Chapter 328: Ten Matches

Neil Bennett personally opened the guardrail to let Simon into the ring, ignoring the buzzing discussions around him. Looking at his boss's physique, which definitely exceeded that of most ordinary people, he still expressed concern, "Boss, why don't we go back and train for a while before coming up here? This is pretty dangerous."

Simon flexed his wrists and extended them towards Neil, saying, "These are a bit loose, help me put them on again."

Reluctantly, Neil Bennett, from the other side of the guardrail, tightened Simon's gloves, gave him a once-over, and then turned his head to instruct the manager of the fighting ring to bring a set of joint protectors. He called a bikini-clad ring girl to the stage to help Simon put them on.

Sitting on the stool that Neil had pushed in, Simon addressed the brunette who eagerly approached him, "You can skip the wrist and knee guards, just the ankle guards will do."

The brunette nodded obediently, crouched in front of Simon, pulled his foot towards her, resting it on her fair thigh, and began to slide the protector up, introducing herself, "I'm Danica, Mr. Westeros."

Simon didn't refuse this flirtatious gesture and responded with a smile, "Nice to meet you, I'm Simon."

Danica smiled back, revealing charming dimples.

After the ankle guards were fitted, Simon stood up, jumped a bit to test them, and nodded towards the fighting ring's manager.

"Also, this," Neil Bennett still on the other side of the guardrail, held up a mouth guard for Simon. Noticing Simon's hesitation, Neil explained, "It's new."

Simon then put it on.

The unrest among the audience grew more noticeable.

After Simon put on the mouthguard, he finally glanced at Patrick Johnston and James Pike below the stage, then started warming up.

On the other side, a boxer with a buzz cut, similar in build to Simon, climbed onto the ring and smiled at Simon, though his expression clearly showed caution.

"Simon Westeros, huh. How do we fight this?"

The ring was full of professional boxers, relying on this line of work for their livelihood.

Who is Simon Westeros?

The youngest billionaire, the wealthiest man in North America with a fortune of six billion dollars, a Hollywood director, a genius in the financial investment world, Johnston's son-in-law...

A string of halos.

Just not the attribute of a boxer, right?

Fighting against such a person, winning brings no benefits, and losing is even worse.

More seriously.

What if something goes wrong and he gets hurt? The consequences would be dire.

However, the announcer had already begun the introduction, his voice trembling, "Next up, facing each other are Jason Greer and… Simon Westeros!"

With the broadcast, the venue buzzed, and the crowd surged towards the ring.

Many had been guessing and thought it was just a look-alike.

Now.

It was really Simon Westeros!

Below the ring, James Pike felt the agitated mood of the audience and suggested to Patrick beside him, "Maybe we should call it off. Simon and your sister are about to get married. It'd be bad if he gets hurt."

Patrick, with a look of wanting more chaos, casually pointed to Neil Bennett and another bodyguard stationed below the ring, saying, "There are people watching. We've also made arrangements on the stage. There won't be any problems."

James Pike, however, grew more regretful the more he thought about it.

He really shouldn't have egged Simon on to get on stage with Patrick. If anything happened, he was sure his old man would break his legs.

He wanted to pass on a few more instructions to the fighters and referees on the stage, but couldn't find an opportunity.

On the ring.

The middle-aged referee checked Simon and Jason's protective gear and finally whispered, "Mr. Westeros, are you sure you want to do this?"

Except for Patrick and the audience looking for excitement, everyone else didn't really want Simon to step up.

This is not a joke to be taken lightly!

Simon nodded again, and said to Jason Greer, who seemed to be contemplating how to handle the situation, "Go all out, I can afford to lose. Beat me, and you get $100,000."

Hearing Simon's offer, Jason Greer's spirits lifted.

The referee, seizing a moment Simon was distracted, winked at Jason.

Take it easy. Money's important, but life is more so.

Jason Greer noticed the middle-aged referee's signal and instantly understood, cooling down a bit as he pondered how to win against the billionaire without making it too embarrassing.

A bikini-clad ring girl paraded around the ring, and with the sound of the gong, the match officially began.

Simon raised his hands in front of him, slightly bent over, adopting a defensive stance.

Inheriting memories from so many people, Simon's mind was filled with various fighting techniques, and he had never neglected fitness in recent years. Moreover, Simon always knew he possessed a strength far beyond ordinary people. Although he hadn't tested his limits, lifting 200kg in the gym was a breeze for him.

Thus, facing this kind of rule-free free-fighting, he was quite confident he wouldn't be too embarrassed.

As the defensive stance was set, for the entire first round, Simon kept dodging, barely making a move.

Jason Greer understood Simon was getting a feel for the fight, and knowing from Simon's professional fighting stance that the billionaire wasn't clueless about fighting, he became less cautious and patiently sparred with Simon.

In the second round, Simon finally began to try making moves, and Jason Greer, keeping in mind the $100,000 promised by Simon, also started to counterattack.

Still, the confrontation wasn't very intense.

To laymen, it was just a spectacle.

When the third round started, Simon was still dodging more than attacking, and Jason Greer seemed to still be playing along with the big shot, the venue began to boo.

They didn't come to watch a fixed fight.

As one of the fighters, Jason Greer was increasingly shocked because he had unknowingly exerted more than 70% of his strength, yet his opponent still seemed at ease.

Moreover.

Although he wasn't hit often, when Simon Westeros landed a punch, it really hurt.

The standard five-round match quickly moved to the fourth round.

Having been lenient for three rounds, Jason Greer launched a fierce attack on Simon right at the start of the round. Simon still adopted a defensive position but also started to counter more aggressively.

Such intense confrontation finally silenced the boos from the audience, who were all eagerly waiting for one of them to be defeated.

On the ring, after Simon seemingly struggled to block a combination attack from Jason Greer, he took advantage of his opponent's shifted center of gravity and suddenly unleashed a powerful hook punch.

Bang—

This wasn't a movie.

Nor the sound of a punch.

But the sound of a sturdy man, weighing 90kg and standing 1.8m tall, falling to the ground like a sack of potatoes.

Both on and off the ring, those who had been worried about Simon facing such a fate were stunned for a few seconds. Watching Jason Greer lie motionless on the ground, two doctors stationed below

 the ring quickly rushed up.

After a frantic check, one doctor told Simon, "Mr. Westeros, he's passed out."

"Just passed out?"

"Maybe a concussion, but it shouldn't be too serious."

The manager instructed the staff to carry Jason Greer down, and the referee finally remembered to step forward, grabbed Simon's right hand, and raised it, while the host's voice excitedly announced through the speakers, "The winner is Simon Westeros."

Applause erupted below.

But Simon didn't leave the ring, feeling unsatisfied, he walked to the edge of the ring and signaled to the fighting ring manager, "Send the next one up, tell them, beat me and they get $100,000, lose and they get nothing."

Seeing Simon wanting to continue, the previously unimpressed audience now gave more enthusiastic applause.

Then.

The second match.

The third match.

The fourth match.

…

When Simon finished his tenth match by knocking down his Asian opponent from Thailand with a harsh elbow strike, as more and more people crowded into the already packed fighting ring, the venue uniformly erupted in loud chants.

"Westeros, Westeros, Westeros…"

After ten continuous matches, ten consecutive KOs, many martial arts enthusiasts looked at Simon with eyes that went beyond mere admiration.

Watching a super-rich man consecutively defeat ten opponents made most people feel, although just spectators, that this was enough to boast about for many years.

Simon himself wasn't without injuries, and Neil Bennett, who had been vigilantly guarding the ring to prevent any accidents, saw his boss's swollen face and other injuries. After the referee announced the result, Neil opened the guardrail and entered the ring, saying, "Boss, you can't go on anymore."

Simon also felt a bit weak and looked at the electronic clock hanging in the venue. It was past midnight, so he nodded.

However, Simon didn't just leave the stage; instead, he walked to the edge of the ring, signaled to the stunned Patrick, and told James Pike beside him, "Go, get him changed, we're having a match."

Knowing his brother-in-law had brought him here tonight with no good intentions.

In fact, although it was Patrick's instigation, if Simon hadn't been willing, it wouldn't have happened.

But, a lesson was still in order.

Patrick seemed not to hear what Simon said, opened his mouth as if to question, "Eh?"

Simon made a gesture to James Pike, then Patrick was dragged backstage.

Seeing this, Neil Bennett didn't try to stop it.

Now injured, Simon would definitely still be lectured by Raymond Johnston.

As the instigator, their family's most useless young master indeed deserved a lesson.

James Pike personally dragged Patrick to the backstage to change clothes. Less than a minute later, he ran back alone, barely holding back a laugh, and told Simon, "Patrick ran away, Simon, do you want to chase him back?"

Simon just waved his hand with a smile, effortlessly flipped over the guardrail, and stepped down from the ring.

As Simon left the ring, the audience, knowing there would be no more matches, immediately surged towards him, trying to get a chance to interact with Simon.

Neil Bennett quickly signaled the surrounding staff to escort Simon through the frantic crowd into the backstage.

Sitting on a couch backstage, Simon finally felt a wave of exhaustion and listened to the faint chants of "Simon" and "Westeros" from the front, allowing several bikini-clad girls to help him remove his gloves and ankle guards. Overwhelmed by fatigue, he closed his eyes and fell asleep immediately.

Although there were breaks, the continuous three hours of intense competition had drained the last bit of Simon's energy.

He didn't remember much of what happened afterward.

He vaguely felt he was taken to the Johnston family's private medical center in the city, underwent various treatments, and Janet appeared and seemed to say a few words before they returned to the mansion.

Then.

A deep, dark sleep lasted a long time, someone touched his face where he was injured, he instinctively grabbed and pulled it close, holding it in his arms.

A very comforting feeling.

When he finally woke up, he was in the bedroom of the Johnston family mansion, where he and Janet stayed. The woman curled up like a kitten in his arms.

Turning his head towards the dimly lit window outside, he couldn't tell if it was morning or dusk.

Feeling his movement, Janet opened her eyes, her beautiful pupils glanced over, twinkled a few times, and her head leaned over to bite his ear.

Pain shot through him, and Simon immediately pleaded, "Stop, you'll be the one upset if you bite it off."

"Asshole, I wouldn't be upset about you," Janet bit down a few more times lightly before letting go. Her smooth cheek rubbed against Simon's face, then she propped herself up to face him, "Don't ever do that again."

"Sure, I promise," Simon replied, kissing her on the lips, then asked, "What time is it now?"

Janet didn't answer, just continued to hold Simon's face and gaze into his eyes, "You have to promise."

"I promise," Simon nodded solemnly, adding, "Actually, it was your brother who egged me on. I wanted to teach him a lesson, but he ran off."

"I don't care about your silly affairs," Janet softened again, resting on Simon, "Dinner will still take a while, are you hungry? Should we go out to eat?"

"I am," Simon replied, feeling something poking him. He reached under himself and found a button, which he tossed aside, then continued, "But let's eat here instead. Also, did the old man get mad?"

Janet caught the button, threw it into the gap between the bedside and the wall where it disappeared, then rested again on Simon's chest, "No, but the media is buzzing today. The newspapers are all about 'Simon Westeros defeats ten opponents in a row.' There's also video leaked, and it's been reported in North America. You're now a boxing champion, aren't you proud?"

Simon listened to Janet's teasing tone, "There shouldn't be random recording and photography in the fighting ring, right?"

"Last night, you went crazy on stage, and all of Melbourne was alerted. With so many people crowding over, how can you prevent that? Unfortunately, by the time I rushed to the city, I could only see you in the hospital."

Simon chuckled, "I was supposed to discuss Sersei Capital with Tony today, but that'll have to wait until tomorrow. Baivista launches on the 18th, I'll stay another day, then I must rush back to North America. Time is really tight."

Janet hummed in response, clearly somewhat uninterested.

Feeling the woman's mood, Simon stopped talking about it, lifted her slight body to one side, and said, "Alright, you can lie down a bit longer, I need to get up."

Janet's arm clung to Simon's until he sat up, then she scratched his back before burying her head in the pillow, turning to watch him dress quietly.

___________________

(Support with power stones, comments or reviews)

If you guys enjoy this story, In support me on Patreon and get access to +200 advance Chapters

Read Ahead

Patreon.com/INNIT