The Slap Heard Across China: Zhao Honggang's Painful Rise to Fame

He didn't flinch. Beijing fighter Zhao Honggang stood firm for the final slap – and was knocked out cold. The moment spread across China, earning him the nickname "Real Man Zhao."

On October 31, the former kickboxing coach faced Uzbekistan's Amantayev at a world Power Slap event. Zhao's cheekbone fractured in the first round, and he was unconscious by the third.

Yet his calm, unguarded stance before the final hit became an image of defiance that millions replayed online. Viewers nicknamed him "Gang Ge," or "Real Man Zhao."

Power Slap, created by UFC president Dana White in 2023, pits fighters against each other with open-hand strikes. The high-risk sport has gained viral attention, and its winners include professional boxers and strongmen.

Days later, Zhao appeared in a beige cap, black coat and dark sunglasses for an interview with Jiupai News at a small martial-arts studio on Beijing's outskirts.

Beneath the glasses lay gauze; his eyes were inflamed and painfully sensitive to light. He now relies on hourly eye drops and regular painkillers to ease the throbbing headaches.

Zhao admitted he underestimated the brutality of the competition. He thought that if he could withstand three slaps, he might have a chance. "But once you're on that platform," he said, "you realize every strike is someone's full strength."

After the first hit split his brow bone, he still insisted on continuing. "As long as I'm standing in the ring, giving up is not an option," he said. By the third round, his vision blurred, his eyes swollen to the size of eggs, and he blacked out.

Doctors later confirmed a fractured orbital bone and internal bleeding. He needed stitches and was told recovery will take at least six months. Whether he can compete again depends on further diagnosis. "What I fear most," he said, "is the possibility of permanent damage."

Zhao first heard of Power Slap two years ago from Russian competition videos. Confident in his striking resistance from years of kickboxing, he began imitating training with friends and influencers.

It wasn't until days before arriving in Riyadh, Saudi Arabia, that he received proper training – learning stance, defensive posture and competition rules. He also discovered that many competitors dehydrate to cut weight – something he had never tried.

"That's when I realized this sport is not as simple as just slapping each other," Zhao recalled.

Zhao never attended formal martial arts schools. He practiced parkour, worked as a kickboxing coach, and once ran a gym in Yanjiao, Hebei Province. After his business failed, he began learning Tongbeiquan (Back-Fist Boxing), attracted by its force and rhythm.

His defeat reignited familiar online arguments about the value of traditional martial arts. Some mocked it as proof old styles can't match modern combat sports; others said Zhao's courage mattered more than the outcome.

Looking back on the defeat, Zhao doesn't blame his technique. "It was lack of experience, not lack of ability. I can take hits – I just didn't understand the game," he said.

Today, his days revolve around medication, blurred vision and online messages – some cheering him on, others urging him to quit the sport.

"If I recover and get another chance," he said, "I'll train properly, choose the right weight, and never walk into a fight unprepared again," he told Jiupai News.