have such disciplined technique. But it's fine—opportunities always show up. If there are no openings, we'll create them. He's shorter than you, so using body hooks is the right move, but once he catches onto that rhythm, it'll be easier for him to block. Try mixing in more uppercuts—it'll make his defense harder."
Jason nodded repeatedly. That was exactly what a coach was for. Sometimes the person in the fight couldn't see things clearly, but one sentence from an observer could open his eyes.
The one-minute break flew by—wiping sweat, rinsing his mouth, taking deep breaths to recover stamina, even treating small cuts. There was barely time for a few words before the bell rang again…
The bell sounded, starting the second round.
This time, Jason Luo charged forward as soon as the match resumed. Tutkason did the exact opposite—lifting his legs and retreating toward the corner ropes.
But retreating couldn't match Jason's speed. Tutkason was caught and pinned against the ropes under Jason's furious assault. This time, Tutkason went straight for a clinch. He'd lost confidence in close-range fighting. His strategy was simple: as soon as you get close, I'll grab and hold you, then wait for the referee to break us apart.
Now the referee had his hands full. Every time Jason lunged, Tutkason locked onto him again, resorting to dirty tactics. And worse—he didn't just hold; he kept flailing his arms wildly!
He even landed a few shots to the back of Jason's head. But with both fighters locked in a front clinch, the blows lacked real power, so the damage was minimal.
Still, the constant slapping was infuriating. Jason was furious but helpless…
In boxing, clinching is one of those frustrating moves. With gloves on, the hands can't move freely, and pushing your opponent is a foul. But short clinches aren't penalized, so they've become a common trick for the weaker fighter to buy time.
The thing is—it works. Unless there's a huge difference in Strength and skill—enough to end the match in one punch—if someone insists on clinching, there's not much you can do about it.
By the second round, Tutkason had become downright shameless, constantly using clinches to neutralize Jason's attacks, making the fight nearly impossible to continue normally.
The crowd grew restless, booing louder and louder. Brown was furious, shouting from the corner, especially since the referee still ignored Tutkason's illegal shots to the back of the head. That made him even angrier!
He yelled at the top of his lungs, "Foul! That guy's fouling again! Give him a serious warning! Hey, ref, can't you be fair for once?!"
But the referee seemed dead set on defying Brown. He kept separating the clinches without giving Tutkason a single warning.
Old Brown gritted his teeth, seething but powerless.
The referee's leniency only emboldened Tutkason further. The clinches continued, and his dirty tricks became more frequent—and more blatant.
When the referee once again broke them apart without warning Tutkason, Brown finally exploded. The old man shouted, "Hey, are you blind? You're just gonna ignore such obvious fouls? Are you even a referee anymore?"
The referee snapped, "Shut up, old man! I'm the official in this ring. As long as no one's seriously hurt, I have the authority to handle it as I see fit. Keep running your mouth, and I'll have security throw you out!"
Raul clenched his teeth in anger, but he knew they couldn't do anything. In a match, the referee's authority was absolute. Even if you were furious, all you could do was file a complaint afterward—and that rarely helped.
Brown glanced back. Two burly security guards were already standing behind him. It was clear—if he kept shouting, they'd step in.
He looked up at Jason Luo on the stage, then swallowed his anger. Raul quickly stepped in to calm him down.
But the crowd wasn't having it. They started shouting on Jason's behalf. "He's not even calling the fouls! This is ridiculous! Did that referee take a bribe?"
"Exactly! You can't just keep clinching like that. He should've been warned ages ago. There's something shady going on here!"
"So biased! This match isn't fair at all…"
The audience's complaints echoed through the arena, but the match went on. Jason tried everything to escape Tutkason's grip, but his opponent clearly knew the referee wouldn't punish him. Every time Jason got close, Tutkason tucked his fists over his head and elbows over his ribs, ramming straight into Jason's chest. With only his torso exposed, Jason couldn't land a clean hit. It was shameless beyond belief...
Today's referee was clearly acting strange—maybe just out of spite toward Brown. He refused to penalize or even warn Tutkason. Ignoring the crowd's protests, he separated the fighters again and stepped back, shooting Brown a smug look that seemed to say, "See? I'm in charge here."
But he didn't realize who he was dealing with. The moment the referee turned around, a dark object flew from ringside and smacked him right on the head!
Startled, he looked down—only to find a shoe lying at his feet!
Looking up, he saw Brown stomping furiously and yelling, "You piece of garbage! Go home and babysit your kids! I'm telling you, stay after the match if you've got the guts! This old man'll fight you one-on-one! You up for it, huh?!"
...
That did it. The place erupted!
The crowd burst out laughing, finally feeling a sense of justice. "Beautiful! That referee had it coming! Ha ha, that's the kind of coach I like!"
"Yeah! That's the spirit! Classic American move! Great throw! Hey, old man, you can borrow my shoe next!"
The audience cheered him on, but security had a job to do. They immediately rushed forward, stopping Brown as he tried to take off his other shoe, restraining him on the spot.
With chaos breaking out, the match had to be paused. Seeing Brown being dragged away by security, Jason panicked and rushed toward the ropes, ready to jump off the ring. Raul quickly grabbed him and whispered, "Mr. Brown said to focus on the fight. He did it on purpose…"
Jason froze, then suddenly understood. Brown had deliberately caused a scene to put pressure on the referee. After all, with something like this happening, the organizing committee would have no choice but to investigate afterward.