### Chapter 139: The Angry Repeater (7K, Seeking Subscription)

**"Boxing Champion Richard Brad Encountered Gunfire in Las Vegas"**

The day after Richard was attacked, the largest newspaper in Las Vegas, *The Sun*, published the major news on its front page, dedicating an entire page to detailed coverage of the incident.

In the report, the journalist interviewed more than a dozen eyewitnesses and the police officer in charge, thoroughly inquiring about the events from the robbers breaking into the restaurant, Richard Brad's resistance, to how he single-handedly knocked out four armed robbers. The report included over a dozen on-site photos.

Once this news broke, it immediately caused a public outcry and intense discussion. Within two days, more than 130 media outlets in North America reprinted the report, making almost everyone aware of the incident.

During this time, many people knew that Richard Brad was scheduled to have a rematch with Roy Jones. At such a sensitive time, Richard encountered a shooting in Las Vegas.

The assailants' motive was clear: they didn't want him to win the fight. Many speculated it had something to do with Roy Jones, which put a lot of pressure on Jones, who quickly came forward to clear his name.

Richard also stood up in support of Roy Jones, expressing his belief in Jones' professionalism and urging everyone not to speculate wildly and to give the police some time to solve the case.

Shortly after the discussions began, on the fourth day after the incident, *The Sun* published another major headline:

**"Boxing Champion Richard Attack Case Solved"**

**"—According to the confession of the assailant, this case is related to former champion Mike Tyson."**

Boom! This news shocked the entire American media.

Newspapers, TV, radio, magazines, and the internet, all forms of media reported and reprinted the story, causing boxing fans, readers, and viewers to engage in heated discussions, and public opinion to boil.

No one expected a simple shooting case to involve three boxing champions, especially the three most popular champions in the United States.

In this case, the current WBC champion Richard Brad was the victim, WBA champion Roy Jones was a suspect, and the spotlight of public opinion was more focused on boxing superstar Mike Tyson.

Tyson, following Muhammad Ali, was the most formidable and famous boxer in the world. He initiated the "Tyson Era," and among all sports stars in the '80s and '90s, his fame and influence were among the top three.

Where is this big star now?

He's serving time in a prison in Carson City, Nevada, due to a parole violation involving speeding and assault.

Yet even while serving his sentence, he was implicated in this shooting case. Many lamented that even in prison, he couldn't stay out of trouble.

"Oh, fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

In prison, when Tyson saw the newspaper, he was so angry that he cursed more than a hundred times, feeling extremely wronged.

He had merely used his professional knowledge to analyze the strengths and weaknesses of the fighters for a few cellmates, doing nothing more.

When he heard that his cellmates were planning to threaten Richard, he actively discouraged them, performing well. But he didn't expect it to still implicate him.

It was truly a case of "sitting in prison, trouble coming from the sky."

Tyson cursed until he was exhausted, lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling, feeling incredibly unlucky. From 1995 onwards, he felt he had been continuously unlucky. Maybe it was time to switch deities for blessings.

"Fuck! God, are you trying to kill me?!"

Tyson raised his fist and shouted at the sky.

"Hey, Mike, calm down. The newspaper headline might be misleading, but the content below is quite objective. Randall explained to the police in detail our discussions in prison and mentioned your warnings, indicating you had little to do with it. You don't need to worry too much."

His cellmate Hector tried to comfort him.

"Bullshit! You know nothing. People see the headline and naturally think I'm the mastermind behind it. Then they see our discussions in prison and say I told you to support Roy Jones, which is incitement. Although it finally says it's not related to me, what's the use? Who would believe a guy in prison?!"

Tyson cursed again, waving his fist.

"True, mainly because your reputation has been terrible these past few years: rape, assault, bribing opponents, biting ears in matches..."

"Shut up!"

Tyson shouted angrily, waving his fist, "This must be the idea of that old fox Don King. That sly fox is full of dirty tricks. To promote a match and make money, he'll use any lousy idea. And Richard Brad, that pretty boy, is also a little fox. This bastard likes to pull little stunts before every match. This time the match was about to start, but there was no movement. I thought he would fight clean like a real boxer, but didn't expect this. A shooting case that involved me. Such a good publicity opportunity, how could those two foxes miss it? Using the three most popular boxing champions in the US to hype it up, what a damn good idea! Don King, that old bastard, and Richard Brad, that pretty boy, must be making a fortune this time. Fuck, using my fame to make money, and I didn't get a cent. Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Tyson turned into an angry repeater.

Ding ding ding~

"Hey, Mike, your bet slip, thirty thousand on Roy Jones, Hector, here's yours, three thousand on Roy Jones. Now the odds for Roy Jones winning are 1:4.7. If he wins, we can make a lot."

A white youth with an eagle tattoo pushed a small cart and smiled outside the cell.

"1:4.7? Why did it increase so much?"

Hector happily took his bet slip.

Sss~ Sss~

Without a word, Tyson took the thirty-thousand bet slip and tore it to pieces.

"Hey, Mike, what are you doing? That's thirty thousand dollars. If Roy Jones wins, it will turn into hundreds of thousands. That's a lot of money."

Hector and the tattooed youth shouted.

"Bullshit, don't think about it. This time Roy Jones is bound to lose. He has no chance of winning."

Tyson threw away the pieces and shouted.

"How could he have no chance? Didn't you say a few days ago that Roy Jones was sure to win?"

The tattooed youth asked.

"Yes, the newspaper said Richard Brad has been busy filming movies for the past six months, with no time for training. He came to Las Vegas and spent every day shopping with his girlfriend, constantly appearing in entertainment sections. Can such a person win the match?"

Hector held the newspaper and said.

"Yes, this time Randall's actions were not without impact. He injured Richard's right leg, and Richard insisted on fighting despite the injury. Can't Roy Jones beat an injured boxer?"

The tattooed youth asked.

"Injured? Bullshit! Richard Brad, that bastard, always gets injured before a match. Last time, he said he was bitten by a shark, and nothing happened. What's a scratch this time? Even if he's injured and his right leg is useless, Roy Jones will still lose."

Tyson said with a dark face.

"Why?" the two people beside asked, puzzled.

"After the incident, many media outlets targeted Roy Jones, thinking it was him. They claimed that since he couldn't win, he used underhanded tactics to undermine his opponent. How much psychological pressure do you think this kind of public opinion would put on him? On the day of the match, the audience will surely be cheering for that pretty boy, Richard Brad. He acted like a hero during the shooting incident, and his popularity is now higher than that of top celebrities.

Additionally, Nevada is a place with a very dense white population. Richard Brad is seen as the 'great white hope'. When many white people are cheering for that pretty boy, how much psychological pressure will that put on Roy? And there's one more thing, which is the most important.

If Roy Jones loses, many will understand. 

But if he wins, defeating an injured Richard Brad, what will the boxing fans think? Those questioning voices will be like bullets, all aimed at him, criticizing him for having no sportsmanship, accusing him of using improper methods to win. That situation would be worse than losing.

So Roy Jones is destined to lose; he lost before even stepping into the ring," Tyson said with a somber expression.

"To win without fighting, Richard Brad is indeed formidable. Calling him a tactical master is no exaggeration," Hector remarked with emotion.

"No, it's all luck. That guy was supposed to lose, but unexpectedly encountered this situation. Randall is truly useless; four people with guns couldn't beat one person, what a waste," the tattooed youth cursed outside.

"Indeed, what a waste!" Tyson also expressed his displeasure, saying, "Four people with guns couldn't beat one guy. If they had killed him..."

"Hey, Avery, I'm back." 

While cursing, a man in an orange prison uniform was escorted in by prison guards. It was Randall, who had just left the prison not long ago.

"Hey, Randall, why are you talking with a lisp?" someone shouted.

"Haha, I heard he got punched by Richard, lost all his teeth," this remark caused a burst of laughter.

"Hey, Randall, the newspapers said you four had guns against Richard Brad alone, but still got beaten up and handed over to the police. Is that true?" someone asked.

"Yes, Richard Brad is too fierce. I declare, from now on, I am his fan," Randall shouted.

"Fuck, beaten and still want to be a fan? Were you paid off to act?" the tattooed youth cursed, pushing against his chest.

"Paid off? What payoff?" Randall was confused.

"Don't play dumb. If you weren't bought off, how could you not handle an unarmed guy?" the tattooed youth said, dissatisfied.

"It's really not my fault!" Randall spread his hands helplessly. "I didn't know Richard Brad was so tough. My gun was pointed at him, trying to scare him, but that bastard was laughing one second and the next second he quickly hit me with an uppercut to the jaw. The punch was fast and fierce, I blacked out immediately, and when I woke up, I was in the hospital."

"What about your three partners? Weren't they holding guns?" Tyson asked.

"Useless, after the fact, I asked them. They said Richard used me as a shield, quickly shot, hitting their wrists, arms, and shoulders. The guns fell to the ground, and before they could react, Richard knocked them out. They are still in the hospital recovering," Randall shrugged.

"Shooting down one per shot? Too fake!" 

"The newspapers said Richard didn't use a gun, just fists to beat four armed guys. Sounds like a lie."

"Haha, sounds like a scene from Superman," the prisoners around didn't believe it.

"But it's true. My three partners are still outside recovering. When they come in, you can ask them yourself. I'm not exaggerating," Randall shook his head and followed the prison guard.

"Fuck, I didn't expect Richard to be so strong. This time, we lost big," the tattooed youth cursed.

"Hmph, I told you not to act, what's the use of regret now," Tyson glanced at him and lay back on the bed.

"Hey, Tyson, you and Richard often exchanged insults before, when will you two fight? Can you beat him?" the tattooed youth asked.

"Of course, dealing with that trickster, one punch is enough to KO him!" Tyson said confidently, holding his fist.

"Haha, good, when you two fight, I'll bet on you to win," the tattooed youth said, continuing to deliver books and letters with his cart.

Tyson lay on the bed, looking at the negative news in the newspaper, his mood turned gloomy. He was supposed to be out of prison in over a month, but now he was implicated as the mastermind behind the shooting. How to clear his name this time? Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!

---

Bang! Bang! Bang!

While the shooting incident was the hot topic nationwide, Richard, the person involved, didn't pay much attention to it. He spent his time and energy in the boxing club.

Despite the massive fan following, the numerous news stories portraying him as a hero, a superstar, or a 'tactical master', he always remembered his identity as a boxer and his mission to win the 'unification fight for the gold belt'.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Richard hit the rubber punching bag hard, making a loud noise. The rubber of this punching bag was similar to that used to make airplane tires, durable and resilient, making it very handy for training.

After training for half a day, Richard's body was covered in sweat, and his muscles became more solid and full. Although his physique wasn't as exaggerated as that of a bodybuilding champion, each muscle was perfectly shaped, full of explosive power.

"Hey, Richard, stop!" Paul ran to the punching bag, holding his fist excitedly, "I just tested my punching power on that machine, guess how much it was?"

"How much?" Richard put down his fists.

"Hey, 1200 pounds exactly," Paul grinned, showing his white teeth.

"Not bad, you can rank in the top twenty," Richard smiled.

"What about you?" Paul asked curiously.

"I didn't test."

"Why not?"

"I'm worried about breaking the machine," Richard laughed.

"Tch, do you think you're Superman? Why don't you test it now?"

"No need, I know I'm strong enough!" Richard waved his fist with a smile.

The training club had a high-tech gadget called a punching power tester, which could measure a boxer's punching power. Tyson had previously set a record of 1500 pounds on this machine.

The measurement mode of this machine was to calculate the punch's force through the thrust generated during the strike. As long as it exceeded one centimeter, it was considered effective, and it estimated the puncher's punching power accordingly.

An average person, when fully exerting themselves, could push a 300-400 pound object. 

Boxers train every day, their explosive power is much stronger, hitting several hundred pounds to over a thousand pounds isn't too difficult. Richard hadn't tested it, but he knew his explosive power wouldn't be less than Tyson's.

After training in the afternoon, he and Paul, along with Mike, returned to the New York Hotel.

This hotel had forty-nine floors, standing at 161 meters tall, it was one of the tallest buildings in Las Vegas. His suite was on the 48th floor, with a panoramic floor-to-ceiling window offering a stunning view of the bustling cityscape.

"Richard, you're back!" Lawyer Gilbert walked out of the room.

"Gil, is the case settled?" 

"Yes, the main perpetrator is a repeat offender, committing robbery and assault while on bail, causing severe impact. The preliminary trial sentenced him to five years in prison and a $20,000 fine. The other three were lightly punished due to injuries. What do you think?"

Richard smiled lightly, "This is the court's decision, what can I do?"

"This is just the preliminary trial. If you're dissatisfied with the verdict, we have the right to appeal for a retrial."

"Forget it, no need to waste time on this," Richard poured him a glass of red wine.

"And Tyson, although he tried to persuade a few inmates, he also bet on Roy Jones to win afterward. So he is a knowing party. If the threats a few days ago had succeeded, he would have been a beneficiary. Strictly speaking, he could be considered part of the criminal group. Should we continue to pursue him? That guy has a lot of money," Gilbert smiled with a crooked mouth.

Richard shook his head, "Let's stop here. This incident was an accident. Because of this accident, the match has attracted nationwide, even worldwide, attention. It's said the prize money might exceed ten million. Haha, I gain both fame and fortune, I can't ask for more.

Also, Tyson, although his reputation has significantly declined in recent years, is still much stronger than a newcomer like me. If we continue to pursue this, it might provoke the boxing fans' displeasure, and that would be counterproductive."

Gilbert nodded, "Richard, you're right. However, letting it go like this, the other party might complacently think we didn't catch any loopholes. We can use this to scare him, then withdraw the lawsuit in a few days, giving the boxing king some face."

"Okay, don't blow things up. Sometimes, being too famous isn't a good thing either," Richard said, looking at the skyscrapers outside the floor-to-ceiling window.

"Haha, Richard, you're only twenty-one, the age for being reckless. Worrying too much will make you age prematurely."

Gilbert laughed.

"Thanks for the reminder!"

Richard clinked his glass with his.

"Hey, you guys have time to drink here while we're exhausted."

At the door, Anthony returned, accompanied by Andy, Old Hall, and Bob Lewitt.

The media interviews had been overwhelming lately. In the past, at most a dozen media outlets were interested in his news, but now it's hundreds.

He was too busy with training to deal with them, so he pushed Anthony and the others to handle it. These guys manage his film, boxing, and PR affairs, and dealing with the media is part of their job.

"Haha, you guys have worked hard."

Richard laughed and poured a glass of red wine for his work partners.

"Richard, you're really on fire now! You're even hotter than top celebrities. Every piece of news about you makes it to the entertainment and sports headlines. The media reporters just won't leave us alone. From the day before yesterday to today, we've dealt with over eighty media outlets. Haha, it's just crazy."

Anthony laughed, slapping his leg.

"This is just temporary, like a bubble. It will return to normal after a while."

Richard smiled lightly.

"Richard, you're a big star now. Why don't you seem excited at all?"

Anthony frowned.

"Haha, I was just talking about this. Richard is so steady. He's become a nationwide idol and still acts like nothing happened."

Gilbert laughed.

"Staying steady is good!"

Old Hall took out a few newspapers. "Look at these news stories. While the shooting case is making headlines, many people are questioning its authenticity. Because Richard has a criminal record and is known as the 'Tactical Master,' some suspect this is another publicity stunt and are calling Richard a fraud.

I think these suspicions will grow louder after the fight. We should take precautions in advance."

"Right, I've noticed that too."

Bob Lewitt nodded.

"No worries, if anyone writes nonsense, we'll sue them."

Gilbert said.

"Yes, controversy brings popularity. Being controversial is what makes a star. These suspicions are normal, no need to be overly concerned."

Anthony said.

Richard nodded slightly, "Public opinion is a double-edged sword. In the coming period, you all need to pay close attention to the direction of public opinion. If necessary, spend money on PR to guide it and try not to let it turn too negative."

"Got it!"

The others agreed.

After finishing the meeting, Richard stretched and turned on his phone, which he hadn't touched all day.

Lately, too many people had been calling him at odd times, disrupting his training, so he turned off his phone and only returned calls after training each day.

Today, there were many missed calls from Neal Moritz, Reese, Theron, Sarah, Keanu Reeves, Jude Law, Jessica, Gwyneth, Angelina Jolie, Ivanka, Paris, and many other acquaintances.

Richard smiled lightly, prepared his charger and bottled water, and sat by the floor-to-ceiling window to return calls one by one. From dusk till nightfall, he made calls until it was dark.

"Haha, Richard, we're back. We've got some good news to share."

Before dark, Mrs. Bündchen and two others returned, dressed in stylish outfits and with happy smiles, indicating something good had happened.

"Shh!"

Richard gestured for silence, made a few more calls, and then put away his now hot phone.

"Phew, finally done. Darling, what good news do you have?"

Richard rubbed his ears and asked.

"Nothing, I don't want to say it anymore!"

Mrs. Bündchen leaned on the sofa, covering her face with a magazine.

"Really not going to say? Then I might have to use some interrogation techniques."

Richard laughed, reaching out to hug her, his hands beginning to wander.

"You scoundrel, stop it! Hahaha, okay, I'll tell you, just let go."

Mrs. Bündchen laughed, her cheeks turning red.

"No, I'm not that easy to convince. Maybe if you kiss me, I might consider it."

Richard grinned mischievously.

"You scoundrel, stop it!"

Mrs. Bündchen held his face and rubbed it, finally giving him a passionate kiss.

"Not bad."

Richard smiled gently and stopped his mischief. "Now, tell me, what's the good news?"

"Hmph, you rascal!"

Mrs. Bündchen glared at him, adjusted her nightgown, and reached behind a cushion to pull out a contract.

"What is this? Victoria's Secret?" 

Richard flipped through the document, which appeared to be a runway contract for a lingerie brand.

"Haha, Victoria's Secret is currently the top lingerie brand. Every year, they invite numerous top or high-profile models to walk their runway. Those who perform well can even land endorsements and become spokesmodels. Once you become a spokesperson, you can step into the ranks of supermodels.

Today, both Ann and I received runway invitation contracts from our respective agencies. Don't you find it a bit strange?"

"What about Angela?"

"She got a CK new product endorsement. Afterward, the three of us discussed it. Angela had already received the Victoria's Secret invitation, so she's different from us. Clearly, they know our situation very well. Do you know why?"

Mrs. Bündchen asked.

Richard thought for a moment and nodded slightly, "A lingerie show? Do you want to take it?"

"Yes, Victoria's Secret is a great platform. My agency has been working on PR for me since the beginning of the year. They said the competition is fierce and it would take a long time to get results. But I didn't expect the opportunity to come so suddenly."

Mrs. Bündchen smiled.

Richard rubbed his forehead. "Alright, I respect your decision."

"Is there any problem with this contract?"

Mrs. Bündchen asked.

"No problem!"

He took out his phone and made a call to Don King, expressing his gratitude.

These three contracts were part of what Don King had arranged, though they were just lingerie show contracts, showing little sincerity. Disappointing!

"This is related to Don King? Would taking it affect you?"

Mrs. Bündchen frowned.

"No, it won't. Last time's incident gave you all a scare. This is his way of showing goodwill. My projects with him are worth millions, and your contracts are only worth tens of thousands, at most a small interest."

"Really?"

Mrs. Bündchen stared into his eyes.

"Haha, really. I'm a money tree right now. He wants to befriend me and work with me, and he has a lot of influence. I also want to work with him. With this gesture, our cooperation will go further. So, darling, you don't need to worry. We should go to bed."

Richard chuckled and picked her up.

"Ah, what are you doing?"

"Haha, of course, we're going to do what we love the most."

"Wait, Angela and the others are still waiting for news. Let me talk to them first."

"It's okay, we can talk while we do it!"

Richard laughed heartily, carrying the beautiful woman into the bedroom. 

(End of this chapter)