Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion

"Link, you made it."

The nanny van arrived at the Madison Square Garden arena, where the audience had skyrocketed from a few hundred people at the first match to over three thousand spectators today.

The space under the boxing ring was crowded with over a hundred journalists, not just from America but also from Canada, Europe, and Asia. Media outlets such as HBO and FOX had also sent reporters and cameramen to record Link's match.

Clearly, Link's previous verbal sparring had successfully captivated the attention of media around the world.

Simon Curtis couldn't help but admire Link's ability to generate news. With just a few words, he drew in more than three thousand spectators and over a hundred media reporters, demonstrating a draw power greater than that of international superstars.

"Link, they all came to see you become a laughing stock. Of course, being as brave as you are, this little skirmish surely won't faze you, right Link?"

Dino Duva said to Link with a malicious grin.

Link shook his head. Having experienced the pressure of qualifiers and the Olympic Games, the current scene indeed felt like a small skirmish to him and hardly put any pressure on him.

What he was most concerned about now was his opponent in the second match, Romaric Hignard, a Puerto Rican boxer with an amateur record of 51 fights and 42 wins, a not-so-shabby level. Records indicated that his signature move was the upper hook punch. He had knocked out three opponents with upper hook punches in amateur matches, more than Link had with upper hook punches.

"Link, this match you..."

Tommy Brooks didn't know how to instruct Link with tactics. In the past, when coaching boxers, he would tell them the opponent's characteristics and weaknesses and then how to fight to win the match.

But when it came to a boxer like Link, he was at a loss for guidance because Link had already set his own finish time before the match started—either a few seconds or a couple of dozen seconds. The time was too short for tactics to be of any use.

"Link, just punch hard. Your punches are heavy, your speed is fast, and Romaric won't be able to take many hits from you."

Coach Brooks said helplessly.

Link nodded and climbed onto the boxing ring with his fists raised.

The opponent, too, looked at him with a belligerent gaze. Despite his skill, he was just a larger stepping stone. If he could defeat him, he would be able to pick up the 'Honor Shards' he'd left behind, and even gain things like "Fame," "Gold Coins," "Titles," "Experience," and so on, as if he were playing a game.

The spectators and reporters below were also watching the ring without blinking, fearing that they might miss the end of the match with a single blink.

"Boxing!"

The referee announced the start of the match. Before Link could throw a punch, his opponent took the initiative to attack with a cunning right upper hook punch aimed at his jaw.

Link inwardly praised, for this punch was unexpected. In terms of angle, speed, and timing, it was very good. An ordinary person faced with such a sneak punch could easily be knocked down, but Link was no ordinary person. He was faster in speed and reaction than his opponent.

As the opponent threw his punch, Link quickly dodged to the side, and while his opponent was vulnerable during the punch, he landed a fierce right swing punch to the opponent's head.

Bang!

The opponent's head jerked sharply to the left, his body staggered, and with a thud, he fell to the canvas.

Without protective gear and only the cushioning of boxing gloves, his heavy punch was much more brutal than in amateur matches, and the damage inflicted was also greater.n/ô/vel/b//jn dot c//om

In amateur matches, he needed to land a dozen or a hundred punches to bring down an opponent, but in professional bouts, sometimes a single punch was enough. This was why boxers skilled in heavy punches performed better in professional matches.

"...3, 2, 1!"

The referee counted backward from ten, and the opponent did not get up.

"It's over already?"

A murmur of surprise echoed through the stands, this match seemed to end even faster than the last one. Was Link a bit too vicious?

"How many seconds?"

Dino turned to Simon, who was timing the match.

"Less than 5 seconds!"

Simon exclaimed with admiration.

The journalists below, also timing with their stopwatches, noted that from the start of the match to Romaric hitting the ground, Link took only 4.82 seconds—practically the span of a single breath. It was incredibly fast and could definitely be recorded in the Guinness World Records.

"Mr. Link Baker, congratulations on winning the second match, moving one step closer to becoming the world boxing champion."

Upon seeing Link step down from the ring, the journalists once again swarmed him, shoving dozens of microphones in his direction, while cameras pointed at him.

"Thank you!"

Link responded politely.

"Mr. Link Baker, a journalist from The Guardian interviewed Mr. Calzaghe over the phone yesterday. Mr. Calzaghe stated that he announced the renouncement of his golden belt to focus on light heavyweight competitions and not because of you. What's your take on that?"

The international reporter from The Guardian asked.

"Whatever the reason, it's Mr. Calzaghe's prerogative. We should understand and respect his choice,"

Link spoke out loud.

"Mr. Link Baker, Mikkel Kessler, Lucian Bute, Andre Ward, Andre Dirrell, Carl Froch, Arthur Abraham, and others have said in interviews that you are all talk and no substance. They also claimed that they would brutally defeat you in a match, to teach you how to speak and how to be humble. What do you think?"

The reporter from USA Today asked loudly.

Link smiled lightly, facing the microphones of the journalists and the camera lenses of several TV stations, he said, "Teach me to be humble? I don't understand why they resent my high profile, but as professional boxers, promoting the sport of boxing is our duty. We should be more outspoken, fight like Ali, like Tyson, to make boxing more popular.

If everyone buried their heads in the sand, creeping under the radar, envious of others' high profile,

As for such ambitionless opponents, I have nothing to say to them. I will try to defeat them within 99 seconds, because the boxing ring has no need for them!"

"It's become 99 seconds again?"

The reporters opened their mouths wide, watching him in horror. This guy had already managed to offend everyone last time, and by conventional practice, he should be finding ways to make amends, to mend his relationship with them.

But, rather than doing so, he was just adding fuel to the fire.

One man against the whole world.

He's so bold—is he really not afraid of being killed?

"99 seconds?"

Dino's eyes twitched violently as he turned to Simon and said, "I heard before that Link was stabbed, and I didn't believe it. He's always so proper, why would anyone want to stab him? Now I understand. With the way he talks, even I, an outsider, want to stab him, let alone those involved. He's too arrogant."

Simon also wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, trembling as he pulled out his cellphone from his pocket and called Franco, asking him to prepare for a larger public relations effort because Link had been running his mouth again.

——

"Boss, Link's been making harsh statements to the reporters again."

In the audience, a man in a trench coat listened for a while before taking out his phone to call his boss, Greg Cohen.

"What did he say?"

Greg Cohen asked over the phone.

The man in the trench coat repeated Link's new declaration.

Greg Cohen listened in silence for a while, thinking this guy was really good at stirring up trouble. A boxer like this, if signed by the company, wouldn't even need the company to spend money on promotion; his mouth alone was worth a million, ten million in advertising.

"How many rounds did the fight go?"

"4.82 seconds?"

The trench coat man said.

"4.82 seconds?! Was his opponent a wooden dummy, not even lasting 10 seconds?"

On the phone, Greg Cohen exclaimed in shock.

The trench coat man also sighed incredulously, describing the recent match that lasted less than 5 seconds, which amounted to saying that the opponent attacked Link, who then KO'd him with one punch.

Greg Cohen cursed, "Shit. How likely do you think it is for him to defeat Mikkel and Andre Ward within 100 seconds?"

The trench coat man thought for a moment, "I don't know if he can do it, but he seems very powerful. His strength is much greater than other boxers in his rank. Andre Ward is probably not his match either."

"Damn, how can this bastard grow so fast?"

Greg Cohen cursed angrily. Previously, at the Golden Gloves Championship, Link had shown strength roughly at the level of a Super Middleweight A-ranked boxer.

By the time of the American tournament, he unexpectedly defeated A-ranked Pitts and Aragon.

In the Olympics, his strength seemed to have improved further, exceeding the S rank.

This guy's potential was just too enormous.

"He's a dangerous man. If we let him develop like this, he will be a menace to the company's interests. It would be better to have him in our control. You go find out about Link's collaboration with Dynasty Promotions and see if there are any conflicts.

For instance, Franco had previously promised to relocate the company to Miami but failed to do so. Surely Link must be somewhat dissatisfied. Try to magnify his dissatisfaction with Franco, and then we'll find a way to poach him."

"I understand."

The trench coat man nodded and hung up the phone.

In the Las Vegas betting city top promotion company's CEO's office, Greg Cohen hung up the phone with a heavy sigh.

Looking at the President of top promotion, Bob Arum, across him, he said apologetically, "Bob, I didn't handle the Link situation well, but I will find a way to rectify it and eliminate the threat of Link as much as I can."

Bob Arum, looking like Churchill and combing his slicked-back hair, held a cigar in his hand and said cheerfully, "Greg, no need to apologize. Link has potential, but he's also a rookie, you don't need to take it too seriously."

Greg Cohen shook his head and said, "Bob, this Link guy gives me a bad feeling. He's not only incredibly strong, he's also highly adept at causing trouble. The first time I negotiated with him face to face, he was just an unknown boxer. In just over two months, he became an Olympic champion, a boxing star with a value of tens of millions.

If this trend continues, his future popularity and influence won't be less than that of Mayweather or De La Hoya, nor will his money-making capability be inferior to theirs. He will definitely affect our company's business."

Bob Arum listened, furrowing his brow and staring at the slowly burning cigar, then coughed lightly and asked, "So what are you planning to do?"

Greg Cohen tapped his knuckles on the back of his hand and thought for a while before saying, "I've been studying Link for a while, and I've found that he's a very proud and arrogant person as well as someone who seeks perfection. Such people are hard to deal with, but they have weaknesses; he can't accept defeat. He's like a sharp sword that cannot be broken even once.

We should facilitate a fight with a top boxer as soon as possible to let him experience defeat.

In the Super Middleweight rank, we can arrange for Joe Calzaghe, Mikkel Kessler, Andre Ward and others to corner him. These guys are all pretty strong; surely one of them can beat him.

And if that fails, there are still Chris Byrd, Hasim Rahman, James Toney. Link openly challenged them; arranging for them to fight Link is sure to result in his defeat.

If Link is defeated even once, he will struggle to come back, like Tyson. At that time, we can choose to sign him or completely suppress him. Control will be in our hands."

Greg Cohen spread his fingers, making a grabbing gesture.

Bob Arum squinted his eyes, "Go ahead and handle it. When I have some time, I'll also talk to old Duva, congratulate him for having a successor, hehe. This time, little Duva's vision has indeed been more accurate than anyone else's."

A flicker of displeasure crossed Greg Cohen's eyes as he took his leave from the office.