Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion

"Link! Link! Wake up!"

Link opened his eyes and set aside the Playboy magazine covering his face, squinting as the brilliant Miami sunshine hit his handsome face.

Fat James, wearing an oversized beach t-shirt and sporting a Miami Heat cap askew, looked out at the distant ocean with a heavy heart.

"What happened?"

Link stretched, then fished a bottle of mineral water out of the ice bucket, gulping down half of it in one go.

"It's that girl named Taylor. She went into the water almost two hours ago and hasn't come up; she didn't take an air tank. I'm worried something might have happened to her,"

Fat James said, pointing towards the distant ocean.

This place is in Miami, Florida, in the middle of Palm Bay Gold Beach at the Baker Dive Equipment Rental Shop. Link is the manager of this shop, and Fat James is his partner.

"She's been gone for two hours? How do you know that?"

Link asked, looking at Fat James with a puzzled expression.

This section is a public beach; the water is clear, the waves are mild, and there are large coral reefs nearby, making it a popular spot for diving. Therefore, numerous tourists come here daily to rent diving gear.

During peak times, the little Baker shop can rent out more than ten sets a day. Now it's May, the peak season for beach holidays, and the shop had already issued six sets this morning.

With so many tourists going into the water, it's difficult to remember everyone's diving time.

Fat James' face turned red under Link's gaze, and he stuttered, adjusting his cap's brim, "I, I saw her, okay, I'll admit it, she's really beautiful, with blond hair and a great figure, like a model. I noticed her the moment she walked into the shop."

Link chuckled lightly; so he had a crush. He yawned again and lay back down, saying, "Don't worry, tall people generally have good diving skills. Nothing will have happened."

"Let's go check it out. If an accident happens nearby, it could affect our business too. For the sake of U.S. dollars, let's go take a look."

Fat James shook his shoulder with a pitiful look in his eyes that made Link feel a bit helpless. Are you asking me to rush to her rescue out of love? You're such a dog.

But considering the shop's business, he grabbed some diving gear from the store and got into a speedboat to search the nearby shallow areas.

The public beach has a depth of up to 60 meters nearby, with mild currents and clear water, making it suitable for diving adventures. Most tourists visiting Miami to play in the water choose this area, except for the few who like adventures.

Link drove the speedboat in circles within 1-2 nautical miles off the coast, observing the surroundings, and at around 800 meters from the shore, he discovered a red hair tie entangled with strands of golden-brown hair.

Link looked around but saw neither floating bodies nor living people; he could not determine the whereabouts of the girl.

His only option was to dive in.

He was a cross-time traveler; ever since crossing over, his strength, endurance, speed, and reaction capability had all significantly improved. In shallow waters, he needed only a few pieces of basic diving equipment to swim very quickly.

It was between two and three in the afternoon; the temperature at the water's surface was over 20°C, making it very comfortable to soak in.

Link dived down more than ten meters below the surface, through the light blue water he could see the coral reefs on the ocean floor, and schools of colorful ribbonfish, cutlassfish, and white-scaled fish darting around the corals.

The underwater world was novel and stunning, sparking one's desire to explore. However, it also harbored many dangers, such as long-thorned corals, poisonous jellyfish, and stinging fire coral clusters— all of which are deadly threats to divers and common causes of accidents.

Circling around several dangerous areas, Link saw no blood and no one trapped in the corals. The water was calm and smooth; James's worries were unnecessary.

Upon surfacing, a young man wearing a Baker Dive suit, clinging to the side of the speedboat, called out with a smile, "Hey, Mr. Baker, are you here for a dive too?"

"No, I'm here looking for someone—a tall girl with blond hair wearing a Baker Dive suit. Have you seen her?"

"I ran into one about half an hour ago. She seemed to be heading that way; she was swimming really fast."

The customer pointed towards a small island two to three nautical miles away.

"Got it, thanks!"

Bidding farewell to the customer, Link steered the speedboat toward the small island.

The island was not large, rising more than ten meters above the water with a maximum width of no more than five hundred meters, shaped like a mango with black rock walls dotted with many low-growing plants. At times, it was completely submerged during high tide.

Circling the island in the speedboat, Link spotted a tall girl on a flat patch of black rock on the eastern side.

The girl had her wet hair draped down, and her wetsuit was taken off and placed on the rocks, wearing only a spotty bikini. Her figure was close to 180 centimeters tall, with fair and clean skin, a slenderness typical of a young girl, and also the vibrancy and sexiness of a teenager, blooming yet still reserved, which indeed offered a lot to be admired.

The girl sat on a rock, her left calf bleeding, seemingly preparing to undo her bra to bandage the wound. Hearing the sound of the speedboat's engine, she instead put it back on.

"Hey, do you need some help?"

"Yes, sir, my calf got scratched by a rock, and I need some treatment,"

the girl responded loudly.

Link, driving the speedboat, slowly approached the small island and stopped next to a rock, inviting the girl on board.

As the girl got closer, he realized she looked somewhat familiar, resembling the big star Taylor Swift, with blue foxy eyes and a pert nose flanked by a few brown freckles, which made her look very fresh.

Thinking of Fatty James who had called her Taylor, and connecting it to the beach music festival that was recently held in Miami, it was very likely that she was Taylor Swift.

However, it was now 2008, and Swift had only debuted two years ago as a country music singer, not very famous in the pop music scene. Link could pretend not to recognize her.

"How did you get hurt?"

"Just my luck. I barely grazed against a coral reef, and my calf got scratched,"

the girl complained, holding her fair and slender calf, looking at the three-centimeter-long bleeding wound.

"Your wetsuit is not sturdy enough, not suitable for diving in areas dense with coral reefs."

Link glanced at the wetsuit beside the girl, which was made of nylon fabric, more form-fitting but of lower quality than Lycra and cheaper to rent.

"I understand, when I rented this wetsuit, that fat clerk told me it was robust enough to handle the nearby waters. Turns out, it's not sturdy at all. I'm going to give him a piece of my mind."

"You should,"

Link chuckled lightly, spared a thought of sympathy for the fat clerk for a couple of seconds.

The speedboat reached the public dock and stopped, and Fatty James, panting, hurried over, asking solicitously, "Miss Taylor, how did you get injured?"

"You told me this wetsuit was very sturdy. It tore just from touching the coral reef, and also injured my calf. How are you going to compensate me?"

The girl, with her arms folded across her chest, asked while staring at the red-faced fat man.

Fatty James, sweating profusely, gestured desperately while explaining, "In our shop, only four wetsuits fit your size, and three were already rented out, only this one was left."

"Then you should have told me the truth, and I could have rented from another store. There's more than one dive shop here. Your deception caused me to miss tomorrow's rehearsal, which has a terrible impact. How are you going to compensate me?"

The girl asked, her presence dominating.

"I, I..."

Fatty retreated two steps in fear, but upon seeing Link coming up holding the diving gear, he quickly ran behind Link and exclaimed, "He's the owner, you ask him to compensate."

"You're the owner?"

Taylor turned her head in surprise, looking at the tall, handsome man who wasn't very talkative.

"Yes, my name is Link Baker, and I'm the owner of Baker Dive Shop. Shall we go inside and talk about it?"

Link said with a light laugh.

Taylor, dazzled by his bright smile and handsome face, waved her hand and said, "Let's forget about it, you've already helped me."

"Don't mention it. The shop has a first aid kit, I'll help you disinfect and dress the wound first. It's not a deep wound; it should scab over in three to four days,"

Link pointed at her calf.

"Okay, thank you."

Taylor, leaning on his arm, limped into Baker Dive Shop on the fine soft white sand.