socalfunplaces Page 153
Page 153
Even more shockingly, after the first few seconds, he chose to go head-to-head with Tucker, the muffled thuds from their punches sounding like the beating of war drums.
His arms were already aching from the heavy blows, and each block felt like lifting a thousand-pound weight, with his muscle fibers groaning silently in each impact.
In a breathtaking head-on exchange, Tucker suddenly unleashed a brilliant combination of punches:
The left jab is feinted out like a snake's tongue, followed by a heavy right straight punch like a battering ram, and then a left hook follows like a scorpion's tail.
Viktor narrowly retreated half a step, his sweat splattering in a glistening arc with the violent movement.
At that critical moment, he keenly noticed a fatal 0.5-second pause in Tucker after he completed his storm of attacks—in that instant, Tucker's chest heaved violently, his mouthguard slightly open as he gasped for breath, as if an overheated machine needed recalibration.
Victor's body reacted before his consciousness.
A lightning-fast sidestep sent Tucker's weakened left jab grazing his cheekbone, the force of the blow stinging his skin.
At the same time, he leaned forward suddenly, his right arm muscles tightened like a steel cable, and his whole body was like a fully drawn bow, the accumulated power surging from the soles of his feet all the way to his fist—it was like a spring that had been compressed to its limit being suddenly released!
A powerful right straight punch, imbued with all his strength, tore through the air like an armor-piercing bullet, precisely piercing the fleeting tiny gap between Tucker's arms and striking his vulnerable chin squarely!
The dull thud strangely pierced through the deafening noise of the stadium, its clarity chilling to the bone.
Tucker’s head snapped back, the sound of his jaw dislocating was faint yet piercing.
His gaze instantly became unfocused, like a screen that had lost its power, and he froze in place as if he had been frozen in place.
But the nickname "TNT" was well-deserved—in the instant his consciousness was about to be swallowed by darkness, he instinctively wrapped his arms around Viktor from behind, his arms gripping him tightly like the embrace of a dying man, using his most primal physical memory to save himself from the brink of collapse.
Viktor would never let this opportunity slip by!
He used his waist strength to forcefully break free from the embrace, closing in like a whirlwind, and unleashing a barrage of hook punches from both hands like a storm!
The first left hook hit Tucker's liver, causing him to bend over in pain;
The second right hook slammed into his chin, and Tucker's mouthguard flew off.
The third left hook struck Tucker's temple, and Tucker's body began to sway, his eyes becoming unfocused.
The shouts from the audience abruptly ceased, leaving only the dull thud of fists striking flesh.
Kro's offensive was like a Chicago typewriter—precise, ruthless, and relentless. Every punch he threw was the culmination of years of training, bearing witness to countless failures and comebacks.
The final right hook struck Tucker in the cheekbone, and he crashed to the ground like a tree felled by an axe, curling up on the boxing ring.
The referee rushed over to count, but Tucker was already unable to respond.
When the count reached "10", the venue fell silent for a moment, followed by a burst of enthusiastic cheers and exclamations.
Viktor raised his arms, his hair and shorts soaked with sweat, his chest heaving violently.
His gaze swept across the audience, past the shocked, adoring, and resentful faces, and finally landed on the fallen Tucker—Victor had defeated Tucker in three rounds, turning the $400,000 bet into $780,000.
Medical staff rushed onto the stage, and Tucker gradually regained consciousness, but his eyes were filled with unbelievable despair.
Victor's coaching team rushed onto the stage to hug him, excitedly speaking incoherently in his ear.
But Viktor felt unusually calm—the victory brought not ecstasy, but a heavy sense of relief.
He proved himself once again, but his journey in the boxing ring was never over.
Under the spotlight, he looked into the distance, as if he saw an even stronger opponent and a more brutal battle.
For two consecutive months, he knocked out two former world champions, declaring his status as a rising star in the heavyweight division in the most powerful way.
But in his heart, this was just the beginning.
The nights in Las Vegas remain as vibrant as ever, but Victor Lee's gaze is already fixed on the future—where the challenges will be even more brutal.
After the match, in the locker room, Frankie excitedly patted him on the shoulder: "Unbelievable! Victor! You did it! Our WBO rankings will soar! We're just one step away from the championship!"
Viktor wiped his face with a towel, smiled, but looked into the distance.
He remembered the whiskey he had that night after signing the contract, and the sight of Smith and Tucker collapsing.
It's so easy to make money off the audience.
·······
The Chicago sky was painted a brilliant golden-red by the sunset, but the air inside the training facility was heavy and filled with the smell of sweat and leather.
Viktor had just finished a brutal set of abdominal muscle training, and sweat streamed down his angular body.
He took the towel Ethan offered, casually wiped his face, and glanced at agent Lowell Hadda and promoter Frankie, who were sitting quietly in the corner, flipping through a thick notebook.
"Frankie, Lowell,"
Viktor's voice broke the silence, carrying an undeniable determination: "I need to discuss something with you!"
Frankie and Lowell looked up together—they knew something was up again.
This boss is unlike any other person; he's incredibly quick-witted.
For example, in business, he didn't use low prices to avoid unfair competition in pricing, but he chose to sell at low prices by means of refunds, discounts, and disposal of products nearing their expiration date.
For example, in attracting customers, it can make Black and Italian people willingly choose Chinese-owned stores instead of doing business with them.
But they all tormented their own people, though of course they all made money, with an average annual income of over 20,000 US dollars.
So Frankie understood Victor; this young Asian boxer possessed ambition and power far beyond his years. "You said it, Victor."
"I want to know what kind of opponent the WBO (World Boxing Organization) has assigned me!"
Victor walked up to Frankie, his eyes sharp as an eagle's, as if trying to pierce through the notebook. "Stop beating around the bush and just tell me."
Lowell took a deep breath and opened his notebook; he knew this news would cause a stir.
“Okay. There are a few options right now. One is James Tony, he just moved up from middleweight and he's as agile as a flea. Another is 'Little Fatty' Andy Ruiz, you know him, he has a heavy punch and can take a good beating. Also…”
He paused, his tone becoming more serious. "There's a potential non-WBO option. Nikolai Valuyev, the Soviet behemoth and current WBA world champion, seems to have his team hinting that they're considering a title defense fight with you. That could be a huge publicity stunt."
"James Tony?"
Victor raised an eyebrow, his tone tinged with disbelief, surprise, and amusement. "'Team Lights Out' Tony? He rose from 160 pounds and dares to challenge me directly?"
Viktor certainly had reason to be surprised, given his recent string of knockout victories, especially his incredible 15-round duel with Tyson, which demonstrated his terrifying toughness and power—though it was a hard-fought defeat, it was a valiant one nonetheless.
Tony started his career in the middleweight division and, although he was known for his technique, there was a significant difference in physique.
In an instant, James Tony's file flashed through Victor's mind:
Nicknamed "Lights Out," he stands 178cm tall with a 183cm reach. His signature techniques include shoulder raises for defense, side-stepping and diving, and precise counter-attacks. A rare, legendary technical master who won world titles in the middleweight, super middleweight, and cruiserweight divisions, he was known for his slippery style and exceptional resilience.
But now he is entering the heavyweight (200+ lbs) realm, facing himself who is 186cm tall, weighs nearly 400 lbs, and is known for his devastating punches.
"He is very courageous, or rather... very confident."
Frankie added, "He believes technology can bridge the gap in skill levels."
"Then fight!"
Viktor barely hesitated, a belligerent smile playing on his lips. "I don't believe his chin can withstand my punches! Tyson couldn't completely 'turn off the lights' for me, I'll see how he does it! This is a perfect warm-up and a chance to make a name for myself, to show the world that even technical masters are no match for me."
Frankie seemed to have anticipated this answer and quickly jotted it down in his notebook: "Then the match against James Tony can be scheduled for twenty days from now, on September 30th. The venue can still be Las Vegas, where the market is responding very well to you."
"You've hit the jackpot four times in two consecutive bets, the casino really likes you!"
Lowell looked at Viktor, "Twenty days is enough time to adjust his playing style. You should have no problem with that."
"enough."
Viktor nodded confidently; his body was at its peak, and his learning and adaptability were exceptional.
But then another name came to mind, "What's with that chubby Ruiz? Does the WBO really not want me to continue my successful title defense? I just finished playing a technical master, and now they're immediately throwing a heavy hitter at me?"
Lowell sighed, his tone becoming low and realistic: "Victor, you have to understand. For many people, a person of Asian descent sitting on the world boxing champion's throne is not something they'd like to see."
They won't openly stop you, but they'll certainly enjoy creating obstacles in your path. Assigning formidable adversaries and constantly putting you at risk is their standard practice.
"Technical specialist, heavy gunner, long-range specialist..."
Frankie bluntly stated, "So, it's very likely that even if we don't want to, Valuyev will be pushed by some force to agree to the match. That would be a truly troublesome opponent for you."
He explained in detail: "Nikolai Valuyev, that monster from the Soviet Union, is 213cm tall and weighs nearly 330 pounds! He's a full 29cm taller than you!"
His reach is terrifying. Your strength and toughness are advantages in the heavyweight division, but against him, you're likely at a complete disadvantage. His spear-like jabs and overwhelming clinch control might be the only weapons that can counter you!
Victor walked up to the sandbag and slammed a heavy punch into it, causing the sandbag to groan in pain.
“I’m not worried about failing, Frankie!”
His eyes burned with fire. "Someone once said, 'The bigger the storm, the more expensive the fish! The higher the risk, the greater the reward!' If I can defeat Valuyev, or even just successfully challenge him, the prestige I gain will be unprecedented!"
His voice was filled with youthful fervor and confidence: "If I win, I will be the youngest boxing champion! I'll only turn 20 in November! This will make history!"
“Victor, I have never doubted your ability and determination!”
Frankie's tone was confident, but also tinged with concern. "However, Valuyev is definitely an unknown factor. He just defeated veteran Holyfield by points four months ago to successfully defend his WBA title."
Following his usual pace, he's unlikely to accept a new title defense so quickly, especially against a dangerous opponent like you. His team will be very cautious.
"That's why we need to find a way to get him to jump in on his own!"
Viktor turned around, a sly glint in his eyes. "I have an idea, but I don't know if it's against the rules, or if it's going too far."
"What's the idea?"
Lowell leaned closer curiously.
Viktor lowered his voice, as if planning a secret operation: "I'm going to have Skybet betting company offer a special betting line. The bet is: who can be the first to knock out Viktor Lee in a professional match!"
Whether in an official match or any subsequent fight, whoever manages to knock me out will share an additional bonus of up to one million US dollars! Funded jointly by my promotional company and the betting company!
Frankie's mouth dropped open in shock at first, then he slapped his thigh and his eyes behind his glasses lit up: "Genius! Victor! This is a crazy and brilliant idea!"
This is a blatant provocation and a massive bounty on all heavyweight boxers, especially the heavy hitters! One million US dollars is enough to make any boxer envious!
Luyev would never object to a fight that would allow him to defend his title, earn a huge prize, and boost his global reputation! He might even actively push for the fight to happen! And the media and boxing fans would go crazy for it!
Frankie exclaimed, "If we can go two years without a loss, then SkyBet will become the most authoritative betting company!"
"Then do it!"
Viktor clenched his fist, a hunter's smile revealing the intent of setting a trap. "First, focus on 'lights out' James Tony in twenty days, then lure out that Soviet behemoth! I want everyone to know that my position wasn't earned by chance!"
Chapter 130 James Lights Out Tony
For the next twenty days, Viktor's training camp entered a targeted, grueling mode.