Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion

Bang bang!

As soon as the match started, Link ignored the straight punch thrown by Beirut and clenched his fist to strike back faster, landing a solid blow to Beirut's left ribs.

Although the sponge in the boxing glove provided some cushioning, the massive weight of the punch sent shock waves that made Beirut stagger. A muffled grunt came from his mouth, his attack malformed, and his fist passed by Link's left shoulder, resting almost against it.

Link did not give his opponent a chance to react after the successful hit and followed with a rapid right upper hook punch, ascending from below through Beirut's guard and striking his jaw.

Beirut's body shot upward and his jaw clicked. Although the mouthguard protected his teeth and tongue, the fierce collision caused his lower jaw to slam hard against his upper jaw, his neck bending backward with a crisp sound.

Beirut couldn't help but see stars and tasted blood in his mouth.

Too close for comfort, he instinctively stepped back in an attempt to evade Link's onslaught.

But at that moment, Link suddenly increased the frequency of attacks, pummeling fist after fist into his face, left ribs, and right abdomen.

He let loose over a dozen punches in one breath, a fierce torrent of moves sealing off any opening.

The barrage of attacks was extremely difficult for Beirut to endure.

Just as the symptoms of tooth pain and dizziness did not subside, he felt pain in his liver, stomach, and nose as his head was struck repeatedly, disorienting him even further.

He completely lost track of where he was and what he was doing.

At that moment, Beirut felt like he did as a child bathing in the river when he accidentally got caught in a whirlpool. No matter how he struggled, he couldn't break free from the grip of the water's flow.

A strong sense of suffocation closed off his mouth and nose, leaving him gasping for air and his mind blank.

"Wow, that's fast!"

"Link is going to win."

"Come on, Beirut! Protect the fairy sister!"

From the stands, everyone saw Link unleashing punches in rapid succession, each strike landing like a hammer on Beirut's head and upper body.

With each hit, Beirut's body kept retreating backward, his chin and corner of his mouth dripping with blood, his appearance growing more and more pitiful.

Seeing Link fight like this, the audience's eyes widened, tensely focused on the match on the stage.

They gasped in sync with Link's movements, involuntarily letting out exclamations, like puppets captivated by the match.

"Hit him, hit him! That's it, Link is too fast."

Below the stage, Zou Shiming was too excited and instinctively stood up, mirroring Link's movements by swinging his fists and punching the air.

The TVB cameraman captured him, ready to use the footage as behind-the-scenes material.

Next to him, Xiong Chaozhong stared at the match on the stage, his fists clenched tightly, his biceps bulging and his expression ferocious as if he were channeling Link's role and exerting force with him.

"Break!"

The ring referee saw Beirut subdued by Link's relentless hits against the ropes, his body limp and defenseless.

To prevent any accidents, he stepped in to intervene, halting Link's assault.

Link pulled back his fist, took a step back, and shook off the sweat and blood from his gloves.

Beirut's body collapsed, leaning against the ropes and sliding down to the canvas.

The referee knelt down to check Beirut's condition but didn't get a chance to ask anything before the bell rang.

Ding ding ding!

The bell signified the end of the first round, and Beirut's coaching team immediately supported him, retreating to the corner of the ring to treat his wounds.

It was only then that the audience, both at ringside and in front of the TVs, exhaled a sigh of relief.

With their attention freed, they looked back and forth between the treated Beirut and Link sitting and resting on a stool.

Their mouths too regained freedom, buzzing with discussions and debates about the match with the people around them.

"Eddie, looking at Beirut's state, do you still think your strategy is effective?"

Hoyle turned to Eddie Hearn, who had stood up, with a meaningful smile on his face.

With a frown, Eddie Hearn looked solemn.

In the past, watching Link's boxing matches, he found Link's fighting style to be gentle. He usually just knocked out his opponents without too much bloodshed, and the chance of getting injured was very small.

Everyone thought Link was a flower raised in a greenhouse, unequipped to handle truly harsh conditions.

But unexpectedly, once Link got fierce, he became terrifying. His punches were relentless, and he could beat his opponents to death, not appearing easy to provoke at all.

"Eddie, Link's gentle fighting style in the past was because he never met strong opponents and never applied his full strength. If you really think you can take advantage of his mild temper, then you are underestimating Link," said Franco, standing and clapping his hands in support of Link.

Eddie Hearn tightened his frown and watched Link closely, realizing that indeed, he may have misjudged him.

Having talked to Link a few times before, Eddie found him to be a humorous person, often with a sunny, cheerful smile on his face and a very approachable manner without any pretense. Everyone thought he was benevolent and gentle.

But they never envisioned him showing such an ironclad, ruthless side when provoked.

"Link like this is indeed scary. However, when he is angered, the rhythm of the match is disrupted, and his attacks are not as tight and orderly as before. I still believe this method is the best way to deal with Link. If Beirut were a bit taller, with a stronger ability to take hits, it's not certain that Link's approach could beat him," Eddie Hearn said.

Hoyle thought about it for a while and had to admit that Eddie Hearn had a point.

If Holyfield and Tyson were younger and used illegal tactics against Link, it wouldn't be easy for Link to defeat them.

Moreover, at 186 centimeters, Link's height was decent below the light heavyweight division.

In the heavyweight division, where the average height is over 190 centimeters and without the advantages of height and arm reach, winning a match would likely be even more challenging.

Maybe they could adopt the competitive room promotion company's tactics and use such a brutal fighting style against Link.

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Employing this strategy could break Link's fighting rhythm, preventing him from controlling the pace of the match.

Moreover, using this style would undoubtedly enhance the entertainment value and generate more buzz, leading to increased PPV revenue.

Hoyle nodded to himself, deciding to research it as soon as he returned.

"What are you two thinking about? You don't seriously believe that this will be enough to beat Link, do you?"

Franco frowned at them, noting that all three of them were in their thirties or forties, which was young compared to figures like Lou Duvall, Don King, and Bob Arum.

In the realm of boxing promotion, he was part of the younger generation, speaking more casually and not like those old timers who would lay three traps in a single sentence and had more tricks up their alley than a fishing net had holes.

"Whether it's possible or not, we'll know once we try,"

Eddie Hearn said with a smile.

Hoyle was also ready to give it a try, and as for the risk of boxers getting injured? There was no need to worry about that at all.

Boxing has been a dangerous sport since its inception, with protective gear required in the amateur stages to safeguard the boxer's life.

In professional boxing, injuries and deaths are all too common occurrences.

Originally, boxing matches lasted 15 rounds. In 1982, during the WBA Lightweight title defense match, American champion Ray Mancini vs. Korean challenger Duk Koo Kim.

Outmatched, Kim persevered until the 14th round but died from injuries sustained during the match. The tragic outcome led to his mother committing suicide from grief, and the referee of the match took his own life out of guilt. Mancini retired early due to the remorse he felt.

This match claimed three lives and forced the four major organizations to revise the rules, reducing the number of rounds from 15 to 12, and for the rookie professional boxers' ranking matches, even to fewer than 10 rounds.

Additionally, referees in boxing matches are granted more authority, allowing them to stop a fight promptly if there's a significant skill gap between the fighters.

Although boxing rules have become more humane, injuries are still an inevitable part of the sport. Almost every professional fight involves bloodshed, and nearly every boxer has earned their Golden Belt at the cost of injury.

This is part of the charm that sets professional boxing apart from amateur boxing.

Among the current boxers, Link and Mayweather have the least injuries.

Mayweather, after a match with a clean face devoid of cuts, is nicknamed 'Pretty Boy.'

And Link, known for his meticulous defense, rarely gets injured, earning titles such as 'The Man with the Unblemished Body' and 'Superman Link.'

But if all the boxers were prepared to play rough against him, it would be very difficult for him to maintain the reputation of having an unblemished body.

"Wow, I never knew watching a boxing match live could be so thrilling,"

Said Pan Weibai from beneath the boxing ring, wiping his forehead. Unknowingly, he had worked up a sweat, caught up in the tense rhythm of the match.

"It's indeed very different from watching it on TV; the sweat, blood, and physical collisions are so exhilarating,"

Lin Junjie breathed in deeply, relaxing his tensed muscles.

Just now, when he saw Link pummeling Beirut, influenced by the live atmosphere, his muscles had involuntarily tightened. Relaxing them now, his arm muscles ached slightly, as if he had just gone through an intense workout.

"Jelun, what do you think?"

Pan Weibai shouted across a few seats to Jelun.

Jelun gave a nonchalant nod with his mouth slightly drooping and arms folded, "Not bad at all!"

"Link is so cool, so good-looking, and so powerful. Link, I love you,"

Just as Jelun was about to talk to Pan Weibai, he suddenly heard an excited shout near him.

His face fell as he involuntarily looked at his eighteen-year-old girlfriend, Kun Ling, who was acting like a little fan with her cheeks flushed, eyes glued to Link on the boxing ring, endlessly praising how great and amazing Link was, and declaring her love for him.

Jelun's mouth twisted slightly, "I'm also pretty awesome; I've played basketball with Kobe."

"Yes, you're very awesome, and so is Link,"

Responded Kun Ling, without taking her eyes off Link.

Jelun felt annoyed. How could his girlfriend praise another man right in front of him? If he had known, he would have given his ticket to Wensan and not brought Kun Ling to watch the match live.

Across from Jelun, in a different seating area, the fairy-like Chris Liu was also present.

She wore a duckbill hat, a simple T-shirt, and jeans, with only half her delicate cheek exposed. Her hands were clenched into fists resting against her chest as her beautiful phoenix eyes stared unblinkingly at the corner of the ring.

She was not far from the referee's seat, enjoying a clearer view and could see everything on the boxing ring distinctly.

Having never seen a professional boxing match live, she had never found them as intense and thrilling on television as they felt today watching Link fight, witnessing him both land and receive punches.

Every time Link got hit, her heart pounded with fear, causing her breathing to become labored as if she, too, was taking the blows. It was an unbearably uncomfortable feeling.

"Mom, is Link okay?"

"Don't worry, he's so capable, nothing can happen to him,"

Liu Li patted her shoulder in reassurance.

"He's hurt his mouth corner,"

Chris Liu noted as she saw the doctor attending to Link's mouth with a cotton swab. She touched her own lip corner gently, feeling a semblance of pain.

"A little wound is nothing; his opponent's condition is much worse,"

Said Liu Li, trying to comfort her.

"Feifei, don't worry, Link is fine. He's so powerful, nobody can beat him,"

Someone leaned in and whispered softly, the voice smooth with a hint of amusement.

Chris nodded and simply said thank you to Sister Bingbing, continuing to watch Link with her unwavering gaze.

Ding, ding, ding!

The bell for the second round rang.

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