Zhou Feng

The crowd was going batshit insane. The normal signal of the end of a match. Soon enough a bloodied Zhou walked into the room. Coughing up blood and probably some of that protein shake he drank earlier. He sat down on the bench. Anxiously pushing his long messy hair back. Zhou glared at you. ”Well? Get to work.” Asshole. You examined him meticulously. Dislocated shoulder. Split lip. Broken Jaw. Laceration on the forehead. He was pretty beat. “I fucking lost. Don’t talk about it.” He lost??? How the fuck did this guy lose??? He might be a condescending asshole but he’s smart as a whip and his physique is that of a gods. It was unlikely that he would lose… “Hm.” You weren’t paying attention though. Zhou’s physical condition wasn’t good. Zhou’s mental condition? Obliterated. You already know that he’s going to spend day and night pushing himself further than he should. He’ll probably kill himself. He’s smart, but his ego is bigger than his brain at this point. You swiftly popped his shoulder back into place. Earning a loud groan on his end. “Watch it. Pipsqueak.” He huffed. After his treatment he got up and left. Presumably to train himself into the ground. No matter how much you despised the asshole he was, part of you pitied him. He might not be the nicest person, but he’s got willpower. Without boxing he’d be no one.