Cobra Kai: Under the Cobra Emblem

After deciding to participate in the All Valley Tournament, Max devoted even more time to his training.

The All Valley Tournament was an excellent promotional platform.

During the competition, various martial arts promotion companies focused on the event to scout promising newcomers to train, treating it almost like a talent or beauty contest.

Max not only aimed to achieve great results in the competition but also to demonstrate his immense potential, hoping to attract major promotion companies to collaborate with Cobra Kai.

The better his performance, the larger the signing bonuses he could receive, which is why he was determined to give his all.

During his training period, many events took place in different areas where members of the dojo made their presence felt.

After his daily training sessions, Max visited various places to enjoy time with his friends and make the rigorous schedule more bearable.

At one such festival, he heard about Daniel's dojo promoting itself, which unsettled many who simply wanted to train without unnecessary interference.

Max couldn't afford to get involved in these petty rivalries. His focus had to remain on elevating his uncle's martial arts school and strengthening himself to win the tournament Robert had told him about.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

Max clenched his fists and struck the punching bag with force, his hands wrapped only in cloth. After two hours, his shirt was drenched in sweat and clung to his muscular back, clearly outlining his defined physique.

Over ten days of relentless gym training without extended rest, his muscles had become even firmer and more robust—pectoral muscles, shoulder blades, biceps, and abs were all prominently defined, as if chiseled from iron.

Miguel often urged him to eat more meat and retain some body fat, arguing that fighters needed thicker waists and that looking like a bodybuilder served no practical purpose in combat, where opponents were fighters, not models.

Naturally, Max didn't listen.

In the Internet age, a fighter with an impressive, visually striking physique could attract more attention, increase online traffic, and draw larger audiences, ticket sales, and competition prizes.

For a fighter, good looks and a strong body constituted a form of visual power. He had learned this from his dates with Zara, a martial artist who was famous on social media.

"Max, take a break. If you keep this up, we'll be dead by the end of the day," Ryan said, sitting on the floor, panting, surrounded by sweat.

"Yeah, Max, we heard that the competition Ryan is organizing starts soon. If you plan to participate, you shouldn't overdo your training—you could get injured," Miguel added, wiping sweat from his trembling arms as he leaned against the floor.

"You guys rest. I'll keep training a little longer," Max said, continuing to pound the bag.

"Max, you can't keep doing this. You're too hard on yourself. If you keep pushing, how can we rest? We're a team; we can't let you shoulder this alone," Hawk said, his expression full of concern.

Miguel nodded fervently.

Before Max focused solely on his training, everyone believed that three or four hours of daily training were enough. After training, they'd attend parties, flirt with girls, or swim in pools, enjoying full and satisfying days.

The atmosphere in the gym had been harmonious.

But after Max resumed his grueling training regimen, which he had followed daily before coming to the country, the mood changed entirely.

With Max training more than six hours a day, no one felt comfortable resting while watching their friend push himself.

Now, everyone trained alongside Max; if he trained for six hours, they did too. Training less made them feel uneasy, as though they were underestimating their potential.

However, six hours of daily training was too intense. Every day, they returned home exhausted, their backs aching, their legs cramping, and they had no energy for anything besides sleep—not even flirting with girls at school.

It was a miserable existence.

Ryan gritted his teeth and endured for a week, feeling utterly drained.

But he had no plans to stop.

If Max, who had the makings of a champion, kept training relentlessly, how could he, being far less talented, simply lie down and rest?

Wouldn't that be like admitting he thought himself better than Max?

Ryan and the others faced a dilemma: Should they keep up with Max? Their bodies couldn't handle it. Should they quit? They weren't willing to give up.

Caught between physical exhaustion and mental determination, the group closely following Max felt compelled to suggest other activities to balance their days.

"Hey, Max, what's going on with Zara?"

"Do you have a girlfriend yet?"

"I could introduce you to someone; I think her name is Moon," Ryan said, referring to his close friend.

Miguel glanced at Ryan, wondering if it was wise to distract their friend who was so deeply focused on his training.

"Guys, you know I've been training since I was a kid. I've only recently resumed my usual routine because I have goals to achieve. You should find your own path. Don't compare yourselves to others—the real opponent to beat is the weaker version of yourselves," Max said.

His words struck a chord with everyone, making them realize the truth they had been avoiding.

Those who felt weaker than Max stopped feeling that way.

It was true: there was no need to compare themselves to their friend when they were all on their own journeys of self-improvement within Cobra Kai.