My Classmate at Hogwarts is Voldemort Chapter 133

Tom King used the last piece of bread to wipe out the last bit of soup in the basin, and then slowly chewed it thoughtfully. When he got up from the table, he still felt very hungry. However, he was the only one who had eaten. The two children in the next room had been put to bed long ago, because they would forget that they didn't eat dinner as soon as they slept. His wife hadn't eaten anything, and sat silently, looking at him worriedly. She is a thin and haggard working-class woman, but her face still has traces of the beauty of her youth. She borrowed the flour for the soup from the neighbor across the corridor. She bought the bread with the last two small coins.

He sat on a stumbling chair by the window that could not stand his weight, mechanically tucked his pipe in his mouth, and reached into his jacket pocket. There was no tobacco in his pocket, which made him feel shocked, frowned, blamed himself for forgetfulness, and then put the pipe aside. His movements were slow and awkward, as if he couldn't overcome the heavy burden of his muscles. He is a sturdy person who looks dull and not very pleasing in appearance. His coarse clothes are old and sloppy. His shoes were replaced a long time ago, and the uppers were too bad to hold the heavy soles. His cloth shirt was a bargain for two shillings, the neckline had been worn out, and there were many paint spots that could not be removed.

However, only his face tells exactly who he is. That is the face of a typical professional boxer, a face that has been mixed in the boxing ring for many years, so all the signs of a combative beast are very prominent on his face. This is clearly a frowning face, and the features on his face are nothing to hide from people's eyes. The two lips are broken into a very ugly mouth, like a scar on the face. His jaw looked aggressive, strong and cruel. His eyes turned very slowly, his eyelids were thick, and he was almost expressionless under his thick eyebrows. He is simply a beast, and the most beast-like part is his eyes. These eyes looked drowsy, just like the lion's--

It's the eyes of aggressive beasts. His forehead collapsed obliquely below the roots of his hair. The hair was cut very short, and every bulge on his fierce-looking head could be seen. His nose, which had been broken twice, became oddly shaped because of numerous blows. His ears were always swollen like cabbage, and they were twice as large as before. These are all the decorations on his face. In addition, although his beard had only been shaved, the stubble of the beard grew out of his skin, and his face was painted in blue and black.

In short, this is a scary face in a dark alley or in a remote place. However, Tom King was neither a criminal, nor did he commit a crime. Apart from frequent professional fights, he has never hurt anyone. I have never heard of him quarreling with anyone. He is a professional boxing person, his aggressive and barbaric behavior, all left to the boxing ring to show. Outside the boxing ring, he is a slow-moving, easy-going person, and when he was young, money came easily, he was very generous with people and didn't plan for himself. He doesn't remember old hatreds and has few enemies. For him, boxing is equivalent to earning a living. In the boxing ring, he wounded people, crippled people, and even killed people, but he had no intentions.

This is just a very ordinary business. The audience spent money to come to the venue just to watch people knock each other down. Those who win can get a lot of money. Twenty years ago, when he was going to boxing with Urumlu Gaojie, he knew that Gao Jie's jaw had been broken in a match in Newcastle. It was less than four months since he recovered. Therefore, he specifically attacked the chin, and finally broke it in the ninth round. This was not because he had any malice towards Gao Jie, but because he wanted to defeat Gao Jie and win that large sum of money. Only this method was the most reliable. Gao Jie did not take revenge for it. That's what the game is about, they all understand, and they all do it.

Tom King never speaks much. He often sits dullly by the window, staring at his hands. The blood vessels on the back of his hand were swollen, thick and swollen, and you can see how he used his fists by looking at the knuckles that were injured, shattered, and deformed. He has never heard that a person's life is equal to the life of his arteries, but he fully understands the meaning of these swollen veins. His heart passes through the blood vessels with the greatest pressure, and has once sent too much blood. Now these arteries are no longer useful. They had swollen and lost their elasticity, and at the same time, his endurance was also dying due to the swelling of the blood vessels. Now, he gets tired easily. He can no longer fight for twenty rounds very quickly, fighting desperately, fighting, fighting, from one gong to another, the more and more violent the fight, and then the fight against the rope, and then again. His opponent was leaning on the rope and getting fierce each time. Finally in the twentieth round, the audience stood up and shouted, but he himself used the method of rushing, hitting, and flashing like a torrential rain. His fists hit the opponent one after another, and at the same time, he also hit the other party's fists, and his heart always faithfully sends the turbulent blood to the appropriate blood vessels. Although those blood vessels were swollen greatly at the time, they always retracted back to their original shape, but it was not exactly like that.

After each boxing, they are always a little bigger than before, but at first they can't be seen. He stared at these blood vessels and the injured knuckles, and instantly seemed to see the young and graceful image of these hands. However, that was before the hands smashed the first knuckle on the head of Benny Jones, nicknamed "The Fierce God of Wells."

Now he feels hungry again.

"Oh! Can't I even eat a piece of steak!" He muttered loudly, while squeezing his big fist, spit out a curse suppressed.

"I've been to Burke and Sole." His wife said a little apologetically.

"They won't?" he asked.

"Not half a penny. Buck said..." She hesitated to say nothing.

"Go on! What did he say?"

"He said, he thinks Sandel will beat you tonight, and you owe him enough."

Tom King snorted, but did not answer. He was thinking about the hunting dog he had when he was young, and he kept feeding it steaks. At that time, even if he wanted to credit a thousand steaks, Burke would also agree. But times have changed. Tom King is getting old. An old man boxing in a second-class club cannot count on the merchant to give him much on credit.

This morning, he wanted to eat a steak when he came together, but his thoughts have not been relieved. This time he boxed, he hadn't exercised well beforehand. This year, Australia suffered from a severe drought and life was very difficult. It was not easy to find a temporary job. He doesn't have anyone to accompany him to practice boxing, and the food he eats is not the best, and sometimes he can't get enough. Sometimes even if he finds a job, he will work as a temporary cooler for a few days. Every morning, he has to run a few laps around Taomen Park to practice his legs. But this is also difficult to practice well. He has no partners and has to support his wife and two children. After he got the chance to play against Sandel, the merchants only relaxed his credit a little bit. The secretary of the Jolly Club was only willing to advance three gold pounds to him-this is the reward that a failed person may get-

Otherwise, he refused to borrow any more. Sometimes he managed to borrow a few shillings from his old friends. They were willing to lend him a few more, but they themselves had difficulty in such a severe drought. Come on-it's no use concealing the facts-

He didn't exercise enough before the game. He should eat better, without worrying in his heart. In addition, a forty-year-old person is of course harder to get results than when he was twenty-year-old.

"When is it, Liz?" he asked.

His wife asked the other side of the corridor and said:

"A quarter to eight."

"In a few minutes, they will start their first game," he said. "It was just a test of fists. The next four rounds of Diller Welsh vs. Gledley, and then Starlight Ten rounds of fighting with the same sailor, and an hour later I won't be on the court."

After another ten minutes of silence, he stood up.

"Honestly, Lizhi, I simply haven't practiced well."

He reached for his hat and walked to the door. He didn't kiss her—he never kissed her goodbye when he went out—but that night, she took the initiative to kiss him, put her arms around him, and forced him to bow his head and kiss her. His body is so burly, she looks even smaller by comparison.

"I hope you have good luck, Tom," she said, "you must beat him."

"Yes, I must beat him," he said the same, "it has to be that way anyway. I must beat him."

He laughed, pretending to be happy, and at this time, she pressed him tighter. He looked at the empty room over her shoulder. This is all he has in the world: long owed rent, his wife and children. Now, he is leaving home and going outside in the dark to get something to eat for his wife and little guy——

However, he did not go to the lathe to work patiently like a modern worker, but used the ancient, primitive, mighty, and beast-like way to fight.

"I must beat him," he repeated, this time, with a little desperate tone, "If you win, it will be thirty gold pounds-I can pay all the bills, and there is nothing left. A lot of money. If I beat, I won't get anything—not even a penny on the tram home. The secretary has given me all the loser's share. Goodbye, old lady. If you fight If I win, I'll be right back."

"I'm waiting for you." She called to him in the corridor.

It's a full two miles to the Jolly Club. As he walks, he thinks of his original golden age—he used to be a heavyweight player in New South Wales—

At that time, he used to go boxing in a carriage, and there was often a man who made a big bet on him along with him, paying for the car for him. Take Tommy Burns and that black American Jack Johnson for example--

They are all traveling by car. But he had to walk! At the same time, everyone knows that walking two miles hard before boxing is not the best way. He is old, and the world today is really bad for older people. Except for hard work, he is useless. Even so, his bad nose and swollen ears have to fight him. He really hoped he learned the same craft back then. In the long run, that's always better. But no one had ever said this to him. Furthermore, he knew in his heart that even if someone had told him, he would not have listened. At that time, life was too easy. Large sums of money——

Fierce and glorious battle-there is still a period of rest and leisure in the middle-

A bunch of people who tried to flatter him always followed him, patted him on the back, and shook his hand. Those rich and young were also willing to invite him to drink, so that they could talk to him for five minutes, thinking it was a great honor— —

That situation is indeed glorious: the audience screamed wildly, he ended with a stormy boxing, the judges always announced: "Tom King wins!" And the next day he will be published in the sports section of the newspaper. first name.

That was the golden age! But now after he slowly recalled, he realized that it was all the old men who had knocked him down. At that time, he was a young man and was growing up; and they were all old and declining. No wonder he wins so easily--

It turns out that their blood vessels have been swollen, their knuckles have been injured, and their muscles and bones have been tired due to the long-term boxing match. He remembered how he defeated the old Stoshle Bill in the eighteenth round in Rashicutters Bay, and then the old Bill cried like a child in the locker room. Maybe the old Bill was also in arrears of rent at the time; maybe he also had a wife and two children in his family; maybe on the day of the boxing, Bill was also eager to eat a steak: at the time, Bill fought very bravely, so he was fought back fiercely. Now, after he himself suffered this kind of torture, he realized that on that night twenty years ago, Stoshle Bill was fighting for a bigger stake, and he, the young Tom King , But for honor and easy money. No wonder Stoshle Bill would cry like that in the dressing room later.

In short, it seems that a person can only fight so many times in his life. This is the iron law of boxing. Some people's energy may be able to fight fiercely a hundred times, and some people may only be able to fight 20 times; everyone, according to his physique and temperament, has a certain number, wait until he finishes the fight. , He is finished. Yes, he fights more often than most of his peers, and the hard work he has experienced has far exceeded his duty——

And this kind of competition always makes the heart and lungs seem to rupture, makes the arteries lose elasticity, makes the young flexible and soft muscles form lumps, makes his nerves numb and loses energy, and makes him suffer from excessive exertion and tolerance. His mind is also exhausted. Yes, he did better than them. His old partner is gone. Among the older generation of boxers, he is the last one. He saw them all finished one by one, and the ending of a few of them had something to do with him.

In the past, they always used him to deal with those old guys, and he knocked them down one by one—

Whenever they cried bitterly in the dressing room like the old Stoshle Bill, he always found it ridiculous. Now that he himself is old, they are using those young men to deal with him. Take Sandel as an example. He is from New Zealand and his sports performance stays there. But in Australia, no one knew his situation, so they let him play against Tom King. If Sandel does a good job, they will let him compete with better people and win more prizes. Therefore, needless to say, he will fight fiercely in this game. With this game, he will win everything-

Money, honor, and future; Tom King is an old gray-haired chopping board that hinders him from going to the avenue of fame and fortune. He can't win anything, only the thirty golden pounds at most, so that he can pay off the landlord and merchant. Just as Tom King thought about it like this, the image of youth appeared in his dull mind——

The image of a proud, brilliant youth with soft muscles, smooth skin, tireless and healthy heart and lungs, laughs at the youth with limited power. Yes, the youth is Nemeses[42]. He ruined the older generation without thinking about it at all. To do so would be tantamount to ruining himself. This enlarged his arteries, shattered his knuckles, and ended up ruined by the next generation of youth. Because youth is always young. Only old age will get old.

When he reached Castlereagh Street, he turned to the left and walked across three crossroads to the Jolly Club. There was a group of rogue teenagers outside the door, respectfully giving way to him. He only heard one person say to another: "That's him! That's Tom King!"

After entering, he ran into the club secretary on the way to the locker room. This young man had sharp eyes and a clever face. He shook hands with him.

"What do you think, Tom?" he asked.

"Very good," Tom King replied. Of course, he knew it was a lie, and if he had a pound, he would immediately buy a good steak.

When he came out of the locker room and took his assistant along the aisle to the boxing ring in the middle of the hall, the audience who was waiting for the performance immediately made a sound of welcome and cheers. He returned the courtesy to the audience on the left and right, but there were few faces he knew. Most of the audience was not born when he won the honor for the first time in the boxing ring. He briskly jumped onto the stage, lowered his head to get to his corner from under the rope, and sat on a folding stool. Judge Jack Bauer came over and shook his hand. Bauer is a broken boxer. He hasn't been the protagonist on the stage for more than ten years. Tom was very happy to see him as a judge. They are all people of the older generation. If he breaks a little bit of rules, he knows that Bauer will pass sloppyly when he treats Sandel a little too much.

Young and ambitious heavyweight boxers crawled into the circle one by one and were introduced to the audience by the judges. At the same time, he also announced their challenges.

"Young Pronto," Bauer announced, "I am from North Sydney. He is willing to add another fifty pounds to challenge the winner."

After the audience cheered, when Sandel jumped into the circle and sat in his corner, he cheered again. Tom King looked at Sandel on the opposite side curiously, because within a few minutes, they were about to twist together in a merciless battle and use all their strength to knock each other out. But he couldn't see much, because Sandel, like him, also wore long pants and a woolen sweater over his boxing suit. His face is very handsome, with curly yellow hair on his head, and from his strong, muscular neck, he must be very strong.

The young Pronto walked from corner to corner, and after shaking hands with the protagonist on the stage, he went down. The challenge continues. Young people are constantly crawling into the circle—the unnamed, but insatiable young man—

Always shouting to everyone, they have to compete with the winner with their own strength and ability. If a few years ago, in the golden age of his invincibility, Tom King might have found this kind of behavior funny and annoying. But now, he sat there, as if fascinated, and couldn't get rid of the illusion of youth in his eyes. These lads always have the upper hand in boxing matches, always jump in from the circle and challenge loudly; and those who fall in front of them are always the older generation. They all climbed from the older generation to the road to success. They are coming in endlessly, more and more—unstoppable and unstoppable youth—

They always knocked down the older generation, and then they grew old and walked the same downhill, and those who kept coming up behind them would always be young people——

These newborn babies, when they grow up majestic, always knock down their elders, and at the same time, more newborn babies will appear behind them, forever-young people must realize their will and never die.

Tom glanced at the press booth and nodded with Morgan of the "Sports" and Corber of the "Justice". Then he stretched out his hand, and one of Sandel's assistants strictly inspected the thin band around his knuckles, and under the close supervision of this person, his own assistants--

Sid Sullivan and Charlie Bates put on his gloves and tightened them. At the same time, in Zander's corner, there is also an assistant of Tom who does the same thing. At this time, Sandel's pants were already taken off, and as soon as he stood up, his wool sweater was taken off from his head. Tom King looked over and saw the concrete image of the young man, with a thick chest, strong muscles, and his muscles like living things rolling under the white satin skin. The whole body is full of active life. Tom King knows that this is a life that has never lost his vitality. After the long-term battle, this vitality vented from the painful pores. The youth paid the effort to pass this test. At the price, he won't be as young as before.

The two men approached, and when the gong rang, the assistants crackled up on the folding stool and climbed out of the circle. After they shook their hands, they immediately assumed a fighting pose. And Sandel, immediately like a mechanism composed of steel and springs, under the dexterous trigger control, he kept going back and forth, hitting Tom in the eyes with his left fist for a while, and hitting his ribs with his right fist for a while, and then avoided. The other party gave a punch, jumped slightly away, and then jumped back compellingly. His movements are very agile and dexterous. This is a dazzling performance. The audience cheered loudly. But Tom was not dazzled. He has participated in too many competitions and encountered too many young opponents. He knows what this type of boxing is going on--

It is too fast and too flexible to be dangerous. It is clear that Sandel wanted to make a quick decision from the beginning. This is expected. This is always the case for young people-acting fiercely, attacking fiercely, consuming their brilliance and superiority recklessly, and overwhelming each other with infinite brilliant energy and desire to win.

As Sandel advances and retreats, here and there for a while, he jumps around the field, his pace is brisk, and his mood is eager, like a living miracle composed of snow-white skin and firm muscles, forming a body with his body. The dazzling offensive net, slipped over, jumped over, moving one after another like a flying shuttle, non-stop for a while. And these thousands of actions are aimed at one purpose, which is to destroy Tom King. Because Tom King prevented him from flying. But Tom King patiently endured it. He knows what to do, although he himself is no longer a youth, but he knows youth. His thinking is that there is no way until the other party loses a part of his energy. So he smiled secretly, deliberately lowered his head, and received a heavy punch. This is a vicious method, but according to the rules of boxing, it is quite legitimate. A person should protect his knuckles. Therefore, if he must hit his opponent's head, it can only be said that he is asking for trouble. King could hide his head a little bit lower and let the punch fall without hurting anyone, but he remembered how he broke his first knuckle on the head of the fierce Welsh in the original game. Situation. Now, he just wants to win. This bow made Sandel pay a knuckle price. For now, Sandel will not care. In this game, he will continue to fight to the end without mind. However, when he fights on the boxing field for a long time, he will deplore this knuckle when he starts to have an impact. In retrospect, I remember how he broke the knuckle on Tom King's head. Up.

The first round was entirely Zander's world, and his whirlwind onslaught caused applause from the audience. His overwhelming punches overwhelmed Tom, and Tom did nothing. He never returned a punch, he only asked to cover, resist, dodge, or wrestle with the opponent to avoid being beaten. Sometimes, he feinted, shook his head when his fist fell, and then went around dullly. He never jumped around or wasted a bit of energy, and he must wait until Sandel vented his youth before the cautious old man dared to fight back. All Jin's movements are slow, slick, and his eyes with thick eyelids and slow turning make him look half-asleep, half-awake, and bewildered. However, this is a pair of omnipresent eyes. In the boxing field life of more than 20 years, his eyesight has long been exercised. Even if they hit their eyes with a punch, they won't blink or move, but they can calmly observe the distance of the punch.

At the end of the first round, when he rested for a minute, he was sitting in his corner, lying on his back with his legs spread out, putting his arms on the ropes on both sides; when he sucked in, his assistants fanned with towels. When the air came, he could see that his chest was undulating deeply. He closed his eyes and heard the shouts in the venue. "Why don't you fight, Tom?" Many people are yelling, "You are not afraid of him, are you?"

"The muscles are hardened," he heard a man sitting in the front row say, "His movements can't be fast. If Sandel loses, I will pay twice as much as gold."

With the sound of the gong, both people walked forward from their corners. Sandel was eager to fight again and ran to three-quarters of the audience; but Tom was willing to take a few steps. This is fully in line with his strategy of saving energy. He has neither exercised well nor eaten enough, every step is very important. Furthermore, he has walked two miles to the boxing ring. This round was the same as the first round, and Sandel was still attacking like a whirlwind, and the audience angrily asked Tom King why he didn't fight. He pretends to be offensive and slowly throws a few punches without effect. Other than that, he only resorts to resisting, procrastinating and wrestling. Sandel wants to fight quickly, but Tom is very smart and refuses to cater to Sandel. He grinned, the face that had been wounded on the fist field, showing a contemplative, sad and indignant air, and continued to preserve his strength with the prudence that old people have. Sandel is a young man. He always wastes his energy with the generous and indulgent style of young people. Tom is a general in the boxing field. He has the wisdom gained from long and painful battles. He stared at each other with calm eyes and mind. He moved slowly, waiting for Sandel to vent his spirit. To most of the audience, Tom seemed to be hopelessly overwhelmed. They expressed their willingness to place a three-to-one bet on Sandel. But there are a few smart people who know Tom's past, so they accept the challenge they think is easy to win.

At the beginning of the third round, it was still one-sided, Sandel still had all the initiative, and tried his best. After half a minute, Sandel revealed a flaw due to his overconfidence. At this moment, Tom saw his hand, his eyes shone, and his right hand struck like lightning. This is his first real blow--

With an uppercut, he twisted his arm into an arch to make his fist firmer, and at the same time added the full weight of the half-rotating body to the fist. It was like a lion that seemed to be sleeping, and suddenly stretched out a paw like lightning. Sandel, who was hit by the chin, immediately fell down like a steer. The audience gasped and murmured awe-inspiring cheers. The man's muscles have never become stiff, and he can punch his fist like a sledgehammer.

Sandel was terrified. He rolled over and tried to get up, but his assistant drank him and asked him to wait for the count. He knelt on one knee, getting ready, but still waiting. At this time, the referee was watching him, counting loudly to his ears. When he counted to nine, he stood up and assumed a fighting stance; at this time, Tom King, who was facing him, couldn't help but regret it. It would be fine if the punch was one inch closer to Sandel's chin. That way, he can knock him out, and he can go home with thirty pounds to see his wife and children.

This round has been playing for the required three minutes, and Sandel respected his opponent for the first time, but Tom's movements were still very slow, and his eyes were still so sleepy. When Tom King saw his assistants squatting down outside the rope and preparing to jump in, he was alert that the round was about to end, so he directed the fight to his own corner. As soon as the gong rang, he immediately sat on the stool waiting for him to sit, but Sandel had to walk the diagonal of the square and return to his corner. This is a trivial matter, but the accumulation of many trivial matters is a big deal. Sandel has to walk a lot more, consume a lot of energy, and lose some time in this precious minute of rest. At the beginning of each round, Tom King walked slowly past his corner, forcing his opponent to walk longer than him. And before the end of each round, Tom always leads the fight to his corner, so he can sit down immediately.

In the next two rounds, Tom King kept saving energy, while Sandel tried to waste as much as possible. Sandel's fast-paced offensive made him very uncomfortable. Because most of those rain-like fists were hit. But Tom insisted on his stubborn procrastination strategy, and he ignored no matter how impatient young people urged him to fight. Later, in the sixth round, Sandel was careless again. Tom's terrible right fist struck him in the jaw like lightning, and Sandel waited until the referee counted to nine.

In the seventh round, Sandel's advantage was over, so he settled down and dealt with him knowing that this was the toughest match in his life. Tom King is an old guy, but much better than the old guys he met—

This old guy never loses his mind, his defensive skills are very strong, his fist is like a knotted stick, and he can knock people down with both hands. However, Tom King still did not dare to attack from time to time. He has never forgotten his broken knuckles. He knows that if his knuckles are to be supported to the end, he must hit them again and again. When he sat in his corner and glanced at his opponent, he suddenly thought of an idea, if he combines his wisdom with Sandel's youth, he will become a world-famous heavyweight champion. . But the difficulty lies here. Sandel will never become a world player. He lacks wisdom, and the only way to get wisdom is to buy it with youth; when he has wisdom, his youth will be wasted.

Tom King used all the advantageous tactics he knew. He has never let go of a chance to scramble. Whenever he scrambles, he always hits the other's ribs with his shoulders. According to boxing theory, the damage caused by the shoulder and the fist is the same, and the physical exertion is much better. Moreover, with a twist, Tom always put his weight on the opponent and refused to let go. This forced the referee to intervene and pulled them away, but Sandel, who had not learned to rest, helped the referee to release. He couldn't help it, he always used his majestic flying arms and his writhing muscles. Whenever the opponent rushed over and squeezed, pressed his shoulder against his ribs, and leaned his head on Sandel's left arm, Sandel almost always swung his right fist past his back and hit the protruding face. This hand is very clever, the audience admires it very much, but it is not dangerous, so it can only be regarded as a waste of energy. However, Sandel was tireless and ignorant of temperance, and Tom always grinned and endured stubbornly.

Later, Sandel resorted to a punching method of slamming Tom's body with his right fist, which looked like Tom had been beaten. However, only boxing enthusiasts admire Tom's ingenious way of touching the opponent's biceps with the glove on the left just before the fist hits. Of course, I hit every time; but every time I touched my biceps, my fist lost its strength. In the ninth round, three times in a minute, Tom bent his arm, hit the opponent's chin with his right fist and hook; three times in a row, Sandel's heavy body was knocked down on the mat. Every time he stood up after resting for the nine seconds he should have. Although he was shaking and dizzy, his physical strength was still very strong. His speed was much slower than before, but he wasted less energy. He struggled very hard, but he will continue to use his capital——

youth. Tom's capital is experience. Now, his energy has declined and his strength has been weakened, but he replaced them with strategies. He will use the wisdom he has gained in long-term games, and he will carefully accumulate his strength. Not only does he know that there must be no extra action, but he also knows how to induce the other party to consume energy. He repeatedly used his hands and feet with his body, pretending to attack, causing Sandel to jump back for a while, evade and retaliate. Tom King was resting, but he would never let Sandel rest. This is the strategy of the elderly.

In the tenth round, Tom King began to hit the opponent's face with a straight left fist to block the opponent's onslaught. At this time, Sandel had become cautious. He immediately retracted his left arm, bowed his head and flashed. The right fist hooked upwards and hit Tom's head. The punch was too high to be effective; but as soon as Tom struck his fist, he immediately felt the darkness in front of him and a momentary coma that he was familiar with before. In an instant, or rather, in a ten-thousandth of an instant, his life stopped. Before this moment, he saw Sandel flash out of his field of vision, and the white face in the background behind was gone; and after a moment, he saw Sandel and the faces in the background again. He seemed to slept for a while before opening his eyes; however, the moment of unconsciousness was very short, and he did not have time to fall down. The audience only saw him sway, his knees bent, and then he recovered, and his chin was tightly protected with his left shoulder.

Sandel played like this several times in a row, leaving Tom in a semi-comatose state, but Tom finally figured out a way to use offense as defense. He pretended to attack with his left fist, but immediately stepped back half a step, and slammed his right fist upwards with full force. He calculated the time very accurately, and while Sandel was lowering his head to dodge, he hit his fist upright in the face, hitting Sandel with his feet in the air, shrinking into a ball and leaning back, turning his head and shoulders. At the same time knocked down on the mat. Tom King hit twice in a row like this, and then he let go of his opponent and forced him to the rope. He didn't let Sandel have a little chance to rest or cheer up. He just smashed it punch after punch until all the audience stood up, and the air was full of roaring cheers. But Sandel's strength and endurance are outstanding, and he is still standing. It seemed that Sandel was going to be knocked out. A police officer next to the scene was frightened by the terrible beating and quickly stood up to stop the boxing. When the gong sounded and the end of the round was announced, Sandel staggered back to his corner and declared to the police officer that he was still very good and very energetic. To prove this, he jumped back twice and the police officer backed down.

At this time, Tom King, who was leaning against his corner and panting hard, was very disappointed. If the boxing is stopped, the referee will have to make a conclusion, and the thirty golden pounds will go to him. He is different from Sandel, he is not fighting for honor or future, he is only for the thirty golden pounds. Now, Sandel will recover in just one minute of rest.

Young people always have a way-

This sentence suddenly flashed in Tom King's mind, and he remembered that the first time he heard this sentence, it was the night when he defeated Stokel Bill. This is what the guy who invited him to drink after boxing, patted his shoulder and said to him. Young people always have a way! That guy is right. On the night long ago, he was indeed a young man. However, tonight, the young man was sitting in the opposite corner. As for himself, he has been fighting for half an hour, he is already an old man. If he fights like Sandel, he won't be able to support it even for fifteen minutes. However, the problem is: his strength cannot be recovered. Those protruding arteries and the exhausted heart prevented him from regaining his power during the rest between the two rounds. Moreover, his strength was not sufficient at the beginning. His legs are heavy and he is beginning to cramp. He shouldn't walk those two miles before the fight. And the steak he missed so much when he came together in the morning. He hated the butcher shop owner who refused to give him credit. An old person who has not eaten enough is hard to beat. A piece of steak is worth a few pennies at most, but for him it is equal to thirty gold pounds.

After the sound of the gong in the eleventh round, Sandel launched a fierce attack in order to show the spirit he didn't actually have. Tom knows what's going on--

This bluffing trick is as old as boxing itself. In order to save himself, he scrambled up, then let go, letting Sandel open the formation. This is exactly what he couldn't ask for. He pretended to use his left fist to attack, causing Sandel to bow his head for a flash, and then took a half step back, hitting the face with his right fist and hitting the face, causing Sandel to fall onto the mat. Later, he never allowed Sandel to rest. Although he himself was hit hard, he hit much more often. He hit Sandel leaning on the rope, punching him up and down with various punches, and then broke free. When Sandel was about to fall down, he would use his raised hand to support him, and immediately beat him with the other hand. Lean on the rope and don't fall down.

At this time, the audience went crazy and became Tom King's world. Almost everyone was shouting "Come on, Tom!" "Beat him! Break him!" "You have won, Tom! You have won!" !" The game is about to end under a whirlwind attack, and this is what the audience paid to watch here.

Tom King, who had kept his strength for half an hour, now used all his strength at once. This is his only chance-if he doesn't win now, he can't win at all. His energy was consumed very quickly, and he only hoped that before the last bit of energy was used up, the opponent could not get up. Therefore, while he continued to attack, he calmly estimated the weight of his fists and the damage they caused, only to see that Sandel was a very difficult person to defeat. His stamina and endurance are simply extreme, this is the youth's untouched stamina and endurance. Sandel must be a prosperous player. He is a born boxer. Only with such a tough material can a successful fighter be created.

Sandel was already shaking and unsteady, but Tom's leg was twitching, and his knuckles were aching. But he still gritted his teeth and beat hard, each time his hand hurts terribly. Now, although he didn't actually get a punch, his strength was weakening as quickly as the opponent. He hit the key every time, but he didn't have the same weight as before, and every punch had to go through great efforts. His legs are as heavy as lead, and he can see that they are dragging around; therefore, the person who placed the bet on Sandel was very happy to see this situation, and loudly encouraged Sandel.

This kind of situation stimulated Tom to have a vigor. He hit two punches in a row-his left punch hit the celiac nerve plexus, slightly higher, and his right punch hit the chin horizontally. These two punches were not heavy, but Sandel, who was already in a coma and weak, had fallen, lying on the mat shivering. The referee watched him and counted the seconds of life and death loudly to his ears. If he doesn't get up before the count to ten seconds, he loses. The audience stood silently. Tom King's legs trembled, barely supporting him. He felt a violent dizziness, the audience's face was like a sea, undulating in front of him, and the referee's counting voice seemed to be coming to his ears from a long distance. But he thought he was determined to win. It is impossible for a person who has received so many punches to stand up.

Only young people could stand up, and Sandel finally stood up. When he counted to four, he turned over, face down, blindly groping for the ropes. When he counted to seven, he dragged his body up, kneeled on one leg, resting while shaking his head as if drunk. By the time the referee yelled "Nine", Sandel had stood up straight. Take a proper parry posture, protect your face with your left arm and your stomach with your right arm. After he had guarded the vital point, he swayed towards Tom, hoping to hug him together in order to buy time.

When Sandel came together, Tom King began to attack. Unexpectedly, the two punches he hit were blocked by the parry arm. Then, Sandel twisted with him and fought him desperately. The referee took a lot of effort. Just pulled them away. Tom also helped to get rid of himself. He knew that the youth recovered quickly, and knew that as long as he could not allow Sandel to recover, Sandel would be defeated by him. Just a hard punch is enough. Sandel has been defeated by his hands, this is no doubt. He has surpassed him in strategy and tactics and has the upper hand. Tom King got rid of the scramble and swayed, his success or failure was in the middle of nowhere. Just a good punch can knock him down and kill him. Tom King felt a sudden grief, and thought of that steak to support him with this necessary blow. How great it would be! He gathered his strength and punched, but the weight was not heavy enough, and the shot was not fast enough. Sandel swayed, didn't fall, and staggered back to the rope to support it. Tom King hobbled after him, endured the sharp pain as if he was about to disintegrate, and punched again. But his body no longer obeyed the command. He only had a consciousness left to fight, but due to excessive fatigue, even this consciousness was very vague. He hit his chin with this punch, but it only hit the shoulder. He wanted to play higher, but his tired muscles didn't obey the command. At the same time, he himself was affected by the force of the punch, staggering back, almost falling down. Then he barely punched again. This time it was almost completely lost. Because of the extreme weakness of his body, he fell on Sandel and hugged him so as not to fall.

Tom didn't want to break free at all. He has run out of strength. He collapsed. Young people always have a way. Even when he was wrestling, he felt that Sandel's physical strength had become stronger than him. When the referee pulled them away, what he saw was a young man who had recovered physically. Sandel became stronger moment by moment. His fist was still limp at first and didn't work. Now it has become hard and accurate. Tom's dim eyes saw his gloved fist hitting his chin, and he planned to raise his arm to protect it. He saw the danger and was ready to do so, but his arm was too heavy. It is as heavy as a block of lead over a hundred pounds. It can't be lifted automatically, so he concentrated his will to lift this arm desperately. At this time, the gloved fist had hit him. He felt a kind of violent pain as if hit by electric fire, and at the same time, when his eyes went dark, he knew nothing.

When he opened his eyes again, he was already sitting in his corner, only hearing the shouts of the audience like the stormy waves of Bondi Beach. The back of his head was pressed against a damp sponge, and Sid Sullivan was spraying cold water on his face and chest to wake him up. His gloves have been taken off, and Sandel is bending over and shaking hands with him. He didn't hate the man who knocked him out at all, so he shook hands with him enthusiastically, holding his broken knuckles so much that he couldn't bear it. Then Sandel walked into the fighting arena, and the audience stopped the noise and listened to him. He accepted the challenge of the young Pronto, and proposed to increase the bet over the normal bet to one hundred pounds. Tom listened indifferently, when his assistants wiped the sweat off his body and dried his face so that he could play. He feels very hungry. This is not the usual feeling of hunger with a painful stomach, but a kind of extreme weakness, a feeling of heart throbbing that spreads throughout the body. He recalled the moment when Sandel faltered and was about to fail during the game. Alas, a steak is worth it! The final punch ~www.mtlnovel.com~ lacked this steak, and now he has lost. It's all because of that steak.

His assistants supported him and helped him get through the rope. He broke free of their hands, lowered his head and drilled through the rope, jumped heavily to the floor, and followed the assistants who were squeezing a way out of the congested central aisle for him. When he left the locker room and went to the street, a young man in the lobby said a few words to him.

"Why didn't you knock him down when he was in your palm just now?" the young man asked.

"Fuck you!" Tom King said, walking down the steps and onto the sidewalk.

On the corner of the street, the door of the hotel opened wide. He saw the lights and the smiling waitresses. He heard many people talking about the game. He also heard the sound of money clanging on the counter. Someone called him to have a drink. It can be seen that he hesitated, then declined and continued walking.

He didn't even have a copper plate in his pocket, and the two-mile journey home seemed extremely long. He is indeed old. As he walked through Taomen Park, he suddenly sat down on a stool dejectedly, because he remembered that his wife was sitting waiting for him, waiting to hear the results of the boxing. This is heavier than any deadly fist, and it is simply unbearable.

He felt that he was very weak, his body was aching everywhere, and the broken knuckles were also very aching. They were warning him that even if he found a rough job, he would have to wait a week before he could hold a hoe. Or shovel. The throbbing feeling of hunger made him vomit. The miserable mood overwhelmed him. Unusual tears welled up in his eyes. He covered his face with his hands, crying, and remembering how he treated Stoshle Bill that night long ago. Poor old Stocher Bill! Now he understood why Bill was crying in the locker room.

(Translated by Yu Ning)

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Chapter end