### Chapter 108: Two Matches (Subscription Request)

"Go, Richard!"

On June 16th, at the Barclays Center in Brooklyn, Richard faced the first match of the semifinals.

His opponent was James Toney, nicknamed "Lights Out," a heavy-set black man, thirty years old, and a former IBF middleweight champion, IBF super middleweight champion, and WBU light heavyweight champion, with a professional record of 61 wins, 4 losses, and 2 draws.

As both were boxing stars, over 18,000 people packed the arena to watch the match. Among them, five thousand were from the Bronx, making the 20,000-seat venue feel even more crowded, from the stands to the ring, the atmosphere was electric.

Right from the start, both fighters engaged in fierce combat, with Richard using the same fast attack and heavy strike strategy that he used against Vasily.

James Toney, perhaps wary of falling into a trap and ending up like Vasily in the twelfth round, fought back fiercely from the beginning, not holding back at all.

Their intense fighting style made the atmosphere even more sensational, especially with Richard's supporters, who were overwhelmingly present.

About five to six thousand residents from the Bronx, all his cheerleaders, chanted his name, "Champion Richard! Champion Richard!" and called him "The Undefeated God." From the very beginning, the home advantage was in full swing.

As the match started, this advantage became even more apparent.

Every punch Richard threw was accompanied by loud cheers. His punches felt like bombs exploding in the center of the arena, continuously echoing.

Before the end of the first round, he had dazed his opponent.

James Toney felt like crying. In over sixty matches, he had never encountered anything like this, where every punch was met with thousands of people cheering.

It felt like fighting not one man, but five to six thousand. Who could withstand that?

Additionally, Richard was in top form, his punches felt like they had the force of a heavyweight champion. This match was unwinnable, both mentally and physically, he was outmatched.

By the third round, James Toney had been knocked down three times and was in a poor state.

When he fell for the third time, the referee stopped the match, declaring Richard the winner.

"Wow~ Richard won!"

"Champion Richard!"

"The Undefeated God!"

"Richard of the Bronx!"

The crowd roared, even more enthusiastically than at a World Cup match.

"This guy is really something!"

On the second-tier stand, Mark Vicknes, with green eyes, watched Richard in the ring through binoculars.

"Yes, Richard is a big star in the Bronx, with many fans. Every time he fights, people from the Bronx bet on him to win, and he always does. That's how he earned the title of The Undefeated God."

His assistant Jamie said.

"How's his shooting? Better than mine?"

Vicknes asked.

"Richard rarely uses guns, but some say he fired a shot three years ago. During a gang fight on his street, he tossed a coin into the air, quickly drew his gun, and accurately shot the coin. Seeing his skill, both gangs retreated."

"Shooting a coin? I don't believe it. If he's that good, why not join the Olympics?"

Vicknes frowned.

"I don't know, but many witnessed it. He's proficient in boxing, fighting, and firearms, so gang members in the Bronx don't mess with him.

Last year, he had a conflict with the third largest gang in the Bronx. The gang leader wanted him to throw a fight, but Richard tricked him, took a lot of money, and when the leader sent over a hundred armed men after him, guess how he survived?"

Jamie smiled.

"How? Stop teasing and tell me."

Vicknes said impatiently.

"Richard, with dislocated hands, barged into the gang leader's room, grabbing him directly."

"That's nonsense. A man with dislocated hands escaping a hundred armed men and charging into their base? He isn't Superman."

Vicknes didn't believe it.

"I didn't believe it either, but after spending three days in three different bars in the Bronx, I heard similar stories. Even if exaggerated, they can't be far from the truth. Mark, did you see the gunshot wound on Richard's shoulder?"

Jamie asked.

"Yes, it's clearly a gunshot wound. Besides the shoulder, there seems to be one on his stomach too. Do you know how he got those?"

Vicknes asked through his binoculars.

"The stomach wound is unclear, but the shoulder wound was from that night. Mark, guess how he got it, it's more thrilling than in movies."

Jamie smiled.

"Was it the gang leader who shot him?"

Vicknes asked.

"No, Richard was surrounded by over a hundred armed men. Knowing he couldn't escape, he barged into the leader's room, grabbed him, and used him as a shield to walk out.

The gang had over a hundred men. Seeing their leader as a hostage, they didn't dare shoot and retreated. It was raining that evening, making the situation even more tense. As they reached the door, a gunshot shattered the glass door, adding to the tension. Then another shot aimed at the leader.

At the critical moment, Richard pushed the leader aside, saving him from being shot. In the chaos, Richard got shot in the shoulder but managed to escape into the rain. The leader, grateful for his life, didn't pursue Richard further. Richard is bold, meticulous, and skilled, a truly formidable guy."

Jamie praised.

"Hmph, just a reckless little man, what's so great about him? Did you find out about his underground fights?"

"Yes, 23 matches undefeated."

"Did he kill anyone?"

"Couldn't confirm. Underground fights can be open or secret. Open fights prohibit intentional killing, while real underground fights are private, invite-only events where fatalities are common. Richard has participated in these, but whether he's killed or not is unknown, only that he hasn't been killed."

Jamie explained.

Vicknes watched Richard walk off the ring, his eyes narrowing. "Jamie, with so many people loving boxing, how about we organize a match too?"

"How? Organizing a match is expensive, needing sponsorships, tapes, broadcasts to break even."

"No need, Father gave me some money to make friends in New York. Organizing a match and inviting everyone would be a more creative way to socialize, don't you think? It's settled."

Vicknes snapped his fingers and left the arena with his team.

---

### Chapter 108: Two Matches

"Hey, Richard, congratulations on winning another match. You're one step closer to the light heavyweight championship."

At the match venue, Mayweather walked up and said.

"Haha, thanks, Mayweather. Have they scheduled your final match yet?" Richard asked while wiping his sweat.

"Yes, it's in October!"

"Congratulations. In a few months, you'll be able to lift the gold belt."

Mayweather had entered the semifinals, won two matches, and currently had a record of 18 wins and no losses. The next match was the lightweight final, and with his strength, winning the gold belt was not a problem.

"You guys are celebrating like you've already won the gold belt before the final has even started. Aren't you afraid of being embarrassed if you lose?" Paul sneered.

"No, we have confidence."

Mayweather laughed.

"Heh, no one in the boxing world wins all the time. The same goes for you two. As a friend, I advise you to be careful," Paul said, waving his hand and squeezing through the crowd.

"What's with that guy?" Mayweather grinned.

"A bit jealous. From the start, he's been hoping I'd lose so he could join the WBA championship next year," Richard said with a helpless smile.

"Hey, Mr. Brad, can we get an interview?"

While the two were chatting, a few reporters came over.

"Sure, what would you like to ask?"

"Richard, did you hear James Toney's complaint?" one reporter asked.

"Complaint? Was there an issue with the match?" Richard asked curiously.

"Yes, James thinks it wasn't a fair fight. He said there were too many of your fans at the venue, and their cheers were too loud, affecting his performance. He claims he lost not to you, but to your fans, and has filed a protest with the judges. What do you think about that?" a reporter from the New York Daily News asked.

"Haha, Mr. Toney is quite interesting. I never knew the audience could have such an impact. I believe the key to winning or losing a boxing match lies within the ropes. The only reason he lost is because he's not strong enough. If Mr. Toney is dissatisfied with the result, he's welcome to challenge me anytime," Richard said, waving his fist.

---

After the match, Richard returned to the gym to continue training while preparing for a new role. The filming of "The Talented Mr. Ripley" was scheduled to start in mid-month in Sicily, Italy. Richard had a supporting role with less screen time, so he could join later.

His role was a piano teacher living in Italy. During this time, he not only had to study the character but also learn Italian and basic piano playing. There were several Italian immigrants on Jackson Street, making it easy to learn Italian, and learning piano was even easier.

Ding ding ding dong ding~

"Richard, your fingers are too stiff. Be more flexible, like you're dancing," said Fabio, the pianist, as he taught Richard.

Ding ding ding dong ding~

"Softer. This is playing the piano, not boxing. You don't need that much strength."

"Alright, I'll try to control my strength."

Richard carefully placed his hand on the white keys, like touching a woman's skin, very lightly, fearing he might hurt them.

"Richard, why are you learning the piano?" Fabio asked, holding a glass of wine.

"For a movie. I got a role as a pianist."

"You're a boxer. Why take on these strange roles? I remember last time you were an artist," Fabio laughed.

"Yeah, they said I have an artistic temperament," Richard said, pressing the keys with a smile.

"Haha, you're a ring artist. Your fingers don't need to be that high. Since it's for acting, you don't need to learn everything. You can go to Carnegie Hall to watch some piano concerts. Those guys play and perform at the same time, sometimes not even touching the keys, completely immersed in the music."

"Haha, you're right. I'll go learn when I have time."

Ding dong ding ding ding~

"Hey, Richard, stop playing. You're not cut out for the piano," someone shouted from the audience.

"Yeah, Richard, spend more time training for boxing. Stop playing around," another added.

"That's right, Richard. We all hope you get the gold belt soon. Then we'll have a champion from the Bronx."

"Richard, come down and have a drink. Your piano playing makes people want to fight," someone joked, causing the bar to burst into laughter.

"Shut up, all of you. I'm a boxing champion playing the piano for you, and you're not happy? Next time, I'll charge you an entrance fee," Richard scolded with a smile.

"Haha, well said, Richard. I want to request a song. How about 'Twinkle Twinkle Little Star'? Can you play it?" the bar owner, Johnson, laughed.

"Nope!"

"You can't even play that? My three-year-old daughter Annie can play it. And you want to charge an entrance fee?" the crowd roared with laughter.

Richard shook his head, ignoring them, and continued tapping the keys, creating noise.

"Hey, Richard, what are you doing over there?" Big Andy asked from the audience, holding a glass of wine.

"I want to become a musician," Richard replied.

"Haha, I wanted that too as a kid. But my father gave me a gun and told me to go rob bread. He said the sound of bullets is more beautiful than music," Andy said, walking up to the stage and pressing the keys, producing a pleasant melody that was no less skillful than Fabio's.

"You're good. Teach me sometime," Richard smiled.

"I had a lover who was a pianist. I could introduce you to her. You could learn from her," Andy offered.

"No need. I'm just learning the basics. What's up?" Richard asked, wiping his hands with a handkerchief and handing the piano over to Fabio.

"Something."

In the bar's booth, Andy lit a cigar. "Are you still competing in mixed martial arts?"

"MMA?"

Richard raised his eyebrows. "Is someone inviting me?"

"Yes, someone approached Starlight Sports to invite you to a match with a $200,000 appearance fee."

"What kind of match? Real or exhibition?"

"Real fight!"

"$200,000 isn't enough. I'm an international boxing champion. One match's prize money exceeds $100,000. A private match like this is more dangerous."

"$300,000!" Andy said, holding a cigar. "That's the highest price!"

Richard looked at him and suddenly smiled. "I think it can go higher."

"Richard, you're an international boxing champion, yes. But your reputation in MMA isn't big. $300,000 is the highest for a private match."

"Since the other party is willing to pay $300,000 and specifically asked for me, I have the right to negotiate. Andy, no matter how much intermediary fee they gave you, don't you want to earn more?"

Richard chuckled.

Andy stared at him for a while, then suddenly laughed. "Why not? That guy offered tens of thousands right away, clearly an ignorant tycoon. If we don't take his money, who will? This can be negotiated."

"Can you find out more about this tycoon?"

"Of course. His name is Wickness, the third son of the chairman of Limited Chain Women's Clothing Stores. He's organizing this party to make connections in New York."

Richard nodded.

"By the way, he gave you a card, saying to hand it to you if you refused," Andy said, taking out a small envelope from his pocket.

Richard opened it and saw the words, "Do you dare to come?"

---

On the third day, Andy came again. Richard was quietly playing "Twinkle Twinkle Little Star" on the bar's stage, and Andy listened for a while.

"You're learning fast," Andy smiled.

Richard shook his head. "How's the negotiation?"

"The other party proposed two options: a $500,000 appearance fee or 80% of the $1 million prize if you win. Which one do you choose?"

"$1 million prize? That rich?" Richard asked.

"Yes, with a family fortune of several hundred million. How else can they show off their wealth?" Andy laughed.

Richard pondered for a moment. "Who's the opponent?"

"Mark Henry, known as the World's Strongest Man. He won the super heavyweight weightlifting championship at the 1992 Barcelona Olympics, and in 1995, he won three gold medals at the Pan American Games. His strength is immense. He can squat 430 kg without equipment and lift a 175-pound dumbbell with one hand. He joined WWE last year and has performed very well."

"The World's Strongest Man? I'd like to compete with him," Richard said with a slight smile.

"Alright, I'll arrange it," Andy said, putting on his hat and leaving.

Richard continued playing the piano, ding ding dong~

Twinkle, twinkle, little star,

How I wonder what you are.