novelhk Page 235
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The news reached the top-floor office of the SkyCity Tower in Chicago.
Victor Lee stood by the window, looking down at the city that was gradually coming back to life.
His assistant awaited instructions.
“Tell him,”
Victor didn't turn around, his voice icy, "I'm busy right now, preparing to go to London for a fight. I don't have time for his troubles. Everything will be handled according to legal procedures."
Heartless and ruthless.
He refused to settle.
For Viktor, TLP was no longer an equal opponent, but a fallen prey, waiting for the right moment to give him one last bite and fatten him up.
While business battles and internal purges were important, Victor never forgot his other crucial identity and source of wealth:
World heavyweight boxing champion.
His fists were the initial key to his entry into high society, and also the key to maintaining his influence and personal brand.
On May 20, 1988, he will face a challenger at Wembley Stadium in London – “The Brown Bomber” Joe Lewis.
This is not just a title defense, but a globally watched spectacle involving huge prize money, prestige, and the casino and betting profits behind it.
After dealing with the emergency in Chicago and cornering TLP, Victor immediately turned his attention to preparations for war.
He arrived at his private training camp, which he had set up on the shore of a secluded lake in Chicago, by private jet.
The facilities here are top-notch, and the security is tight, isolating it from all external interference.
His training team—coaches, strength and conditioning coach, nutritionist, and sparring partners—was already in place. Victor Lee immediately threw himself into the hellish training regimen.
The training is scientific and brutal.
Every morning, I run long distances, honing my heart, lungs, and willpower amidst the sound of the waves.
The morning session was a complex technical battle, with Joe Louis' coaching team devising detailed tactics to target his style, look for his habitual movements and potential weaknesses.
The afternoon consisted of exhausting strength training and impact resistance training.
Viktor was like a precise machine, meticulously executing every plan.
Looking at Victor, who was sweating profusely, Old Jack said to his assistant, "He's the most focused boxer I've ever seen. There are hundreds of millions of dollars worth of business waiting for him outside, but as soon as he enters the gym, all he can think about is boxing. It's like those business battles are another form of training for him."
Indeed, for Victor, the business battlefield and the boxing ring are essentially the same:
Analyze your adversaries (audit fraudsters, TLP, Lewis), identify weaknesses (financial loopholes, tax issues, technical deficiencies), formulate strategies (purge, bottom-fishing, kicking someone when they're down, tactical arrangements), and then execute them ruthlessly (exile, acquisition, seizure, defeat).
Both require a heart of stone, and absolute calmness and focus.
There was no entertainment or visitors at the training camp.
Only through arduous training and tactical review day after day.
Victor Lee was covered in new bruises, his muscles groaning at their limit, but his eyes remained sharp, filled with a thirst for victory.
He knew that the Battle of London was a must.
Although Joe Lewis knew the chances were slim, he was determined to give it his all; no one could resist the temptation of tens of millions of dollars.
This is not just about the gold belt, but also about his business image and global influence.
A victory would greatly boost the morale of Skywind City Group and bring him more bargaining chips and attention.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the Atlantic, the London media also began to hype up the upcoming battle.
Viktor's mysterious background, his rise in the business world—and his recent bargain-hunting activities, which some British media interpreted as a "Chicago capital invasion"—and his feud with TLP all became side stories surrounding the fight, making the boxing match more of a spectacle than a sporting event.
Victor's team also sent advance personnel to London in advance to arrange everything, including accommodation, transportation, press conferences, and venue familiarization.
He ensured that every detail was under control, just as he controlled real estate auctions in Chicago.
The cleanup in Chicago was nearing its end, and the exiles quietly made their way to the farm in Tulsa.
The transfer of property rights is completed step by step in an "efficient" process;
TLP's distress signals were ignored, his hotel remained sealed off, and the auction process was underway.
Meanwhile, at the training camp in Florida, Victor's condition gradually approached his peak.
The day of departure for London is approaching.
After his final high-intensity combat exercise, Viktor washed away the sweat and stood alone on the training camp's terrace, gazing at the distant Atlantic Ocean.
The sea surface was calm, but the undercurrents were turbulent, just like the situation he faced.
He successfully capitalized on a global crisis to eliminate internal troubles, strengthen himself, and nearly defeat a powerful adversary.
But he knew that there is no such thing as eternal victory in this world.
TLP will not sit idly by; new opponents will continue to emerge, and the London ring will be far from easy.
A heart of stone was his armor for survival.
Precise calculation is his weapon of attack. Whether on the chessboard of business or in the boxing ring, he must win.
He picked up the satellite phone and dialed his office in Chicago.
"Keep the pressure on until I get back. Keep a close eye on Tulsa, and on the auction in Atlantic City. Keep a close eye on our own people, and on the FBI!"
He paused for a moment, then added, "Also, prepare a plane for me to go to London."
The person on the other end of the phone answered respectfully.
Viktor hung up the phone and turned his gaze back to the vast Atlantic Ocean.
Joe Lewis spent four million dollars, his last savings, and hired a special team—making it clear he was ready to go toe-to-toe with Victor!
Everyone wants to win; nobody wants to lose!
Chapter 199 Brown Bomber
The Wembley Stadium in London was bustling with noise, and the air was filled with the smoke of cigars and the aroma of expensive cologne.
On the night of May 20, 1988, all 5 seats were occupied.
Royals, movie stars, business tycoons, and boxing celebrities gathered to witness a heavyweight championship fight that could go down in history.
Under the spotlight, the boxing ring resembled a sacred gladiatorial arena, with four ropes enclosing a 20x20-foot battlefield.
The table was covered with a dark blue canvas, with the WBA logo printed in the center—this was the battlefield for the World Boxing Association's world heavyweight title defense tonight.
"My God, I've never seen such a lively scene."
Young sports reporter Andrew Wilson wiped the sweat from his brow; his notebook was already filled with three pages of observation notes.
The veteran commentator Martin Shawn beside him nodded in response, but his eyes never left the boxing ring.
"Joe Louis's return to the ring at 38 to challenge the current world champion is legendary in itself. Look over there."
Martin pointed to the west stands, "Ali is here too, along with Frazier and Foreman. All the gods of boxing have come on a pilgrimage."
Indeed, almost all the members of the Boxing Hall of Fame were present.
This is no ordinary title defense; it is the comeback of the legendary "Brown Bomber" Joe Lewis, and possibly the last dance of his career.
Even Princess Daianna and Charles arrived at the scene just to witness the boxing match.
The weighing ceremony at noon that day was filled with tension.
Victor was the first to step onto the scale, and the pointer swung sharply toward the 400-pound mark.
A gasp rippled through the crowd. This current WBA heavyweight champion from Chicago stood 186 centimeters tall with an astonishing reach of 204 centimeters, his muscles gleaming like obsidian under the lights.
"400 pounds! My God, that's heavyweight history!"
An inexperienced reporter exclaimed.
Victor grinned, revealing his diamond-encrusted front teeth, and raised his arms to show off his granite-like biceps.
"I will give the old man a dignified retirement ceremony tonight!"
His voice was loud and confident, with a thick Chicago accent—which, to the Londoners, sounded no different from the Northern Irish dialect.
Next up on stage was Joe Lewis.
At 230 pounds, he is perfect for a height of 188 cm, but his once invincible muscles are now 38 years old, with some wrinkles on his waist and the lines of his chest and abdomen are not as sharp as they were in his youth.
Only those eyes retained their hawk-like sharpness.
Louis calmly stepped off the scale, merely raising an eyebrow slightly in response to Victor's provocation.
"Young man, boxing is not a weightlifting competition."
His voice was deep and steady, with a nasal quality characteristic of the American Midwest.
The visual effect is stunning when the two stand face to face.
Victor was a full 170 pounds heavier and almost a whole size wider than Louis, but Louis had a slight height advantage.
The photographer frantically pressed the shutter, and the flash captured the moment—the contrast between the new generation of giants and the traditional legends was so stark.
"Just you wait, tonight I will shatter your myth."
Viktor whispered, his voice barely audible to the two of them and a few reporters nearby.
Louis's lips curled up slightly: "Let's see who's the best in the ring, kid."
The two were separated by the coaching staff, but the tense atmosphere had already permeated the entire hall.
As evening fell, the two boxers made their final preparations in their respective locker rooms.
Reggae music filled Victor's locker room as he swayed gently to the rhythm, his muscles twitching under the lights.
Coach Ethan Lee—who is also his brother—is drawing tactical diagrams on the whiteboard.
"Remember, don't try to outsmart him with technical skills; just use what we do best."
Ethan tapped the whiteboard, “Go all out! Keep the pressure on! Your weight and strength are an overwhelming advantage. He’s 38 years old, he won’t last five rounds.”
Viktor slammed his fists down hard: "I want the whole world to see that the old era is over."
Ethan nodded, his eyes sharp: "He'll definitely use his classic dodge and counter-attack tactics. Don't give him space, get close and hit him, use your weight to overpower him. Remember, you're a 400-pound heavy hitter, no human can withstand your full-force blow."
Old Jack stood to the side, feeling dejected that his days were numbered.