Ficool

Chapter 3 - Chapter 3: The Alcoholic Father

After carefully studying the system interface, Jason Luo fell silent. The system's evaluation was blunt: he was nothing more than a novice in boxing.

Although the attribute values didn't show what the maximum or average numbers were, the fact that the evaluation specifically mentioned Toughness suggested that this attribute was above average. From this, Jason figured the average entry level for a boxer should be around six or seven.

But even if six was the standard, he still had seven attributes below that baseline—especially Boxing Technique, which was far too low.

Fortunately, the system had rewarded him with three free attribute points. He considered using them to raise his Boxing Technique first, but then he hesitated. Strength and stamina he could improve on his own through training. But Reaction, Dodge & Anticipation, and Punch Speed required professional guidance and equipment—things he didn't have. That was the real challenge.

Maybe it was better to hold off for now. Even with those three points, he'd still just be a novice. At least with the system, he could clearly see where he was weak.

He listed Boxing Technique, Footwork, Reaction, and Dodge & Anticipation in his mind, planning to focus on those areas in training. When sparring with Reches, he began consciously trying to dodge, using Footwork to create distance.

But the results weren't good. Reches' punches were too fast. Sometimes Jason's prediction was wrong; other times he guessed right, but his body was too slow to react. He was always just half a beat behind, and Reches' punches left his face bruised and swollen.

After a few rounds, Reches noticed something was off.

"Haha, what's this? You're not defending anymore—you're trying to practice dodging?"

Jason Luo pressed an ice pack to his face and nodded. "I wanted to give it a try."

"Hahaha…" Reches burst out laughing. "Jason, listen. The idea's good, but it doesn't suit you. Your coordination and Reaction are too poor. You'd be better off focusing on defense and relying on your toughness to withstand the hits. Look at yourself—I almost feel bad hitting you…"

Jason muttered irritably, "Cut it out—I could tell you were enjoying it. The more you hit me, the more excited you got."

Caught off guard, Reches gave an awkward smile, then slung an arm around Jason's neck and sat beside him. "Ha, buddy, I'm starting to like you more and more. I'm not bragging, but in the amateur scene I've got a bit of a reputation as a heavy hitter. The fact that you can take so many of my punches is impressive. Don't worry—I'll look after you. I'm not changing training partners."

Jason, having grown up in the U.S., knew how easily people liked to exaggerate their achievements. Reches' rear heavy punch did have power, but the fact Jason could take it meant it was at most an eight on the scale. That was slightly above average, sure, but calling himself "well-known" in the amateur circuit was pushing it.

As for the promise of a stable job, Jason wasn't thrilled. Who wanted to stay a conditioning sparring partner forever? He had already decided: he would improve quickly and become a proper sparring partner.

Since Dodge & Anticipation training wasn't going well, Jason shifted his focus to Boxing Technique. Fortunately, the gym had punching bags everywhere. Using tutorial videos on his phone, he practiced on his own.

But after two days, there was still no improvement. His Boxing Technique stats hadn't budged. Jason wasn't discouraged, though; he knew progress wouldn't come easily. While he was training, Raul quietly walked up behind him, watched for a while, then shook his head, frowned, and patted Jason on the shoulder.

"Stop for a second. Training like this won't help. How about this—if you pay me fifty dollars, I'll guide you."

Jason was surprised to see Raul, but his words made him hesitate. Fifty dollars wasn't much, but he only made sixty a day as a sparring partner. Still, in the U.S., help usually came with a price tag—that was normal.

"Alright, Mr. Raul. If I earned more, I'd gladly give you a hundred."

Raul smiled. "Don't worry. As long as you keep working hard, you'll make good money one day. But right now, your training's wrong. Your punches need to sync with your breathing, and you have to master how to generate power. Watch—like this, using the waist…"

After Raul's patient explanation and demonstration, Jason finally understood. With these techniques, he felt a clear difference when hitting the bag. His punches were faster, sharper, and more powerful. It was clear how much of a difference proper guidance made.

Seeing that Jason had grasped the basics, Raul nodded with satisfaction and turned to leave. "Alright, keep practicing this way. Twenty minutes per set, no less than four sets a day. I'll deduct the money from tomorrow's pay."

As Raul started walking away, Jason hurried after him. "Mr. Raul, could you guide me more in the future? I need help in other areas too…"

Raul shrugged and cut him off. "Jason, you're ambitious, but I can't help you. In your situation, you need a professional boxing coach. But they charge a lot. Think it through."

Jason was left speechless. Think it through? He didn't even have the right to think about it. With his meager income, how could he afford a professional coach? Not to mention his family situation…

After training all afternoon, Jason hurried home. It was almost the end of the month, and before welfare payments arrived, his father often caused trouble when he couldn't afford alcohol.

Sure enough, Jason found his father, Henry Luo, at a familiar bar, quarreling with the staff. When they saw Jason, they sighed in relief. "You're just in time. Take your father home. He's out of money but still wants more drinks. He's putting us in a tough spot."

"Alright, we'll leave. Sorry for the trouble." Jason helped his father up, but Henry, still craving more alcohol, refused to go, shouting, "Give me wine! I'm not leaving! Give me a bottle of wine…"

The moment Henry saw money, though, his eyes lit up. He snatched it away. "Hahaha, money! Wait—where did you get this? Got more? Hand it over, now!"

Like a madman, he grabbed at Jason, searching him all over. The three hundred dollars Jason had saved in the past few days were all taken. "So I don't even have money for a drink, and you're hiding this much? Did you steal it? Got more? Give it to me!"

Under everyone's gaze, Jason's face burned with shame. He shouted, "That's all! It's my wages from work!"

But Henry slapped him across the face. "Liar! You don't earn wages. There's more! Hand it over, or I'll beat you to death…" He clawed and struck at Jason wildly.

Humiliation and frustration welled up, but Jason could do nothing. He could only crouch down, clutching his head, tears in his eyes, while Henry raged.

Finally, someone couldn't stand watching anymore. A Chinese-American man in his forties stepped in, pulling Henry away. "Stop it! Keep this up and the police will show up!"

But Henry, half drunk, spat, "I'm beating my own son. None of your business! I don't fear the police!"

Then he lunged again—but slipped, crashed into Jason's leg, and passed out.

Startled, Jason and the man quickly checked him. Finding no injuries, they realized he had just blacked out from drinking. They breathed a sigh of relief.

The man pulled a business card from his pocket. "I'm David Miao, a doctor. Don't worry—I checked him. He's fine, just passed out drunk. Here's my number. If there's a problem, call me."

Jason flushed with embarrassment. "No, Mr. Miao, really—it wasn't your concern. Thank you for helping. My father often faints like this. It's fine—he'll sleep it off."

Miao frowned. "Often? That's not good. Your father has severe alcohol dependence. If this continues, his life could be at risk. On top of that, he's violent when drunk. You'd better get him into rehab soon."

Jason was shaken. But hospitals wouldn't admit someone like his father, and he couldn't afford it anyway.

Seeing Jason lower his head in silence, Miao sighed. "Having an alcoholic father is tough. But listen, I know a government program for this exact problem. Usually, in three months, the addiction can be treated. It costs around eight thousand dollars—not much—and U.S. citizens can apply. If you want, I can help connect you."

Hope flickered in Jason's eyes. This was a lifeline. If it meant curing his father, he'd do anything—even the unthinkable.

"Mr. Miao—no, Mr. Miao—thank you. My name's Jason, though back home they call me Jay. I want to join. I'll raise the money and contact you as soon as I can."

Miao looked at Jason as if he wanted to say more, but held back. He nodded, helped lift Henry onto Jason's back, and watched as Jason carried his father away, slowly disappearing into the distance…

---

For more chapters and to support the series, follow me on Ptreon (40+ Chapters Ahead!)

p-atreon.com/GhostParser (remove the dash in "p-atreon" to access the site)

More Chapters