The American TV series "Four-Round Boxing Champion Starts with Shameless"

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In his last moments before losing consciousness, Victor remembered the white kid—'Karl Gallagher'. He felt the cold tiles against his swollen cheeks and smelled the pungent odor of bleach, blood, and urine.

The security guard outside kicked open the toilet door and saw only a big, dark-skinned man standing there, while the rest of the people were lying on the ground covered in blood.

The security guard instantly drew his weapon and pointed it at the big, dark-skinned man.

"Put your hands up!"

······

The sound of sirens shattered the afternoon tranquility of Oak Ridge.

Officer Rodriguez slammed on the brakes in the parking lot on the east side of the campus, leaving two shallow marks on the asphalt pavement from the tires.

As he opened the car door, the metal badge reflected a blinding light in the sunlight.

She cursed under her breath, adjusting the pistol at her waist. "Another case of school bullying? This time it's really big."

Deputy Sheriff Keith climbed out of the passenger seat and straightened the collar of his dark blue uniform.

He was half a head taller than Rodriguez, and fine beads of sweat were already seeping from his dark skin.

"I heard that some students were injured, and three ambulances have already arrived."

The two quickly walked through the crowd of students watching. Inside the yellow warning line, medical staff were busy treating the injured.

Rodriguez's sharp eyes quickly swept across the scene—scattered schoolbags, a pair of broken glasses, several shocking bloodstains on the cement ground, and a tuft of yellow hair with scalp attached stuck to the edge of the drain.

"Jesus Christ,"

Keith gasped. "This isn't your average fight."

Over the next twenty minutes, Rodriguez and Keith interviewed eyewitnesses and participants separately.

The situation is gradually becoming clear:

Six students had been bullying a Chinese student named Victor Lee for a long time. Mark Williams, the son of a school board member, led the violence. But no one expected that the seemingly weak fat boy would fight back, and with precision. The three attackers are now lying on stretchers, with Mark unconscious and doctors initially diagnosing him with a mild concussion.

“It looks like self-defense,”

Keith closed the notebook, his voice softening. "Six against one, victim fought back, a clear case of self-defense, and a Black witness."

Rodriguez was about to ask further questions when a series of hurried footsteps interrupted him.

Principal Howard jogged over, followed by a middle-aged man in a sharp suit with a stern face.

"Officers,"

The principal wiped the sweat from his brow. "This is Mr. Williams, a member of our school's board of directors. His son, Mark, is one of the victims..."

"victim?"

Rodriguez raised his eyebrows. "Based on the testimony we have gathered so far, Mark Williams is the primary perpetrator."

Mr. Williams' face flushed instantly: "Ridiculous! My son is the captain of the school's football team, and he's an excellent student! It must have been that yellow-skinned monkey who provoked him!"

Keith cleared his throat and stepped forward: "Sir, we have multiple eyewitnesses who can confirm—"

"They're all delinquents!"

Williams rudely interrupted, "Principal Howard, I think this should be handled internally by the school. There's no need to take a minor squabble between children to the police station."

The principal nodded quickly: "Of course, of course. Officers, considering that those involved are all minors, the school has a well-established disciplinary committee that can handle these kinds of incidents."

He lowered his voice, “We are preparing to donate a batch of fitness equipment worth $50,000 to the police department. Your chief has agreed, believing that law enforcement officers need to be in good physical condition to better enforce the law.”

Rodriguez felt a surge of anger rising in his chest.

He noticed that Deputy Sheriff Keith's expression had become hesitant—as one of the few senior female officers in the department, Keith had always carefully balanced various relationships.

Rodriguez turned to Keith, his voice deliberately steady, "This involves bodily harm, especially since the victim is currently unconscious and likely has a concussion. According to procedure, we must—"

"Officer Rodriguez,"

The principal suddenly interrupted, a forced smile plastered on his face, "Mr. Williams is a member of the state education board and a golf buddy of the police chief. I believe we all want to resolve this misunderstanding in the best possible way, and we will give each student the best solution."

The atmosphere suddenly froze.

Rodriguez felt all eyes on him—the principal's fawning smile, Williams' arrogant gaze, Deputy Sheriff Keith's complicated look, and the Asian fat man still unconscious not far away.

“Last time you said it was ‘playing around between boys,’ and the time before that it was ‘cultural misunderstanding.’”

Rodriguez sneered, "Someone almost died."

Williams' face instantly darkened. He dialed a number and said '100,000' before Rodriguez and Keith answered the call.

Within five minutes, Keith ordered them to return.

Chapter 2 The Fat Guy Who Was Once a Jerk: The Chicago Typist

Lee Seung-ri (hereafter referred to as Victor Lee, or simply Victor) is in a coma.

Victor Lee felt like he was floating in the dark.

It wasn't ordinary darkness, but a viscous, almost tangible darkness that enveloped every inch of his skin like asphalt.

He felt as if his brain had been broken down into countless molecules and then violently reassembled—this made him realize that this was not good. His brain was already the kind that couldn't get into high school, and now it had been smashed again.

No, it wasn't pain, but something deeper—as if someone was rewriting his DNA.

"Hang in there, kid."

A distant voice echoed in the depths of his consciousness, "I left you a little gift before."

Victor tried to ask a question, but his lips—if he still had any—would not move.

The voice continued, "Steel bones, steel kidneys, rapid absorption... that's enough for you to survive in this wretched world. I have to go, there's nothing here! ...I see a light ahead, like a torch!"

The sound gradually faded away, replaced by a piercing metallic scraping sound.

Viktor felt himself being pulled by some force, through layer upon layer of darkness, until—

His back slammed heavily onto some hard surface.

Viktor suddenly opened his eyes, but the blinding light made him close them again immediately.

He was panting, his lungs aching as if they were being rubbed with sandpaper.

"Damn it..."

When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, Victor found himself lying in a cramped space—or more accurately, a converted shipping container.

Several yellowed posters were pasted on the rusty metal wall, and a mattress that could barely be called a bed was laid in the corner, on which he was lying.

The sound of rain hitting the metal ceiling was deafening, and the whole space was filled with the smell of mildew and cheap cleaning agents.

Victor tried to sit up, but found his body unusually heavy.

He looked down at his arms—they were still just as thick and strong!

Just like my own big belly and elephant legs.

However, compared to the more obvious feeling before, Victor could clearly feel strong muscles under one centimeter of fat—muscles capable of supporting his nearly 400-pound weight during normal people's violent exercise.

"This thing..."

He struggled to move to a broken mirror in the corner of the container, and even though it was the second time he had seen it, he could hardly recognize himself in the mirror.

His face still had his bone structure, but the contours were more rounded, so rounded that it resembled a fat pig!

Viktor's fragmented memories gradually came together:

Viktor always seemed a step slow on the uptake, but in reality, it was Lee Seung-ri who was constantly processing things. However, the system called 'Akabi-mei' left eighteen years ago, giving Viktor a body of genius-level talent.

Viktor's rapid absorption allows him to grow with only a small amount of matter. His steel-like body makes him impervious to blows, and he even grows a lot of fat. His steel kidneys also give him a 23-centimeter-long penis, which means that Viktor is always sent by his uncle to his aunt's house to freeload.

"Holy crap! I actually played Ya Zi?"

Victor slammed his fist into the container wall, the metal denting and groaning loudly.

"hiss·····"

Victor stared in shock at his fist—it hurt terribly; even someone with steel bones couldn't be Wolverine.

But this power is indeed very strong.

The rain outside grew heavier, and Victor suddenly felt an unbearable hunger and thirst.

His stomach rumbled in protest, and his throat was as dry as a desert.

He looked around; the container contained nothing but the bed and a plastic box full of dirty clothes.

Victor pushed open the container door forcefully, and the cold rain immediately hit his face, revealing the scene of Chicago's South Side:

A muddy path, a few rusty cars, and dilapidated apartment buildings faintly visible in the distance.

The most eye-catching building is the one on the right, painted a deep red, with a wooden sign that reads "Galag House" hanging crookedly on its porch.

Rainwater streamed down his neck and into his collar. Victor touched his pockets—they were empty.

No wallet, no phone, not even a damn coin.

His uncle had obviously abandoned him here to fend for himself, like dealing with an unwanted piece of furniture; only by surviving could he pimp out his business.

Viktor knew his uncle, who had done his best in this damn, black, rotten society, supporting his four children while also giving Viktor a place to stay in the South District.

He was a foreman at the dock, working the night shift, so he couldn't enter the house where only his aunt was at night.

Hunger struck again, this time more intensely, as if a million ants were gnawing at his stomach—his rapid absorption meant that Viktor couldn't hold any food in his belly.

Viktor's gaze involuntarily drifted towards the direction of the Gallagher's house—there were lights and the smell of food wafting from there.

He licked his chapped lips and made a decision.

As the rain pelted him, Victor was surprised to find that he could hardly feel the cold, his body temperature remaining at 37.2 degrees Celsius as he breathed heavily.

He trudged along the muddy path with heavy steps, each step leaving deep footprints in the soft, wet ground.

As he approached Gallagher's house, he could hear a cacophony of sounds coming from inside—the television, arguments, children's laughter—a chaotic yet vibrant symphony of life.

Viktor took a deep breath and raised his hand to knock on the door.

The door opened almost immediately, and a white boy with dreadlocks looked him over warily.

"Hi..."

Victor's voice was hoarse and unlike his own, but the moment he saw the dreadlocked white boy, it rose to a distorted, booming tone: "It's you!!!"