Chapter 16: I’m So Awesome, Seven Birds with One Stonewith One Stone

"Boss, won't we lose money if we do it this way?"

In an office, a subordinate raised a question to Boss Andy.

"Do I ever do losing business?"

Andy sneered while biting his cigar.

Montel had lost his championship belt and started mingling in the underground boxing scene, liking to challenge top fighters. Upon learning this, Andy sent over several tapes of New York's top underground fighters. Montel chose Richard, who had an undefeated record.

Andy was pleased and offered to host the match voluntarily.

He had three reasons for this:

First, to make money.

Richard and Montel's appearance fees were not high. He didn't plan to cheat, and hiring referees wouldn't cost much. Ticket sales, match videos, betting, and drinks could all bring in significant revenue.

Second, to gain a reputation.

After the last conflict, the Bronx underground forces underwent a reshuffle. Andy leaned towards the police, catching the eyes of various factions. Andy was marginalized and almost couldn't stay afloat, so he had to find ways to go legitimate. 

In this process, he needed to show a proactive stance on local affairs. Hosting a boxing match to promote sports spirit and community harmony was a good idea. If he performed well, he might join the New York State Athletic Commission or even run for district council.

Third, after attempting to go legitimate, Andy consolidated some underground businesses, including bars, boxing gyms, and fitness centers, creating a company called Star Sports Entertainment Promotion. This match was the company's first project. Doing it well could not only make money but also establish the company's reputation and set it on the right path.

In addition to these three reasons, there were fourth, fifth, sixth, and seventh reasons. Seven birds with one stone, I'm truly amazing. Andy snapped his fingers, very pleased with his planning.

"Anything else?"

He looked at his former underling, now a project manager.

"Boss, after the match news went public, many casinos set up betting pools. 90% of people are betting on Montel to win, and 10% on Richard, with the highest odds reaching 1:18. Which side should we bet on?"

The subordinate asked.

"No one has faith in Richard?"

"None. The gap is too wide, like a primary school student versus a university student."

"Hahaha, what has Richard been doing these days?"

"Training at the gym. He seems confident about the match, showing no signs of stress."

"Hmph, that kid is always so confident, really annoying." Andy squinted. "Let's hold off on the betting for now. That kid never does anything he's not confident about. Just not sure what script he's got this time."

---

Bang! Bang, bang, bang!

In the boxing gym, Richard was sparring with Paul, who was wearing custom-made iron gloves. Since donning the special gloves, Paul had gone wild, throwing heavy punches like sandbags at Richard. But Richard couldn't retreat; he had to catch Paul's punches to achieve the training effect.

On the first day, Richard lasted twelve rounds without falling, but he was beaten terribly. That night, Susan almost didn't recognize him, asking why he was wearing a pig head mask.

"..."

Richard was speechless.

After several days, the injuries, bruises, and swelling on his face still hadn't fully subsided. Considering his strong recovery ability, where gunshot wounds healed in less than half a month, the fact that his face injuries were still visible after five or six days showed how hard Paul was hitting.

The most annoying thing was that Paul had a grudge against handsome people and loved aiming for Richard's face.

Bang! Another heavy punch from Paul aimed at his face, strong and powerful. Richard calmly sidestepped, countering with an uppercut to Paul's left jaw before Paul could pull back.

Wham! Paul's jaw shifted, facial muscles rippling, sweat flying off his hair to the right.

Wham! Richard didn't let up, landing another punch on Paul's cheek. Paul was dazed, stumbling back, hanging onto the ropes, drenched in sweat, eyes glazed over as if knocked out.

Wearing special gloves made Paul's punches more lethal, but constant attacking drained his stamina quickly. By the seventh or eighth round, his stamina was severely depleted, movements slowed, making him no longer a match for Richard. A few more punches from Richard and Paul was down for the count.

"Stop!" Alvin waved, calling two apprentices to help Paul sit down, giving him water and a massage.

"You're barely passing," Alvin said.

On the first day, during their twelve-round spar, Richard took over twenty heavy punches to the face. Today, he only took two, blocking or dodging the rest. It showed great improvement and even greater potential, making Alvin very pleased.

"But Montel is not Paul. Montel's punches may not be as strong, but he's faster and more agile, making him harder to dodge. Before the match, you need to rest and focus on speed training."

"Got it!"

Richard wiped his hair with a towel. Despite only sparring for eight rounds, he was as sweaty as Paul, looking like he just came out of the water.

Alvin handed him a water bottle. "Rest well these days. Avoid rolling in the sheets with that model; it can affect your performance."

"Don't worry. I haven't seen her in days."

Richard shrugged.

---

Leaving the gym, Richard didn't drive. The gym was on Youth Park Street, not far from Jackson Street. Hands in his pockets, he walked, thinking about the match. Although confident in winning, facing a real champion for the first time made him nervous and excited. The professional ring was more regulated than the underground, with more top fighters and greater rewards. In the professional ring, how far could he go? Could he win the championship belt? Reach the heights of Tyson and Lewis?

Richard waved his fists. Definitely! I can do anything!

Beep beep!

A pickup truck pulled up, with used car dealer Charles leaning out the window.

"Hey, Richard, what are you doing here?"

"Taking a walk!"

Richard opened the door and got in. "Charles, what are you doing here?"

"Heading to the bar for a drink. Want to join?"

"No, just finished training. A bit tired."

Richard leaned back in the seat, yawning.

"How's training? Confident about the match?"

Charles asked.

"Yep, you believe me?"

Richard turned, smiling.

"Sure! I'm betting on you again."

Charles laughed.

"Haha, I won't let you down. I'm aiming to win within ten rounds by TKO."

In boxing, a KO is a one-punch knockout, rendering the opponent unable to fight back. A TKO, or technical knockout, is when the opponent can't continue due to injuries, and the referee stops the fight for safety reasons.

"TKO?"

Charles coughed, taking a drag from his cigarette. "This time it's a real champion. You sure about your script?"

Richard shrugged. "I trust my fists."

"Haha, as long as you're confident."

At Jackson Street, Charles stopped the car. Richard waved and walked home, imagining himself as a cool and quiet handsome guy from a comic.

Beep beep!

Another horn honked. Richard turned, raising an eyebrow.

"Bündchen, what brings you here?"

"Can't I come?"

Bündchen tilted her head.

"Of course, I'm happy you did."

"Why are you happy?"

"Don't know, just am."

Richard smiled lightly and got into Bündchen's car.

(Chapter End)