Bloodhounds.s01.480p.web-dl.hin-eng-kor.x264.ms... -

The fight that followed wasn’t beautiful. It wasn’t like the movies. Geon-woo took a pipe to the ribs and heard something crack. Min-jae’s left eyebrow split open like a dropped egg. They fought back-to-back, using boxing footwork to dance through the wreckage of broken mirrors and overturned benches. When it was over, five of Choi’s men were unconscious, one was limping away, and the two bloodhounds were kneeling in a pool of sweat, blood, and shattered plaster.

Min-jae nodded slowly. “Then we run again.”

“What now?” Min-jae asked.

That was their contract. No lawyers. No cops. Just two bloodhounds, noses to the ground, tracking the scent of injustice through the back alleys of Incheon. The first fight was behind a fish market. Three of Choi’s collectors, all bulk and no technique. Geon-woo dropped the first with a liver shot that folded him like cardboard. Min-jae handled the second with a brutal right cross. The third ran—straight into a stack of crab traps. Easy. Bloodhounds.S01.480p.WEB-DL.HIN-ENG-KOR.x264.MS...

The giant stepped forward. Min-jae met him. The fight was short and ugly—Min-jae took three punches that should have killed a normal man, but he kept coming, wrapping the giant in a clinch, biting an ear, doing anything to survive. Geon-woo, ribs screaming, ducked under Choi’s wild golf swing and landed two perfect punches: a jab to the throat, a cross to the temple.

Sirens in the distance. Someone had finally called the police.

They limped toward the stairwell, two bloodhounds who had found their scent and refused to let go—not for money, not for glory, but for the simple, brutal truth that some debts can only be paid with knuckles and loyalty. The fight that followed wasn’t beautiful

By week two, they’d taken three of his collection crews, returning seized property to old shopkeepers who wept with disbelief. By week three, Geon-woo’s mother was crying too—not from pain, but from fear. “Stop,” she whispered over the phone. “He’ll kill you.”

But Choi wasn’t a man who lost pawns quietly.

“Two dogs with rabies,” Choi said, almost admiringly. “You could have worked for me.” Min-jae’s left eyebrow split open like a dropped egg

“You’re thinking too loud,” said Min-jae, wrapping his own hands across the bench. “I can hear you from here.”

“We work for people you crushed,” Geon-woo said.

Choi did try. He sent six men to the gym at midnight. Baseball bats. Steel pipes. No rules.

“He can try,” Geon-woo replied. But his voice cracked.

Min-jae laughed—a wet, broken sound. “Still standing?”