Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion

"Mr. Link Baker, may I have a word with you?"

At the east entrance of the Miami Arena, Link and James had just finished dinner and were coming back from outside when they heard a voice behind them.

The person speaking was a middle-aged man wearing a Polo shirt, with slight baldness on top.

His opening line was the same as Greg Cohen's, which made him mistakenly think the man was also from a marketing company, but he wasn't.

The man stepped forward to introduce himself as Joseph something—the agent of Andzeje Methodra.

Here, it should be mentioned that Andzeje Methodra was his opponent for the next match.

Soon after Link's match ended, the other three top-seed vs. second-seed matches also concluded.

Link, the first seed from the Southeast Division, vs. the second seed from the Western Division—Link won!

Andzeje Methodra from the Eastern Division vs. the second seed from the Northern Division—Andzeje won!

Andrea Berto from the Western Division vs. the second seed from the Eastern Division—Andrea Berto won!

Mitchell Robinson from the Northern Division vs. Jones Fullos, the second seed from the Southeast Division.

Jones Fullos won in an upset!

The first round of the competition concluded.

The second round's draw determined the opponents.

Since he and Jones Fullos were both from the Southeast Division, during the drawing, each drew an opponent, and he drew Andzeje Methodra, the champion from the Eastern Division.

Andzeje was a technical boxer—in amateur matches, due to the highly resilient sponge protection, it's extremely difficult to KO opponents, and technical boxers often have an easier time winning through scoring points compared to power and agility type boxers.

This is also why technical boxers are more sought after in amateur boxing circles, and why many power type boxers give up amateur competitions early to go professional.

Andzeje's boxing technique was exquisite, he stood at 189 centimeters tall, with a reach of 198 centimeters, and he had a fast punch speed. His movements resembled that of a praying mantis, often catching his opponent off guard with a sneak punch.

His weakness lay in not having a robust physique, less resistance to taking hits, and stamina that was inferior to first-class boxers.

In his last match, he had gone ten rounds with Calvin Pitts, the runner-up from the Northern Division, and exhausted a lot, needing assistance to leave the ring.

And his next opponent was none other than the famous ring anesthetist, Link Baker, a hexagonal boxer who combined strength, speed, technique, and looks.

One could imagine what the scene of their match would be like.

So now, the audience was eagerly anticipating the afternoon's match, wanting to see how Link stylishly KO'd his opponent.

Seeing Andzeje's agent seeking him out, Link was somewhat surprised and didn't understand the man's intention.

"Mr. Link Baker, here's the thing, I'd like to ask you to pull your punches a bit during the match, and not KO Andzeje within the first three rounds."

"What?"

Link was taken aback for a moment, then laughed and said, "You want me to go easy during a match? But this is an official competition, Mr. Joseph!"

"I understand, I understand. If Mr. Baker is willing to end the match after eight rounds, I'm ready to offer you thirty thousand US dollars as compensation," said the middle-aged man very politely.

Link raised his eyebrows, understanding that they were asking him to throw the match.

This sort of thing was all too common; whether in underground boxing or in the professional circuit, fixed fights were a thing.

He had been in many before and was quite familiar with this line of work. It was just unexpected to encounter it in the finals of the Golden Gloves Tournament, and surprising that such a request would be made.

He pondered for a moment, then told the man to wait and pulled James, who was still standing by, aside.

"James, I'm going to go back and get some sleep. You deal with this guy. Tell him that for thirty thousand US dollars I'll take Andzeje down in the third round, for forty thousand I'll take him down in the fourth, for a hundred thousand he falls in the tenth. The bottom line is fifty thousand US dollars. I won't do it for less than that."

James looked around cautiously, lowered his voice, and said, "Isn't this staging a fixed fight? I've heard that there's a lot of that in boxing, and it's really despicable. How can you be involved in something like that?"

Link shook his head, "A fixed fight means purposely losing the match, altering the outcome. We're not doing that; we're engaged in a fair trade. Think about it, I have a match tomorrow. The longer the fight with Andzeje goes, the more it drains me. So if he wants me to put off taking down Andzeje, he's got to compensate me for it."

James glanced at the middle-aged man nearby, "But why does he want to do that? What's the difference between a few rounds earlier or later?"

"Of course there's a difference. My punches are lethal. The longer one lasts against me, the stronger they appear to be. After it's covered by the media, the stats will look nicer. If I KO Andzeje in the first round, how would the media evaluate him? So, the money's well spent."

"But still, it's not a good thing. If the media finds out, could it blow up on you?" James asked, looking around nervously.

"Don't worry, just go ahead. I've got it covered," Link said with a smile.

After giving James a few more instructions, he yawned and went back to the resting room to sleep.

More than ten minutes later, James ran in, out of breath. His usually fluffy curly hair was wet with sweat, sticking to his forehead. It was unclear whether he was hot or scared, but he tiptoed to shut the door carefully and came over to wake up Link, who was feigning sleep.

"Link, fifty thousand US dollars, KO after the eighth round, should we agree?"

James asked in a low voice, swallowing.

Link, resting on his arm, thought for a moment, then nodded.

"Should I go collect the money, then?"

James took a couple of steps, then turned back and asked, "How about we go together?"

Link turned around, faced the wall, and pretended to snore, as a gentle door closing sound came from behind.

Half an hour later, Link had dozed off, and James dashed in clutching his stomach, his face flushed with a mix of three parts excitement and seven parts worry.

He locked the door of the resting room and took a parcel wrapped in waxed paper out of his stomach. He spread it out on the bench, revealing five stacks of green U.S. dollars.

Link stared, bewildered, "Where did you get the money?"

"Huh?"

James blinked his small eyes, "This is, just now Joseph, our transaction, that fifty thousand U.S. dollars, I just took it back."

"What Joseph? Who's Joseph? What transaction? Why would he give you so much money?" Link asked in surprise.

"...."

James was dumbfounded, rubbing his eyes with his fists, then staring at him, "Didn't you just ask me to go out, have you forgotten?"

"I didn't, stop talking nonsense, I was just sleeping, I don't know anything." Link said, eyes closed and shaking his head seriously.

James sat down on the floor with a thud, pointing at him with trembling fingers, "You, why are you doing this? You told me to do it, how can you deny it now?"

"I really don't know."

"No way, you clearly know, how can you say you don't know? I didn't want to do it, but you asked me to, and after I did, you say you don't know, that's not right."

James collapsed on the floor, his eyes reddening.

Link touched his forehead, feeling somewhat guilty but helpless, he said, "James, I am the person involved. There are things I should know, and things I shouldn't. I only know what I should know, I won't ask about what I shouldn't, do you understand?"

James blinked his small eyes; he wasn't dumb, just inexperienced with such matters. His mind couldn't quite make the leap. After a moment, he suddenly slapped his forehead, and said in shock, "I get it now, you mean, you earn the money, and I take the blame?"

"NoNoNo, we both make money, and besides, this is clean money, there won't be any problems."

Link grabbed a stack of money and threw it into the fatty's embrace.

In Miami, income tax, inheritance tax, and gift tax weren't collected; this place was both the trade center of commodities in America and a money-laundering center, fifty thousand was nothing here.

"The money's really clean?"

James, feeling the money burning his hands, watched as Link simply threw the rest of the money at him, telling him to take it home.

"No problem, even if there is a problem, I'll carry it, it has nothing to do with you, a small assistant. Go on out, I'm going to sleep some more," Link said, waving his hand dismissively.

James wiped the sweat from his brow, stuffed the money into his bag, and hid it inside his belly, hesitant and stammering as he left the room.

——

"That fatso has been sneaking around here a few times, hiding something in his belly, what are they up to?"

From the doorway of the room next door, a fierce-looking face peered through the crack at James's retreating figure, confusion spreading across his features.

"Could Link... be taking drugs?"

Mario's pupils dilated suddenly; his mind raced, and after much consideration, he could only think of this possibility. The fat man had come in sneaky like a thief, hiding something in his belly, and when he left, he was still hiding it. A window of opportunity large enough for Link to take drugs.

But can drugs solve the problem?

Before the match, there's a urine test, and after, a check of the stored urine sample from the boxer is conducted.

Cheating could lead to major trouble.

Link couldn't possibly think the urine test organization of the event organizers wouldn't detect what was coming out of him, could he?

Mario's eyes darted around, and he headed to coach West's resting room.

West was watching a video of Andrea Berto's morning match. Mario walked back and forth behind him and then spoke in a low voice, "West, would you believe it? Link is doing ketamine in the resting room?"

West was taken aback, then shook his head, "No way, he doesn't need it."

"It's true, I just saw that fat guy from his shop cloak something with his belly, sneaking into his resting room. A while later, he sneaked out again. Link is definitely taking drugs," Mario said with certainty.

"Don't talk nonsense. Link would never do drugs."

West calmly gestured dismissively, continuing to watch the match video.

Mario clenched his fists and took a few deep breaths, then walked over to Reggie, who was napping, and woke him with a punch, "I swear, Link is definitely on drugs."

Reggie rubbed his eyes, yawned under Mario's gaze, and then pulled the blanket over his head with the back of his hand.

"Why, why don't you guys believe me?" Mario yelled, frustrated.

——