Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion

"10, 9, 8, 7..."

On the boxing ring, Aragon struggled as he lay on the ground while the referee crouched nearby, counting.

Link leaned against the ropes, gasping for air, his right arm hanging on the ropes, his biceps twitching continuously. Although the Throwing Punch he had just executed was beautiful, he had exerted too much force, causing a slight strain in his biceps and some pain in his finger joints at the moment of impact.

Listening to the referee's count, he hoped that Aragon wouldn't be able to get up. It would be best if he just lay there past the ten seconds, but Aragon's physical fitness and his high tolerance for taking punches meant that this one punch definitely wouldn't finish him.

By the fifth count, Aragon managed to push himself up with his hands, slowly standing, his body swaying. He steadied himself by holding onto the ropes, then turned his head, his flattened nose breathing heavily, angrily staring at Link.

Link knew where his anger came from.

Previously, they had agreed to fight for honor, to die for honor, but Link had suddenly dodged and delivered a Rear Hook Punch. Aragon felt tricked and was naturally extremely angry.

But Link didn't feel he had done anything wrong.

The ring is a battlefield, and mercy to an opponent is cruelty to oneself—a truth even a three-year-old knows.

In the first round, he had no advantage over Aragon and was forced to adopt the third-rate tactic of "trading punch for punch, injury for injury."

After spending most of the round 'brawling', Aragon's defense and stamina were significantly weakened, and the match fell into his own rhythm. When Link found he could severely injure Aragon, he naturally wouldn't continue with a mutually damaging strategy, so he smoothly landed a punch.

This punch woke Aragon up, and only a conscious man feels anger.

And this was precisely the emotion Link wanted to see.

"Aragon, fighting for honor, do you dare to come again?"

Link shouted.

Aragon glared at him, the corner of his eye twitching fiercely, his face filled with palpable rage.

Just as Aragon, seething with rage, was about to strike, the bell marking the end of the second round rang.

Link moved to his corner, asking Morales to help massage his right arm to alleviate the pain.

Across the ring.

Aragon sat on a stool with a dark expression, a team doctor treating the cuts on his face.

"Aragon, don't exchange punches with Link anymore. Cuban boxing's advantage lies in speed and technique, not in strength and physique. You exchanging punches with him, trading injury for injury, is falling into his pace, and you will inevitably be defeated by him," Sion said, frowning.

Before the match, he was quite confident, thinking that although Link was formidable, his overall ability was still inferior to Aragon, who had a great chance to win on points.

When the match started, Aragon and Link exchanged punches dozens of times, with no clear winner, which was fine.

But the subsequent match became chaotic. Link wanted to exchange injuries, and Aragon followed suit, Link abandoned defense for mutual attack, and Aragon continued to cooperate, completely following Link's chaotic rhythm.

Just now, seeing that Aragon had completely fallen into the trap, Link, like an experienced hunter, immediately used the fatal Rear Hook Punch, thoroughly tricking Aragon once.

Sometimes, Sion greatly admired Link, this young man's application of ring tactics and understanding of human nature were very subtle and unique, not at all like a 20-year-old.

Moreover, the ferocity he showed during the fight was more like an old fighter from underground boxing, not a rookie boxer just beginning his career.

Sion didn't know where this freak, Link, had come from, but all he could do now was repeatedly caution Aragon not to fall into Link's traps anymore.

"I understand. From now on, I will fight at my own pace and do my best to defeat Link Baker," Aragon said firmly, clenching his fists.

Sion sighed lightly, "Aragon, I've told you not to care too much about winning or losing. It's okay to lose this match. Our focus is on the Olympics. You can't afford to get injured, and your ribs and face have already been hurt by Link. If your injuries get worse, your road to the Olympics could end here. Do you understand?"

Aragon paused for a moment and nodded.

Ding ding ding!

The bell for the third round rang, and Link and Aragon walked to the center of the ring.

"Aragon..."

"Referee! He's verbally attacking me,"

Just as Link began to speak, Aragon immediately complained to the referee. According to boxing rules, during a match, the boxers are not allowed to talk on the ring, nor use verbal attacks. However, this rule is not very strict. As long as the opponent does not object, the referee usually does not interfere.

The referee came over, gave Link a warning, and announced the start of the third round.

Link shook his head; Aragon's unwillingness to communicate prevented him from deploying his prepared psychological tactics. Now, he could only fight it out.

Fortunately, after two rounds of fierce fighting, Aragon's strength, stamina, and resistance to punches had all been reduced.

The opponent's top horse became an average horse, and his average horse became a top horse.

The advantage was his!

As soon as the match began, Link did not dare to rest; he immediately swung his fists, charging at Aragon.

Aragon raised both arms, blocking in front of his head, and kept moving his feet, adopting a strictly defensive tactic.

Aragon was strong, his arm muscles as solid as stone, able to withstand blows almost as well as the Haitian Pitts, and he was black with a pointed head; when he protected his head with both arms, hitting his head accurately was considerably difficult.

But Link loved a challenge. He swung his fists, one punch after another landing on Aragon's arms and torso.

If it had been the first round, at Aragon's prime, breaking through his defense would have been as hard as breaking through Pitts's solid barricade.

But in the first two rounds, Aragon had taken a hook punch and a rear hook punch and had been knocked down, which greatly drained his physical and mental energy.

This was when Aragon was at his weakest, and it was the perfect opportunity to attack.

Link endured the sharp pain emanating from his right arm—a symptom of a muscle strain—and launched attack after attack on Aragon's arm defense, ten punches, twenty punches, thirty punches; Link's arms began to numb, and sweat poured from his body like pulp.

On the thirty-second punch, boom! A straight punch from Link hit Aragon's left shoulder, causing Aragon to stagger and his defense briefly faltered.

Great opportunity! Link instantly launched a jab with his left hand, breaking through Aragon's defense at a tricky angle, striking Aragon squarely in the face, causing him to stagger and involuntarily step back, leaving his front wide open.

Great opportunity! Link swung both fists, pinning down Aragon's arms, straight punches, jabs, and hook punches repeatedly hitting Aragon's side face, forehead, and jaw.

Aragon floundered left and right, about to reach out and hug him, attempting to deploy a hugging tactic.

Link wouldn't give him the chance, swiftly stepping back half a step, and the next right straight punch smashed on Aragon's forehead, sending Aragon stumbling back two steps and sitting down on the boxing ring, sliding back a few centimeters.

Wow!

The audience let out another gasp of amazement.

"Go Link!"

"Link for the champion!"n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Seeing Aragon knocked down again, the crowd supporting Link became excitedly noisy.

Exhausted, Link stood in the boxing ring, his biceps twitching violently, and as the numbness subsided, a sharp pain from the strain was gradually surfacing; all Link could do was clench his fists and confront the pain.

"10, 9, 8, 7, 6, 5..."

The referee counted to six, and Aragon again struggled to stand up, his body swaying back and forth, clearly not yet recovered from the recent hard impacts.

"Go Aragon!"

The Cuban audience stood up shouting, hoping Aragon would hold on.

Aragon slowly stood up, flexing his muscles, and roared at Link.

Link swung his fists to meet him, taking advantage of Aragon's unsteady condition, launching more than twenty consecutive punches, forcing Aragon to keep retreating.

Aragon knew Link's prowess, protected his head with his fists, and dodged around the ring, avoiding a head-on confrontation.

Ding ding ding! The bell for the third round rang.

"Go Link!"

"Link is the champion!"

As Link walked back to the resting area, many people shouted hoarsely in cheer.

Link waved his fists and sat down on a stool, his shorts already soaked with sweat.

"Link, your right arm is severely injured; don't use it anymore. We've already won. In the first three rounds, you knocked down Aragon twice, causing him to be counted twice, and our score is higher than his. In the next round, you just need to delay the match until the end, and we will win," said Coach Ed as he applied ice to his arm.

Link shook his head, "My goal is a KO. As long as my opponent is still standing, I won't stop attacking."

"But your arm, continuing like this will affect the Olympic competition," Coach Ed frowned and said.

"It doesn't matter, let's win this match first," Link said with a firm voice.

On the other side,

The atmosphere in the blue corner had a heavy air. Aragon had been knocked down twice in the first three rounds, far beyond Sawn's expectations.

Before the match, he had thought a lot and designed many tactics for Aragon against Link, but when it came to the match, the pace had been deflected by Link from the start, and by the third round, the match had completely changed, not following any of Sawn's planned tactics.

There was only one final round left in the match, and Aragon was in a bad shape, making it difficult for him to counterattack and win the match.

"Aragon, Link's right arm is injured. In the next round, fully defend, try to drag the match to the end, and it's best not to get hit by Link again. You can't afford to worsen your injuries," Sawn urged.

Aragon angrily glanced at Link in the opposite corner and nodded fiercely; as long as he could delay the match until the end, if Link couldn't win by KO, even if he won, it wouldn't be a total victory. Aragon would not let this despicable guy succeed.

Ding ding ding!

The final round began.