Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion

"Link, pick up the pace. Let me see how fast your punches are."

"Pay attention to your footwork coordination; your steps and punches must be consistent to maintain your center of gravity. Only then can your body stay balanced without being knocked down by your opponent."

"Excellent, the coordination between your steps and punches is pretty much perfect. You are indeed a terrific boxer."

"However, there's an issue. You have too few signature moves. The rear hook punch is too well-known. In professional matches, it's easy for opponents to anticipate and block. Using it frequently also means a higher risk of arm injuries. I suggest you train a few more signature moves."

"Regarding signature moves, you don't have to worry. With your punch weight and speed, just intensify your training, and in the super middleweight class, your straight punches, jabs, hooks, and swing punches can all become knockout moves."

"Yes, just like that: head-body, head-body, head-body. Strike high, strike low; complementing it with your liver blow punch and heavy punches... wow, it's unimaginable. Link, you are absolutely poised to dominate the super middleweight class."

Below the boxing ring, Tommy Brooks was waving his fists excitedly and shouting.

"Dominate? Aren't you exaggerating a bit? Don't forget he hasn't fought a single professional match yet; he's just a professional rookie."

Dino Duva leaned back in his chair, smirking as he spoke.

"No, no, he's a world champion — the anesthetist of the ring with 26 KOs in 27 amateur fights. Given his power and speed, his career in professional boxing will surely excel. There's absolutely no doubt about it."

Brooks gazed at Link in the ring, repeatedly expressing his admiration.

"Is he really that good?"

"Certainly, even better than I've described."

Brooks had just finished his reply when he noticed the voice was different. He turned to see old man Lou Duva walking over, leaning heavily on his cane.

"Could he become a world champion?"

Lou Duva asked.

"Not just that. If nothing goes wrong, his achievements could well match or even surpass those of Hector Camacho and Bernal Vittak."

Hector Camacho was a legendary Puerto Rican boxer who had won the super featherweight, lightweight, and super lightweight golden belts; Vittak had won golden belts in four different ranks under four major organizations, both being legendary boxing champions from the '80s and '90s, and products of major fight promotions.

Brooks continued: "Link's punch weight exceeds 1500 pounds. In the super middleweight, even in the light heavyweight class, he's at the top tier. His speed rivals that of lightweight fighters. His boxing technique, strategy, control over the fights... he is simply an astonishing boxer, unlike any I've ever seen, and he's only 20 years old."

Lou Duva frowned as he looked towards Link in the ring. When Franco proposed spending $100 million to sign Link, Duva was so infuriated he nearly had a fit. He threw his tea cup at Franco, chased him out, and even revoked Franco's position in the main event company. Yet, who could have seen that just over a month later, the boxer Franco prized would become a world champion?

He took a deep breath and asked, "So you're saying Franco made a really successful deal?"

"Based on the current situation, yes. Link is light-skinned, handsome, and powerful, not to mention an Olympic champion. Combining these factors, his commercial potential could surpass that of Mayweather or even Roy Jones Jr. Though $100 million might sound over the top, at that price, it's definitely not a losing deal."

Brooks stated confidently.

Lou Duva stared at Link, furrowing his brows. Had he really made a mistake?

"Hahaha!"

Suddenly, from the chair beside him, Dino Duva burst out laughing, falling off his chair to the floor, clutching his stomach and pointing at old Duva, laughing, "My respected father, remember two months ago?

The day Franco came home, saying he wanted to sign Link with a huge contract, and you exploded, calling him crazy, saying his brain had dried up under Miami's sun, even kicking him out of the main event company. What now?Nôv(el)B\\jnn

"Link Baker, the one you underestimated, has become an Olympic champion, a potential cash cow. And Franco, whom you chased away, is going to make a fortune. My unbeatable father, do you regret it now?"

Dino laughed heartily.

Old Duva glared at Dino Duva, his hand trembling on his cane, fighting the urge to beat his defiant son.

"Dino, watch your words. Your father, even initially disapproving, did it considering the company's development."

Brooks motioned to Dino to stop upsetting old Duva, emphasizing that any stress on Duva's advanced age was a loss to the main event company.

"Haha, am I wrong? Father always said it's not wrong to make mistakes, what's terrible is not knowing how to correct them. My wise and erudite father, when are you planning to correct this mistake, and apologize to your son Franco?"

Dino sat on the ground, asking with a smile that was not quite a smile.

Lou Duvall glanced at him and said to Brooks, "Since Franco is doing well, let him continue. How successful he can be will depend on his abilities."

"Okay!"

Brooks nodded and escorted the elder Duvall out.

"Come on Link, strive to win ten, a hundred Golden Belts, and show the old guy how outstanding you are."

Dino Duvall shouted from below the boxing ring.

On the ring, Link paid him no heed; he had noticed when the elder Duvall entered.

This old man was born in the 1920s, had been a boxer, and since the 1950s had transitioned to working as a boxing manager and coach, entering the industry earlier than Don King and Bob Arum, truly a living fossil in the United States boxing world.

However, he didn't understand how the over eighty-year-old elder Duvall could have a son in his twenties, who looked like a grandson.

He continued his training, starting with the punch pad, which was made of high-elasticity foam leather, thick and elastic enough to slow the impact of punches. There were both two-handed and one-handed versions. Wearing his gloves, Link kept hitting the punch pads held by Morales, faster and faster, his body sweating more and more.

After finishing the combination punches, he practiced offense and defense with two professional boxers, adapting to the pace of professional boxing matches.

"Link, the WBA ranking match is about to start, and you're fighting in the super middleweight class. Eat more these days to get your weight back over 76 kilograms," Brooks said after the training.

"I understand!"

Link nodded, came out of the changing room in his changed clothes, and Dino Duvall, who had also changed into a more formal casual outfit, was standing in the corridor by the door, accompanied by two burly boxers. Upon seeing him, he shouted,

"Link, are you going to the Midnight Queen Bar? I know a lot of pretty girls; wanna meet a few?"

"I'll pass, I'm still busy."

Link tactfully refused. He could be friends with Franco, but preferred to steer clear of someone like Dino who seemed to be more trouble.

"Come on, Link, it's your first day at the training ground. Let's go to the bar and celebrate. It's on me!"

Dino said, patting his bony chest.

Link waved his hand in thanks but mentioned he didn't have time. Simon interjected, "Dino, Link doesn't smoke, doesn't drink, doesn't do drugs, and doesn't much care for chasing girls. He'd find it boring in a bar, which is why he hardly ever goes."

"Doesn't smoke, drink, or chase girls? How can someone be like that?"

Dino looked at Link in surprise, as if seeing a monster, "Then what do you like?"

"Boxing!"

Link shook his fists and walked away, carrying his backpack.

"What a proud fellow."

Dino said, watching his retreating figure.

"No, no, Link is easy to talk to and likes making friends, but he just doesn't like dealing with those unserious types."

Simon explained.

"Unserious? Who are you talking about?"

Dino Duvall asked darkly, displeased.

Simon laughed and jogged a few steps to catch up with Link.