MMA System: I Will Be Pound For Pound Goat

Chapter 253 Beginning Of A Legend I

Kru Wichan walked up to Damon with a cool, authoritative air. He walked slowly and deliberately, and each step seemed to weigh Damon down before he even spoke.

He wasn't as big as Damon, but his presence was huge and filled the room with the kind of feeling that you had to respect him.

As he reached them, his sharp eyes flickered toward Nok, and a warm smile softened his otherwise stern features. "Nok," he said in a gravelly but kind voice, inclining his head slightly.

Nok smiled back and offered a quick greeting in Thai, her tone warm and familiar.

Kru Wichan gave a nod and then looked straight at Damon. As he looked over Damon's body, his face changed into a sharp look.

He moved closer and slowly went around Damon. He looked him in the eyes, but Damon stood tall and kept his cool.

Kru Wichan stopped in front of him and gave him a nod of approval.

"Very nice," he said in his accented English, his words slow and deliberate. "You... must be Damon Crozz." The pronunciation was slightly off, but his voice carried respect.

Damon nodded, offering a polite smile. "Yes, sir. That's me."

Kru Wichan tilted his head, his expression neutral but his eyes still studying Damon as though trying to peel away his layers. "Victor and somchai... say you good. Strong. But I will see," he said, tapping his temple with a knowing grin.

Kru Wichan's smile faded as he turned to Nok and spoke in Thai, his tone calm but inquisitive.

"Ph̀x k̄hxng khuṇ xyū̀ thī̀h̄ịn"

(Where is your father?)

Damon raised an eyebrow, his curiosity piqued. He couldn't understand the words, but the tone was clear enough to catch his attention.

He glanced at Nok, silently hoping for some kind of translation.

Nok rolled her eyes slightly and replied in Thai, her tone lighter. "Pĥx b̂xk h̄ı̂ c̄hạn pl̀xy k̄heā ẁāy kạb khuṇ"

('He said to leave him with you.')

Damon tilted his head, trying to piece together what was being said.

He had a growing sense that he'd have to start learning the language sooner rather than later.

Nok turned to Damon and translated loosely, "He's leaving you in his care."

Wichan let out a sharp exhale, his smile collapsing into a deadpan look. "Xị̂ b̂ā,"('Idiot.') he muttered under his breath as he shook his head slightly.

It was simple, modest, and uncluttered, just the basics.

The bed was small but sturdy, with neatly folded sheets, and a desk sat tucked into the corner.

What drew his attention most, though, was the wide window panel that spanned one wall.

It framed a peaceful view of nature, lots of trees and a body of water that sparkled in the afternoon sun.

Due to the view, the room seemed bigger and calmer than it really was.

He sighed softly, feeling a brief wave of calm. "Not bad," he muttered to himself.

Setting his bag on the bed, Damon unzipped it and began pulling out his belongings.

He laid out his training attire, a fitted sleeveless shirt, shorts, and wraps for his hands.

Each item was neatly placed on the bed in preparation.

As he worked, he let his thoughts wander. He could still hear faint echoes of the rhythmic "ha!" and the heavy thuds from the training area, a reminder of what lay ahead.

A slight smirk crossed his face as he glanced toward the window one more time.

"Alright," he said under his breath, rolling his shoulders. "Time to see what Kru Wichan's got for me."

With his training clothes ready, Damon began to change.

Damon stepped out of the room, adjusting his hand wraps as he walked.

As he walked toward the training area, the steady thuds of punches, elbows, and kicks got stronger.

He looked at Kru Wichan, who was working hard on the heavy bag in a way that seemed almost supernatural.

Kru Wichan's moves were smooth but powerful, and each hit was the perfect mix of force and accuracy.

His fists snapped forward in rapid combos, the bag jerking violently with every hit.

A sharp left hook followed by a brutal low kick sent the bag swinging, the chain above creaking under the strain.

Damon paused, momentarily entranced.

He'd seen Kru Somchai train before, but Wichan's technique had a different flavor, a raw aggression tempered by unshakable discipline.