Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion

Phew!

Link's fist whizzed past Andzeje's chin.

"wow!"

A sigh swept through the audience.

"Link's arms are a bit short, and Andzeje is taller and dodges very quickly,"

West said with regret.

Andzeje's manager wiped the sweat off his forehead and let out a sigh of relief.

Only a number of reporters in attendance remained skeptical, having received calls from concerned spectators before the match, suggesting that Link and Andzeje had made a secret deal to throw the fight. Was Link's missed punch intentional?

With suspicion, the reporters watched the boxing ring closely, trying to find evidence of Link throwing the fight.

In the ring, Link and Andzeje exchanged blows, attacking and defending, and landing effective punches on each other, making the fight exceedingly exciting.

The crowd, too, was whipped into a frenzy, yelling and cheering for both fighters.

From the first through the sixth round, the two maintained this level of engagement, making it difficult to pick a clear winner and fully showcasing their superb offensive and defensive boxing skills.

But the reporters had an inkling that something was amiss; based on Link's strength and speed, it shouldn't be difficult for him to KO the 'slender' Andzeje. However, six rounds had passed without a single KO—Link had only succeeded in knocking Andzeje into the ropes or the corner post at most.

This clearly wasn't Link's style.

The reporters suspected that the tip-off call was true, and that Link and Andzeje were indeed throwing the fight.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

On the ring, in the eighth round, both fighters were drenched in sweat, their punches often trailing droplets, but the match remained thrilling, with both exhibiting rapid hand speed and often landing blows to the head and body, quick fists resonating with loud thumps.

The audience was thoroughly entertained, their shouts and cheers rising and falling with the action.

"KO, why isn't there a KO?"

"Although it looks exciting, with Link's level, the fight shouldn't be going like this."

"What is Link doing?"

Even without the mysterious tip-off, the promoters who were regulars at the ring felt something off by the eighth round; the match seemed to have some fishy elements.

"Boss, I've heard that Link might be throwing the fight,"

the assistant said quietly to Greg Cohen, "That's the news from the reporters, someone told them that there may be some deal going on between Link and Andzeje."

"Really? What's he up to?"

Greg Cohen, staring at Link in the ring, suddenly let out a cold laugh with a crooked smile, "Making money, huh? He turned down twenty million, to earn that chump change? Indeed not a smart man. Contact the media, leak the news that Link Baker is throwing the fight."

"Yes, boss!"

"Wait, any movement on Franco Duvall's end?"

"Boss, Mr. Franco Duvall has been conversing with Mr. Lou Duva, and it seems there has been some displeasure. Young Mr. Duvall took a United Airlines flight back to New York at noon, leaving only his assistant Simon in Miami."

Greg Cohen, hearing this, wore a satisfied smile on his lips, as everything was going according to his expectations.

Compared to the 'survival of the fittest' competition system implemented inside top promotion companies, the family-style management run by the main event promotion companies seemed rather outdated.

Lou Duva, a cautious and autocratic man, would never agree to offer a big contract to an amateur boxer like Link while managing Holyfield and over a dozen other world and continental boxing champions.

Young Duvall's trip was doomed to be futile.

Greg Cohen, looking at Link in the ring, clenched his fist and smiled with a look of determination to prevail.

"Come on, Link, come on!"

"Link for the champion!"

"Go Andzeje!"

In the stands, the audience had been shouting for eight rounds, their voices nearly hoarse, but what did that matter? Being able to witness the clash of two boxing masters in person was far more thrilling than twisting around in a bar or shouting chaotically in KTV.

The boxers at the venue were also watching the match with wide eyes, taking in every move, the brilliant attacks, the impressive defenses, the clever dodges, and the stunning counterattacks. It was like watching a live instructional video from two boxing masters.

"No way, Andzeje is so skinny, I could take him out with one punch, and Link is sparring with him for nine rounds? He can't really be on drugs, could he, with punches that soft?" Mario propped up his face, boredly watching the match on stage.

"Isn't it exciting? Why should they finish early?"

Reggie watched the match with great enthusiasm.

Next to him, West was holding a handheld camera, filming the exchange between the two fighters to take back and let the apprentices at the gym study and learn from it.

"But don't you think it's abnormal? Considering Link's caliber, the fight shouldn't be like this. There's something wrong here," Mario said.

"There is something wrong, but I understand Link," Reggie said, his face glowing with admiration as he looked at Link.

Mario widened his eyes, totally unable to comprehend what was so admirable here. Were you misplacing your admiration?

"Don't you believe me?" Reggie turned back with a smile, "If you faced a boxer with great technique on the ring, wouldn't you want to spar a few more rounds with him to refine your skills?"

Mario looked at his fists, large as sandbags, "No, I'd just knock him down with one punch."

Reggie shook his head and sighed, "That's the difference between us and Link. We just think about defeating the opponent quickly and winning the match, but he thinks about what he can gain from the match. That's also why he keeps getting stronger—because he's not just powerful, he's also diligent, hardworking, and eager to learn. We should all take a page from his book."

Reggie gazed at Link with a face full of admiration, his eyes shining brightly.

Mario was going crazy. "That's not it at all, okay? He's clearly throwing the fight."

"Shut up! Mario, you can insult me, but please don't insult Link, okay?" Reggie said, clenching his fists and speaking angrily.

Mario opened and closed his mouth. For the first time in his twenty-two years, he felt like there might be something wrong with the world.

——

"West, don't you think there's something off about this match, Link, he's throwing it."

Mario found West, an honest old man. Mario believed he wouldn't speak nonsense.

"So what?" West asked, holding the video camera.

Mario was stunned, looking at the old man in disbelief, "Link is throwing the fight, and you just say, 'so what?'"

"Yes, Link and Andzeje sparred for nine rounds, and Link was in absolute dominance for eight of them. Just counting points, he could win. You should know Andzeje's skill is top-tier in amateur boxing. Link sparring with him, not using heavy punches or relying on a strong physique but merely surpassing him with technique, shows that Link has no weaknesses in boxing.

He is a perfect boxer, and this match has verified everything," West said, stroking his chin beard with a thoroughly satisfied smile.

"But he's throwing the fight."

Mario shouted angrily.

"Shut up!!"

"Link didn't intentionally lose to Andzeje, how can you call it throwing a fight? Don't say such things again," West said, his face darkening, clearly displeased.

Mario returned to his seat, disheartened. He propped his face, looking up at the sky, confirming that there indeed was something wrong with the world.

——