He spoke, subtly dabbing at the beads of sweat on his forehead, silently praying that the students wouldn't drop out because of the outcome of the match.

A female spectator excitedly shouted, "That man is so handsome! His drenched hair and wet shirt really show off his chest muscles. So sexy!"

Her comment immediately resonated with the other female spectators, who began to buzz about Connor's attractiveness and allure.

Connor, however, didn't catch any of their comments.

Alan grabbed a towel and a bottle of water and ran up to the boxing ring to hand them to him.

He wiped his sweat and took several large gulps of water.

"Next!" he panted.

The gym owner told an assistant nearby, "Set it up right away."

Under Alan's rational and emotional persuasion, Connor finally put on his protective gear.

He fought several bouts in a row.

He was like an enraged beast, throwing punches wildly without any technique.

Connor's sparring partners couldn't withstand his reckless style; no matter how well they defended, they still took quite a few hits.

Outside the ring, the gym owner wondered if Mr. Connor had been struck by some personal dilemma.

Alan pondered and decided to make a call.

***

Camila was sleeping soundly when the incessant ringing of the phone woke her.

Annoyed by the shrill sound, she frowned slightly and reached for the phone on her nightstand.

Alan's calm voice came through, "Camila, sorry to disturb you."

His voice was like a splash of cold water, making Camila instantly more alert.

She rubbed her eyes, her tone tinged with anxiety. "Alan, what's wrong?"

"Can come to the boxing gym?" Alan's voice carried a note of concern.

Camila was startled, sitting up quickly in bed. "What's happened?"

"Mr. Connor has been in the boxing ring for several hours now, and he refuses to step down. I'm worried about his endurance," Alan reported truthfully. A sense of urgency struck Camila.

Without a second thought, she quickly got dressed in casual loungewear, tied her hair up simply, and hurried downstairs.

The security guard at the door saw her rushing out so late and couldn't help asking, "Ms. Camila, are you going out this late?"

"Yes, it's urgent," Camila replied briefly, glancing at the time-it was 1:18 AM.

Her anxiety deepened.

A few minutes later, the driver arrived, and she immediately opened the car door and got in.

Twenty minutes later, she

arrived at the boxing gym and ran upstairs.

When she pushed open the large doors of the gym, she immediately saw Connor.

He was in the boxing ring, exchanging blows with his opponent, looking exhausted. Sweat was dripping from his forehead, and his black shirt was already soaked. Camila rushed to Alan's side, her eyes full of worry, and asked breathlessly, "What happened to him?"

Alan shook his head.

Connor hadn't noticed Camila's arrival and was still immersed in his own world.

He was visibly exhausted, having been hit several times already.

"Stop him from fighting," Camila said urgently to the referee, who looked at her and then at Alan.

Alan nodded in confirmation

and the referee blew the whistle.

Connor completely ignored the whistle and didn't stop at all.

He was hit hard in the face by his opponent's punch.

It was hard to tell if it was sweat or blood that splattered.

Camila screamed in fright.

"Connor!"

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