311-315

*Chapter 311: I Have Many Lovers*

In front of the NYU Business School building.

Ms. Bündchen had enrolled in a course at NYU Business School a while ago, but she had been too busy to attend classes. Now that she's pregnant and unable to work as much, she has more time to attend and even take the opportunity to do prenatal education for her baby.

Around 4 p.m., the class ended, and Ms. Bündchen, with a shoulder bag and hat, descended the steps, accompanied by a chatty Patria.

Last year, Patria took the U.S. college entrance exam and did well in all areas. With a recommendation letter prepared by Richard, she was accepted into Columbia University's journalism program. While classes haven’t started yet, she came with Ms. Bündchen to experience life at NYU.

"Patria, how are you feeling?" Richard asked as he took Ms. Bündchen’s bag.

"Pretty good! It's way more interesting than high school. I can't wait for school to start," Patria smiled.

"You just want someone to play with at school," Ms. Bündchen teased.

"Isn't school just for fun? I heard that the more fun you have, the more popular you are."

"If I had known that was your thinking, I wouldn't have encouraged you to study here in the first place," Ms. Bündchen pinched her cheek. "Richard, has Michelle arrived?"

"She's over there!"

Ellie and Michelle were looking at a bulletin board nearby. Richard and the others went over, greeted them, and continued walking.

“I haven’t been back to campus in five years, and it hasn’t changed much,” Ellie said as they walked.

“Yes, once you're here, it's all memories,” Michelle said, looking around the campus.

NYU has two main campuses, the Manhattan campus and the Brooklyn campus. They were at the older Manhattan campus, which radiates outward from Washington Square Park.

The surroundings were lush with trees, and the lawn was dotted with young men and women, some sketching, others playing guitars, all creating a vibrant campus atmosphere.

*Bump!*

As they walked, a student, with his head down, rushed into them, causing the books in his hands to scatter. The student was dressed in a T-shirt and jeans, wearing black-rimmed glasses, with a slightly chubby figure—just an ordinary student.

“Sorry, sorry!” the student kept apologizing with his head down.

“It’s okay,” Michelle smiled, crouching down to help him pick up his things.

"Anthony?"

She called out in surprise.

“Hi, Michelle, long time no see,” the chubby Anthony smiled softly.

“What are you doing here? And why are you dressed like this?” Michelle laughed.

“Michelle, do you remember our first meeting?” Anthony said, helping Michelle stand.

“Is this how they met?” Richard, Ms. Bündchen, Ellie, and Patria watched from a distance.

“Yes,” Ellie laughed, “Anthony was always a bookworm back then, carrying books everywhere and rushing around with his head down.

Once, Michelle and I were rushing to a performance and bumped into him. Anthony picked up his books and hurried off, leaving behind his library card. Michelle later returned it to him, and that’s how they fell in love.”

“That sounds sweet,” Richard smiled. “Bündchen, I just thought of a great idea for a proposal. We could recreate our first meeting. I could pretend to be hurt and stop your car, then propose to you—wouldn’t that be romantic?”

“It wouldn’t,” Ms. Bündchen grinned. “Back in ‘97, I had just gotten my license, and I wasn’t very good at driving, so I hit the brake by accident. If you try to stop my car now, I’ll just hit the gas.”

“Good thing your driving was bad back then,” Richard laughed, holding her hand.

"Anthony is proposing!" Patria interrupted.

Over on the other side, Anthony was saying something that had Michelle in tears.

“Michelle, will you marry me?” Anthony asked, kneeling down with a ring in his hand.

Michelle, covering her mouth, nodded in response.

*Ding, ding, dong, dong~*

Suddenly, the sound of beautiful string music filled the air. The students on the lawn stood up, each pulling out various instruments—cellos, violins, accordions, brass instruments, and oboes—playing a romantic tune together.

*La, la, la, la, la~*

As the music played, over thirty girls in pink dresses and boys in small suits, each holding a rose, hummed softly and slowly walked to the center, forming a heart-shaped circle.

From the center of the group, a little girl, about four or five years old, wearing a white princess dress and holding a large bouquet of roses, walked toward Michelle.

“Mommy, marry me!” the little girl said with a sweet smile.

Michelle, both crying and laughing, nodded repeatedly.

*Clap, clap, clap~*

Richard clapped his hands vigorously. “I can't believe Anthony came up with this idea—it's impressive.”

“Haha, you like it?” Norman suddenly appeared from behind. Patting his chest, he said, “I’m the one who planned this.”

“Well done,” Richard laughed.

With Anthony’s proposal a success, Richard and the others went over to congratulate him. Anthony and Michelle’s relationship had been full of ups and downs, with them missing out on seven or eight years together. It was unfortunate, but they were lucky not to have missed out on a lifetime.

“Anthony, congratulations! Not only do you have a wife now, but also a lovely daughter—you’ve really hit the jackpot.”

Richard chuckled.

“Heh heh heh~”

Anthony was laughing so hard his eyes were nearly shut.

After attending Anthony's proposal ceremony, Richard went home to continue his boxing training.

In late April, Lost in Tokyo grossed over $16.25 million in its third week, bringing the total box office to $40 million. It’s expected that U.S. box office sales will reach between $50 million and $60 million.

If international box office performance is good, there's a chance the global gross could exceed $100 million. With a production cost of $4 million, hitting $70 to $80 million in revenue would make it a bit of a sleeper hit.

Meanwhile, New Century Films’ financing plan was progressing very smoothly under Michelle’s leadership. In less than two weeks, she had news that someone was interested in investing in New Century.

“Larry Ellison?”

“Yes, my father is one of his financial advisors. The entertainment industry has been doing well in recent years, and Ellison is considering investing in film. I approached him about New Century's financing, and he said he wanted to meet you. He also mentioned he’s curious to meet a fellow Bronx native.”

Michelle smiled.

Richard smiled too. Larry Ellison, the founder of Oracle, was worth $16.6 billion and ranked 6th on Forbes’ list. He was also born in the Bronx, so they could be considered "hometown buddies."

“Alright!”

The next day, Richard met Larry Ellison at a golf course in Brooklyn.

Ellison was a business genius. Before he turned 33, he hadn’t achieved much. He failed his college exams and didn’t get a diploma. Unemployed and a big spender, his wife eventually divorced him.

It wasn’t until he entered the IT industry at age 33 that his fortunes began to change. He founded a software company, developed system software, and his flagship product became Oracle Database. By 1996, Oracle’s market value had reached $26 billion, making Ellison a wealthy man.

Ellison had a flamboyant personality. He loved to indulge in luxury, had a brash public image, and was known for his playful private life, publicly dating several women. Public opinion on him was mixed.

At 60 years old, Ellison was tall, fit, with dark hair and dark eyes. His chin sported a thick beard, and he had a bit of a Keanu Reeves look to him – an older, handsome guy.

“Hey, Richard, the Bronx King! I’ve heard of you for a long time,” Ellison called out, leaning on his golf club, his voice booming.

“The Bronx King? I haven’t heard that name in a while. Mr. Ellison, do you like boxing?”

Richard walked over and shook his hand.

“Yes, I box as part of my fitness routine.”

“I can tell you’re in great shape. I’ve got a match with Tyson next Saturday. Will you come to watch, Mr. Ellison?”

Ellison laughed heartily. “You and Tyson are both champions. Your match will definitely be exciting. I’ll be there.”

“You’re welcome to join.”

After a few more words, they started playing golf. While they played, the conversation drifted to movies, but not about movie investments – more about the beautiful women in the entertainment industry.

This tycoon might be older, but he still had a young man’s spirit, with girlfriends all in their twenties – actresses, models, and beauties from Ukraine.

“So, Richard, what kind of women do you like?”

Ellison asked, not-so-innocently.

“Well, if it’s just for fun, the spicier, the better.”

Richard grinned.

“Ha! Fun, huh?”

Ellison chuckled and held up his hand. “I’ve got five lovers. How many do you have?”

Richard smirked. “Hold on, let me count.”

“Count?”

Ellison looked puzzled.

“Yes, I have a lot, so I need to keep track.”

“Ha! We’re cut from the same cloth.”

Ellison patted Richard on the shoulder.

Richard smiled, swung his golf club, and whack – the ball sailed over the water and landed on the grass, just eight steps from the hole, a 200-yard shot.

“Nice shot, Richard. That was a beauty.”

“I’ve got decent athletic talent.”

Richard laughed.

After finishing their round of golf, the financing deal was quickly finalized. Larry Ellison invested $35 million for a 15% stake, pushing New Century Films' estimated value from $200 million to $230 million.

Ellison wasn’t investing in New Century because he wanted to break into Hollywood himself. It was more about finding something for his son, David Ellison, to do. David wasn’t interested in college and wanted to try his hand at Hollywood, and New Century was a good platform.

David Ellison was 20 and hadn’t graduated from college yet.

After signing the contract, Richard had second thoughts. Bringing someone like that into New Century Films was bound to create future problems.

(End of Chapter)

*Chapter 312: Don’t You Want to Date a Movie Star?*

“David, do you like movies?”

In the manor’s living room, Richard was hosting David Ellison, who had come to visit.

David was a young man with black hair and black eyes. His appearance wasn’t as imposing or authoritative as his father’s; he looked more youthful, with a hint of arrogance and a carefree attitude typical of young men.

“Yes, making movies is cool. I studied directing and acting before, but I realized that neither of those was as cool as being a producer. As a producer, you get to call the shots, hire whoever you want, and make the movie however you like. That’s why I decided to become a producer.”

David Ellison said this, already aware from his father that he was coming to learn from Richard, and that he better behave, or he wouldn’t be supported in entering Hollywood.

Richard smiled slightly, “Being a producer is definitely cool. Producers are the beneficiaries of Hollywood’s unspoken rules. Once you’re a producer, is making movies your only goal? Haven’t you thought about hooking up with a female movie star?”

“Uh…”

David Ellison blinked and shook his head.

“Haha, come on, David. We’re both men here. If you’ve got thoughts like that, just say it. Nothing to be shy about,” Richard encouraged him.

“Alright, maybe a little. I’ve heard that producers have a lot of power in Hollywood and can get involved with whoever they want, so, yeah, there’s that.”

David squinted his eyes and grinned mischievously, looking much like a young Norman from five or six years ago.

Richard scratched his head. Like father, like son—the father wasn’t entirely proper, so it wasn’t surprising the son wasn’t either.

“David, before I went to Hollywood, I thought the same way—you could hook up with anyone you wanted. But once I got there, I realized it’s not that simple.

Hollywood isn’t what it used to be. Back in the day, production companies had a stranglehold on actors, and producers had a lot of power. But now, with four to five hundred medium-to-large production companies all competing fiercely with each other, actors have more choices and more say in things.

Sometimes, the people leading a project aren’t the producers but the big-name actors or directors. Plus, there are organizations like the Screen Actors Guild and the Producers Guild that have put rules in place to protect actors.

If you tried to pull any stunts on set, not only would it damage your reputation, but it could also cost the company a lot of money. So, using your position as a producer for that is out of the question.”

Richard said this seriously.

“Uh…”

David thought, Didn’t you say we could speak freely as men? But then you drop this on me? Can’t we just keep it simple?

Richard smiled again. “David, don’t be disappointed just because you can’t exploit your power. You’re young, rich, and good-looking. Once you get to Hollywood, those young actresses will flock to you like bees to honey. You won’t need any tricks to win them over.

Take me, for example—actresses call me every day for dates.”

Right then, the phone rang. Richard picked it up, smiling. “Jessica? Yeah, sure, I’ll be there right after the fight. Okay, I miss you too.”

After a short chat, he hung up. “David, what kind of work do you want to do when you join New Century?”

David, still wondering who “Jessica” was, snapped back to attention at the question. After thinking for a moment, he said, “I want to be a producer. Don’t worry, I know the rules—no exploiting my position.”

Richard nodded slightly. “The production department at New Century is mainly overseen by Arnold Kopelson, a well-known and highly respected producer. When you start, you’ll work as his assistant.

The company is about to kick off two new projects. You can get involved, and once you’re familiar with how things work here, you’ll eventually be able to manage a project yourself.”

“Sounds great!”

David nodded in agreement.

Richard explained more about New Century’s internal operations, and as he watched David listen attentively, he relaxed a bit. David wasn’t as bad as he had initially seemed—there was hope for him yet.

“Richard, I have a personal question, but I’m not sure if it’s appropriate.”

Just as he was about to leave, David hesitated.

“Haha, go ahead. We’re the same age; nothing’s off the table.”

Richard gestured for him to ask.

David’s mouth twitched. Same age? Yeah right, you sneaky old man. “Richard, the person who called you just now… You called her Jessica.”

“Oh, that’s Jessica Alba. I’ll introduce you when we’re in L.A.”

“Jessica…”

David clutched his chest, his face paling. Jessica Alba was his dream woman—stunningly beautiful, with an incredible figure. He’d been following her since 2001. Last year, while in L.A., he’d even pretended to be a fan just to get her autograph.

He had planned to befriend her once he got to Hollywood, but Richard had beaten him to it. His heart ached.

“David, are you okay?”

Richard asked with concern.

“I’m fine. I’m fine. I’ll take my leave now.”

David shook his head, casting a resentful glance at Richard before leaving in a defeated mood.

—

With company matters settled, Richard refocused on training for his upcoming boxing match with Mike Tyson in Las Vegas.

With a week left before the fight, the media was buzzing about it.

One was the best boxer of the '90s; the other was the reigning super champion of the new era. The hype was through the roof.

The two had been at odds since ’98.

The media constantly stirred things up, especially after the 1999 shooting incident, which had dragged Tyson into the fray, making the rivalry seem even more intense. Fans were eagerly anticipating the showdown, wanting to see who would come out on top.

Promotional materials called it “The Battle of the Super Champions,” “The Clash of Two Eras,” and “Tyson vs. Richard: Who Will Be the Last Man Standing?”

Television and newspapers kept highlighting their impressive records, and their faces were displayed on billboards in Times Square with a lightning bolt “Vs” between them. Posters were plastered all over public spaces, creating a sense of epic rivalry.

Even TV reporters were out on the streets interviewing random people.

“Excuse me, are you a boxer?”

On the streets of New York, a reporter stopped a young man with a muscular build outside a boxing gym.

“Yes, I am. My name’s Anthony Joshua. I’m an amateur boxer.”

The young man from FOX flexed his big arms.

“Impressive! Are you following the Richard vs. Tyson fight?”

“Of course! I’ve been waiting for this fight for years. It’s going to be epic.”

The young man grinned widely.

“Who do you think will win?”

The reporter asked.

“Richard, no doubt. He’s incredibly strong. His physical attributes and his offensive and defensive techniques are on another level.

My coach says Richard is a perfect boxer—his speed, strength, endurance, and tactics are all top-notch.

That’s why my coach makes us study Richard. He’s the template for modern boxing.

Tyson, on the other hand, has been in decline. He lost both fights against Holyfield in ‘96 and ‘97.

Last year, Richard fought Holyfield and won easily. It’s pretty clear who’s stronger.”

The young man shrugged.

“Interesting. Now, imagine this—if Tyson from the early ‘90s fought Richard today, who do you think would win?”

The reporter pressed.

“Wow, that would be a dream fight. Tyson in the early ‘90s was unstoppable. But if he faced Richard now, I still think Richard would win.

My coach says Richard is a flawless boxer, while Tyson has weaknesses that can be exploited.”

The young man said confidently.

“Thank you for your time.”

The reporter let Anthony Joshua go and moved on to the next interview.

“Hi there, can I ask you a question?”

In the streets of Los Angeles, an HBO reporter approached a young Black boy.

The boy was standing on the street, looking up at a screen playing highlights from Richard’s and Tyson’s past fights. The crowd cheered as the two fighters knocked out their opponents with incredible punches. Everyone was buzzing, debating who was stronger.

The Black boy, holding a basketball, glanced at the reporter, a little annoyed. “My name is Stephen Curry, and I’m sixteen years old. I’m not a kid.”

“Haha, alright, Mr. Curry. Do you like boxing?”

The reporter laughed.

“I love basketball the most, but boxing comes in second. Both are real man’s sports.”

Curry clenched his fist and said,

"Yeah, this time it's Richard versus Tyson. Who do you think will win?"

A reporter asked.

"Tyson!"

Curry glanced at the camera.

"Oh, why are you so sure?"

"Tyson's my dad's favorite boxer. If I said Richard, he'd definitely beat me up."

Curry shrugged.

"Haha, interesting answer."

The reporter moved on from Curry and approached the next person.

"Let’s interview a young lady."

The ABC reporter waved at the camera and walked over to a tall girl carrying a guitar.

"Hi!"

The girl brushed her bangs aside, looking a little shy.

"Hello there! Can you say hi to our audience?"

"Hi, everyone! My name’s Taylor Swift, I’m 14 years old, and my dream is to be a singer."

The girl waved slightly at the camera.

"Nice to meet you, Miss Swift! I saw you looking at Richard’s poster earlier. Do you like Richard?"

The reporter asked.

"Yes, Richard is my idol."

The girl said without hesitation.

"Oh, what do you like about Richard?"

"Everything! He’s handsome and strong, and he stands for justice, just like Superman, Batman, and Spider-Man, always fighting evil.

He’s also very hardworking. No matter how many setbacks he faces, he stays focused and pursues his dreams. I want to be like him and chase my own dreams."

The girl said earnestly.

"Well said! So, on Saturday, Richard and Tyson will face off. Who do you think will win?"

"Of course, Richard! He’s unbeatable, no one can defeat him."

The girl blushed, her excitement showing.

"And who’s the best boxer?"

"Richard, it’s Richard! Go, Richard!"

The girl cheered.

"Hmph!"

Tyson turned off the TV with a grim face, clenched his fist, and swung it. “This time, I’m going to shock everyone. Henry, are things ready?”

"Everything’s ready, but are you sure you want to do this?"

His assistant asked.

"Yes, I’m getting older. After this, how many more fights can I have? This time, I’m going to amaze the world again."

Tyson shouted, clenching his fist.

"Alright, I’ve got your back. Beat Richard and show him what you’re made of!"

The assistant cheered.

—

"Richard, are you ready?"

In the training gym, Andy asked.

"Of course, I’m ready to fight anytime."

Richard said, wearing his gloves.

"Alright then, let’s go to Las Vegas, defeat Tyson, and create the Richard era!"

Andy laughed loudly.

"I’m going too!"

Paul shouted.

"Why are you coming? If you don’t win your next fight against Chris Byrd, you can kiss that championship belt goodbye."

Richard joked.

"I’m your sparring partner, of course I’m fighting alongside you."

"Alright then, let’s do this together!"

(The chapter ends.)

Chapter 313: The Boxing Ring Crisis

The next day, Richard arrived in Las Vegas with his coaching team to participate in the highly anticipated pinnacle of boxing matches.

The "pinnacle" here refers not only to skill but more to influence and fame.

Currently, even though Richard has held the title of world champion for six years and the title of super champion for three years, being hailed as the people's champion with both beauty and power, his influence and box-office appeal still lag slightly behind Tyson.

Last year, *Forbes* magazine published a list of the highest-grossing boxing PPV events in history. Tyson holds four records in the top ten, including three in the top four:

1. *First place*: June 8, 2002, Lennox Lewis vs. Mike Tyson, PPV sales: $112 million.

2. *Second place*: June 28, 1997, Mike Tyson vs. Evander Holyfield (rematch), PPV sales: $100.2 million.

3. *Third place*: December 23, 2002, Richard Brad vs. Evander Holyfield, PPV sales: $97.6 million.

4. *Fourth place*: August 19, 1995, Mike Tyson vs. Peter McNeeley, PPV sales: $96 million.

Despite Tyson’s significant decline in skill, his influence in the boxing world remains strong. Before Richard came along, no one could rival Tyson—not even Lennox Lewis. Lewis's highest PPV sales outside of his fight with Tyson were $76 million during his rematch with Hasim Rahman in 2001.

In fact, only Richard and Tyson have surpassed $90 million in PPV revenue in the boxing world.

This is why so many top champions still choose to fight Tyson—it's a guaranteed money-maker and a way to boost their reputation.

This time, the fight between the two most influential and highest box-office draw fighters in boxing history was a global event. Not just in countries like the U.S. and the U.K., which have a deep love for boxing, but sports fans all over the world were eagerly waiting to witness the clash of these two titans.

In interviews with citizens around the world, most supported Richard for the win, but everyone was also hoping for a miracle.

The media has promoted this bout as one of the greatest events in sports history.

"Richard, you know, right? The 80,000 tickets for the arena sold out three days ago. Eighty thousand! That's Super Bowl-level attendance," Andy exclaimed excitedly in the locker room.

“Eighty thousand people? Can the arena even hold that many?”

Richard was a bit surprised. Boxing is a more niche sport, with typical attendance ranging between 30,000 to 60,000 at most, far behind soccer or football events.

“Don’t worry about it! The arena was expanded last year and now has giant LCD screens installed everywhere. It’s as good as Madison Square Garden.”

“That sounds better,” Richard said, doing a few sets of warm-up exercises on the floor to keep his muscles active. He needed to be in top form when he entered the ring.

“Richard! Richard!”

Paul burst into the room, looking stunned. “It’s unbelievable! The stands are packed with people everywhere, all waiting for you two to fight. This kind of scene happens only once in a lifetime.”

“This is truly a rare spectacle. Tyson and Richard represent the pinnacle of two different eras of boxing. Before Richard, no one’s influence could match Tyson’s. And after Richard, it’s hard to imagine anyone else achieving this level. Even if they fight again, it’s unlikely to be on this scale. This fight really is once-in-a-lifetime,” Andy said emotionally.

Richard smiled. He was a bit excited too. Having 80,000 people waiting for you to fight—only rock stars usually get that kind of attention.

“We originally planned to push this fight back two years, waiting for Richard to dominate the heavyweight division completely before facing Tyson. But with Tyson's recent slump, we worried he might lose to a no-name fighter, so we moved it up. If we waited two more years, not even 100,000 people could stop it from happening,” Andy explained.

“What about two years ago?” Paul asked.

“No, it wouldn’t have worked. Richard wasn’t influential enough then. Unless he was born five to eight years earlier to fight Tyson at his peak, it wouldn’t have mattered,” Andy said.

“Hey Richard, you’re about to fight Tyson. Any last words?” Paul asked, pointing a handheld camera at him.

“Nope, it’s just an ordinary match. Keep a cool head,” Richard said with a grin.

“Pfft,” Paul rolled his eyes.

“Richard, it’s time!”

The assistant entered, calling out to him.

“Got it!”

Richard put on his red gloves and red shorts. It was hot, so he wasn’t wearing a shirt or any kind of robe. His muscular upper body was oiled and glistening, his defined muscles looking fierce and intimidating.

“Richard!!!”

As he walked out of the tunnel, the crowd roared. First, a few hundred people cheered, then a few thousand, and soon 80,000 voices echoed like a tsunami.

Richard’s calm demeanor faltered as he felt his heart race. Seeing tens of thousands of people waving and cheering for him was overwhelming.

He raised his arms and waved, prompting an even louder roar from the crowd.

As he walked down the 500-meter tunnel, he recognized familiar faces along the way—Gisele, Angela, An An, and Tyra Banks were all there. Even Patricia was standing and clapping, her cheeks flushed with excitement.

“This is unbelievable! More than 80,000 people are chanting Richard’s name. This is insane!” Patricia shouted excitedly.

“Calm down! If you scream now, you’ll lose your voice before the fight even starts,” Gisele teased with a smile.

“Gisele, what’s it like to have a boyfriend like him?” Angela asked.

Gisele’s lips curled into a smile. “It feels like a constant high.”

“Wow, so saucy!”

The others laughed.

Richard waved at them and kept walking.

He also spotted friends from the film industry—Keanu Reeves with Jennifer and little Ava, Charlize Theron, Sandra Bullock, Scarlett Johansson with her family, Reese Witherspoon, Jessica, Naomi, Amy Adams, James Franco, and others like Gwyneth Paltrow, Angelina Jolie, and Woody Allen.

Las Vegas was close to Los Angeles, so many friends had come to join the fun.

“Hey, Richard!” a large figure called from the stands.

Richard smiled and waved at Shaquille O’Neal.

“Richard, you can’t beat Tyson, I’m telling you!”

O'Neal suddenly shouted.

A lot of people looked at him and burst into laughter.

Richard, wearing boxing gloves, couldn’t flip him off, so he shook his fist. "You just wait."

Richard quickened his steps and reached the front row.

In the best seats up front, a group of wealthy elites had gathered: Norman and his girlfriend, along with his father, Old Holliday. There was Paris Hilton, Ivanka, and both Old Trump and Young Trump with their hats on.

Anthony was accompanied by Michelle, and nearby sat two big names, Larry Ellison and David Ellison, along with David’s sister, Megan.

Even Ellie showed up, and sitting next to her was a familiar face—Amazon’s head honcho, Jeff Bezos.

Richard glanced around, his whole body tingling. Since all these big shots had come to support him, he threw a few punches in greeting.

Every step felt like a heart-pounding moment.

“Hey, hurry up!”

Up in the ring, Tyson, looking impatient, shouted with a scowl, “What is this, a fan meet-and-greet?”

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” Richard smiled.

“Hmph, Richard, we agreed beforehand: no talking during the match. How about whoever talks loses?” Tyson proposed.

“Is talking against the rules?” Richard turned to the referee.

The ref shook his head.

“Go ahead and talk; I’ll smash your mouth,” Tyson roared, clenching his fists.

“Haha, bring it on!” Richard said casually.

Several reporters entered the ring, holding microphones for live interviews. Not only was HBO broadcasting the fight, but a few other networks had also picked up the broadcast rights.

Tyson grabbed a mic and shouted, “Today, right here, I’m going to beat him down so everyone knows who the real king is!”

“Wow!”

Tyson’s fans weren’t outnumbered by Richard’s, and hearing Tyson’s tough words, they roared in excitement.

“Richard, do you have anything to say?” the host asked loudly.

“Mr. Tyson is a great boxer and was a role model for me growing up. I’m honored to be in the ring with him.”

“Hmph, don’t think I’m going to go easy on you just because you said something nice,” Tyson snarled, shaking his fists.

Ignoring Tyson, Richard continued, “Mr. Tyson once ruled his era of boxing in the ’90s, but now it’s the new millennium. What I want to say is his era is over. Next up will be the era of Richard. That’s history in the making, and no one can stop it.”

“Richard era? That’s nonsense. If you want to rise to the top, beat me first,” Tyson scoffed.

“OK, get ready for defeat,” Richard smiled and stepped back to his corner to prepare.

Ding ding ding~

The match began, and Richard stepped into the center of the ring.

“Begin!”

“Roar!”

As soon as the referee gave the signal, Tyson let out a roar and his right fist flashed toward Richard like lightning.

Richard was startled—it was fast. He hurriedly raised his fists to block.

Boom!!!

Tyson’s punch slammed into Richard’s gloves, then collided with his forehead.

Richard instantly felt a tremendous impact, stronger than any opponent he’d ever faced.

This punch caught him off guard. Unprepared, he stumbled back several steps, crashing into the ropes, and his body swayed. If he hadn’t grabbed the ropes in time, he might have fallen.

“Wow!!”

The crowd gasped.

No one expected the match to start like this. Tyson had unleashed incredible power with that punch, sending Richard reeling. If Richard hadn’t raised his hands in time, Tyson could have KO’d him right there.

Those familiar with Tyson knew his punches were some of the heaviest in the boxing world—over 800 kg with his right hand, 500 kg with his left. These were stats from before 1990.

Back then, Tyson often delivered one-punch knockouts, frequently ending matches in a single round.

Since 1995, such explosive performances had become rare, but today, he showed it again.

The crowd roared in excitement.

“Tyson!!”

With over 80,000 people in attendance, even a single sneeze would sound like thunder, let alone the synchronized cheers of tens of thousands.

Amid the roar of the crowd, Richard had just stumbled back and was barely steadying himself at the ropes when Tyson’s follow-up punch was already coming at him.

“Kill!”

Tyson aimed for Richard’s head, delivering a brutal punch.

With his arm caught on the ropes, Richard had no time to dodge. At that moment, he exploded with extreme speed, focusing on Tyson’s fist and twisting his head just in time.

Tyson’s punch whizzed past his ear, missing him by a hair.

Missed!

Not one to let up, Tyson swung a powerful hook, sweeping across the ring.

By now, Richard had regained enough time to dodge. He executed a classic butterfly step, escaping from the ropes and slipping to Tyson’s left, narrowly avoiding Tyson’s combo.

Richard looked at Tyson with excitement. No wonder he had dominated an era—Tyson’s strength was formidable, and Richard had underestimated him earlier.

Facing such a strong opponent, Richard felt no fear. Instead, he was filled with excitement and thrill. Finally, a fight worth giving it his all.

(End of chapter)

Chapter 314: A Crazed Fight

"Come on, bro-in-law, you got this!"

In the stands, Patria shouted, her voice hoarse from all the cheering.

“What's going on, Gisele? Richard is so strong, how is he getting pushed back by Tyson?”

Anna asked in surprise. Out of their whole group, she was the only real boxing fan and had watched all of Richard’s matches. Sure, he'd been pushed back before, but not like this—so sudden and unexpected.

In the past, he always gave off an air of confidence, like he was in control. This time, it felt rushed.

Could he lose?

“I don’t know. I rarely watch his matches.”

Gisele clenched her fists, furrowing her brow. She used to avoid watching Richard fight because she couldn’t stand seeing him get hit, let alone come to a live match.

This time, Patria had pestered her into coming, and Richard kept reassuring her that he’d win with style—that Tyson wouldn’t even land a punch.

What a big talker!

Gisele bit her lip, staring intently at Richard.

“Gisele, did you two get up to something last night? Richard looks like he’s got weak legs,”

Angela teased, noticing how nervous Gisele was.

Gisele shot her a look. "Don't say such things. I'm pregnant."

“Uh, pregnancy doesn’t mean you can’t... I heard that it actually helps...”

“Shut up!”

Gisele jokingly covered her mouth.

“Hahaha, Angela, you’re too much,”

Tyra Banks and the others laughed.

“Stop it, you guys. Focus on the fight. Richard’s about to make a comeback,”

Anna shot a side-eye at the group of troublemakers and turned her attention back to the ring.

---

“Richard’s getting pushed back by Tyson?”

Norman was shocked.

“Tyson’s strong too. Maybe Richard just had a rough start,”

Paris chimed in.

“No, Richard’s clearly stronger than Tyson. Since beating Roy Jones Jr. in ‘99, it’s rare to see him get pushed like this,”

Norman said thoughtfully, stroking his chin.

“He’s been knocked down before. Being pushed back is nothing,”

Ivanka added.

“Haha, it’s not the same. Richard’s an entertainer.

He always says, ‘People come to watch the fight live, so I can’t let it be boring.’ He likes to create drama in the ring—starting weak, then winning with a thrilling comeback, turning the tables at the last minute.

Is he doing that again? His acting just keeps getting better.”

Norman mused, still stroking his chin.

“Richard’s fights are definitely exciting. No matter who he’s up against, there’s never a dull moment. I wonder what kind of storyline we’re in for this time,”

Old Tom laughed.

“Go, Richard!”

Paris cheered.

---

“This match feels... strange,”

In the audience, Holyfield rubbed his chin, murmuring to himself.

“What’s strange about it?”

Old Don King asked.

“Tyson’s looking off. His current form isn’t much different from his prime in the ‘90s. Did you see that punch that grazed Richard’s ear? It was lightning fast, almost like his peak years.

If he’d thrown that punch when he fought me, I wouldn’t have dodged it.”

Holyfield said.

“Fast? Richard dodged it easily,”

Don King pointed out.

“Easily? No, no. Richard’s speed is terrifying. If it was that easy, Tyson’s punch wouldn’t have even grazed his ear. This is a true peak versus peak showdown—ultimate strength against ultimate speed. This match will go down in history,”

Holyfield praised.

“Who do you think will win?”

Don King asked.

“Richard,”

John Ruiz chimed in from the side. “People who haven’t fought Richard have no idea how terrifying he is. Facing him is like being trapped in an iron cage—you just can’t break through his defense. He’s overwhelmingly strong, to the point where it’s hopeless.”

“That bad?” Don King asked.

“Not an exaggeration at all. You’ve seen his matches. No matter who he fights, he always manages to KO his opponent in the final round.

Why does he knock them out in the last round, time and time again, not just in domestic matches but in Germany, the UK, everywhere? The reason is simple: He’s confident he can KO any opponent at any time. Whether it’s Roy Jones Jr., me, James Toney, or even you, Evander, his confidence comes from his power, speed, and precision.”

“That sounds terrifying,”

Don King said in surprise.

“It is. After fighting him, I realized he’s been holding a winning hand the whole time.

In other words, he could’ve ended the fight in the first round, but he didn’t want to. He drags it out, making his opponents perform with him. No matter how well they do, they can’t escape his final punch. It’s utterly despairing,”

Holyfield said with a bitter smile. Fighting Richard was like being a mouse toyed with by a cat.

“But Tyson is great too—he just pushed Richard back,”

Don King pointed out.

Holyfield smirked. “Take a closer look. Doesn’t his condition seem... familiar?”

“Condition?”

Don King adjusted his glasses, peering at Tyson’s face. “Oh, he’s using...”

“Yep, most people don’t use much, so it’s not noticeable. But in his condition, it’s obvious he’s used a lot. Anyone in the industry can see it,”

John Ruiz said.

“He must be desperate to go that far,”

Don King shook his head.

“It makes sense, though. Richard’s undefeated. If Tyson beats him, no matter how, it’ll give Richard his first taste of defeat and prove that prime Tyson is stronger,”

Holyfield commented.

Prime Tyson was indeed unbeatable. Nobody could take him down. Holyfield only managed to win against Tyson in ‘96, after Tyson’s decline. Only someone like Richard could even challenge prime Tyson.

“This match will be tough for Richard to win. It’s just a question of how long he can last,”

Holyfield said, watching the ring.

“Go, Tyson!”

“Go, Richard!”

From the start, the fight between these two heavyweight champions had been electrifying, with the fans screaming their lungs out, cheering for their favorites.

In the ring, Richard stepped to the side, avoiding Tyson’s barrage, a spark of excitement in his eyes. This was the kind of fight he lived for.

“Attack!”

Tyson threw a combination of punches, but none landed. He followed up with a powerful, clean straight punch.

“Attack!”

With their skills evenly matched, Richard abandoned defense. As Tyson threw another punch, Richard took advantage of the opening and aimed a punch directly at Tyson’s face.

Boom!  

Boom!  

Richard, taller by 8 centimeters and with a 15-centimeter reach advantage, wasn’t slower than the explosive Tyson.

His punch, thrown after Tyson’s, landed squarely on Tyson’s forehead. At almost the same moment, Tyson’s punch struck Richard’s cheek.

Thud, thud, thud...  

Tyson staggered back from Richard’s powerful blow, his feet skidding several steps. His back hit the ropes, bouncing him forward, but he couldn’t keep his balance and fell face-first onto the canvas with a loud thud.

Boom!

The sound echoed as he hit the floor.

On the opposite side, Richard had just taken a punch as well, and it didn’t feel great. Tyson had landed an uppercut. There were rumors that Richard, like Morrison, had a weak chin, making it his vulnerability.

Richard didn’t believe his chin was fragile, but getting hit there wasn’t exactly pleasant. He slightly tilted his head as Tyson's punch came in.

Tyson’s fist slammed into the left side of Richard’s face.

Tyson’s famed power was no joke. Hit by a force of nearly 800 kilograms to the jaw, Richard stumbled backward, barely managing to steady himself by grabbing the ropes. His head spun, and his ears rang.

Shaking his head, he finally became aware of the thunderous roars from the crowd. Cheers, screams, and shouts erupted from the stands.

The entire audience was on its feet, clapping and shouting, celebrating the spectacular duel that had just unfolded.

That was indeed a duel.

When Tyson threw his punch, everyone expected Richard to defend. After all, his defense was outstanding. His reflexes were on par with lightweight fighters, enabling him to fend off heavyweight attacks, even those from a Tyson who was back in peak form.

But the anticipated defense or retreat never happened.

Facing Tyson’s massive punch, Richard chose to meet force with force. He threw his own punch, a brutal blow that crashed right into Tyson’s forehead.

Tyson collapsed on the canvas.

The crowd erupted in screams, as loud as thunder, shaking the arena.

“Richard, finish him! Knock him out!”

Even Larry Ellison forgot his age, shouting toward the ring.

“This fight is intense! People with heart conditions can’t handle this,” Jeff Bezos said, clapping.

“It’s not just in the ring; even the audience’s shouts are terrifying,” Ellie said, clutching her chest, trying to catch her breath.

Watching fights on TV was nothing like being here in person. The atmosphere was explosive, like ten tons of gasoline had ignited in the arena. It was hot, suffocating, and made hearts race uncontrollably. Blood boiled, and it felt like your nose was on fire.

This kind of experience made you long for an oxygen tank.

Without one, all people could do was take deep breaths. Many were breathing heavily and shouting at the same time, as if they were venting some sort of violent emotion.

Seeing the flushed faces around her and hearing the frenzied cheers, Ellie understood the allure of boxing for the first time.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6…”

In the ring, the referee knelt beside Tyson, counting.

Tyson lay on the ground, fists clenched near his head. He pounded the canvas, then slowly pushed himself up. He shook his head and glared at Richard, his eyes bloodshot.

“Wow, Tyson’s getting back up.”

Tyson was back on his feet.

The fight continued.

“Begin!”

“Kill!”

Before the referee could finish his sentence, Tyson had already launched into another attack. He unleashed his signature straight punches, maximizing both power and speed, aiming directly at Richard.

“Kill!”

Richard didn’t dodge. He knew Tyson’s time was limited. If he didn’t test himself against this level of skill now, he might never get another chance.

He retaliated with an equally brutal punch.

Boom!

This time, their fists collided. Tyson threw a left uppercut toward Richard’s jaw, but Richard dodged to the side. At the same time, Richard’s right fist swung back toward Tyson, who quickly evaded.

Richard pressed on, and Tyson dodged again, countering with a strike of his own. Richard narrowly avoided it, retaliating with a heavy blow, but Tyson’s speed matched his own.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Neither held back as they fought. Their fists—fast and powerful—relentlessly targeted each other. Straight punches, hooks, jabs, and swings flew between them.

Both men demonstrated the highest level of boxing. Their attacks were fast, their dodging was at the limit, and their movements were fluid, mixing offense and defense seamlessly.

Down in the crowd, even the professional boxers were wide-eyed, stunned by what they saw.

The regular fans, witnessing this extreme display, were cheering wildly.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

After a few more rounds, both fighters were drenched in sweat. Tyson was gasping for air.

“Kill!”

Tyson roared, launching a double punch at Richard’s jaw.

“Kill!”

Richard had gone berserk. He let out a shout and unleashed his famous jabs, throwing over ten punches in a second. Three of them connected with Tyson’s forehead.

Tyson, too, landed his signature uppercut on Richard’s chin.

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The first round was over.

The fighters were separated. Tyson’s right eyebrow was swollen, his eye bloodshot, and he leaned heavily against the corner post, swaying slightly.

Richard, bleeding from the corner of his mouth, felt his head buzzing. He touched his chin with his glove and, grinning through his bloody lips, thought, *This is insane.*

“Richard, Tyson’s acting strange. He’s probably on something,” Coach Wesley said in the corner.

“I know.”

It wasn’t uncommon for boxers to take banned substances. The organizers wanted exciting matches, so enforcement of the rules was lax, giving many fighters an opportunity to cheat.

Before fights, both fighters would leave a urine sample. Some even used children’s urine to avoid detection. After the match, the samples would be checked for illegal substances.

If a boxer on drugs lost, nothing would happen. As long as the crowd enjoyed the fight, no one cared. But if the winner tested positive, the match would be voided, marked as “No Contest.”

Tyson’s condition was clearly abnormal, likely due to a high dosage of something.

The referees knew too but couldn’t stop the match—how could they explain that to the 80,000 fans in the arena?

“Richard, play it safe. You don’t have to go head-to-head. Just last three rounds, and Tyson will collapse on his own.”

“No need. This is too much fun.”

Ding! Ding! Ding!

The next round began.

Tyson approached, his swollen eyebrow glowing red and his injured right eye bloodshot. Panting heavily, with his blood-red mouthguard, he looked fierce.

Richard grinned through his battered lips, remembering their pre-fight agreement: no talking. So, he kept quiet.

“Begin!”

“Kill!”

Tyson attacked, not wasting a second. He charged at Richard, breathing heavily.

Richard’s counterattack was just as fast. He could feel Tyson’s power fading and knew this might be his last chance to fight such an evenly matched opponent.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

Their punches thundered like lightning bolts.

The pace of the fight never slowed, and the audience’s cheers never died down.

The rapid exchange of blows matched the crowd’s intensity, their roars fueling the fighters’ frenzy.

Boom! Boom! Boom!

In under two minutes, they had thrown more than sixty punches at each other.

Richard’s body steamed with heat, his lip bleeding even more.

Tyson, on the other hand, looked eerie. His breathing was labored, his face turning from red to pale. His swollen eyebrow looked worse, and blood dripped from his nose.

“Kill!”

Tyson shouted.

A powerful punch came flying toward Richard.

“Kill!”

Richard’s counter was always on time. No matter what Tyson threw, he was ready to match it.

Boom!

Tyson’s punch landed on Richard’s chin.

But Richard’s fist struck Tyson’s forehead again. His left hand followed with a hook, sweeping across Tyson’s face.

Boom!

Tyson’s head snapped back, sweat flying off him. He stumbled, took a step back, looked up at the ceiling, and collapsed heavily onto the canvas.

“Boom!”

The crowd erupted once more, their energy reaching new heights.

Some cheered for Richard, others shouted for Tyson to get up, while many just screamed “Kill! Kill! Kill!” like madmen.

Tyson stayed down.

The referee knelt and began to count.

“10, 9, 8, 7, 6…”

The crowd chanted along.

“5, 4, 3, 2, 1!”

The count finished, but Tyson still hadn’t risen.

“Boom!”

“Richard wins!!!”

The entire arena exploded with excitement.

Richard smiled, waving to the crowd in all directions.

Click!

A reporter from The New York Times snapped a perfect shot of Richard smiling. In the photo, Richard appeared tall, muscular, and powerful. His strong physique exuded a fierce beauty, and his handsome face bore a soft smile.

Even though he was drenched in sweat, and blood dripped from his mouth, it didn’t diminish his presence. He stood with his arms raised, looking out at the tens of thousands of spectators, basking in the cheers of more than 80,000 people. Tyson lay on the ground just a short distance from him.

In that moment, he looked like a king being crowned.

“The new king of the ring: Richard Brad’s era is about to begin.”

That’s the headline the reporter thought of for their article.

—End of Chapter—

Chapter 315: The Shocking Prize Money

When the fight was over, Richard threw a massive party at the Belle Palace Hotel.

Everyone he knew, including friends from various circles, coworkers from several companies, business partners, the boxing team, fans, and fighters—over a thousand people—gathered for the event. Richard rented out the entire hotel and spent more than a million dollars on drinks and food, hiring five bands to keep the party going strong.

“Richard, your strength is beyond what I thought was humanly possible. Are you even human?”

Larry Ellison joked at the party.

Earlier, when planning the event, Richard had invited this bigshot, and Larry Ellison graciously decided to stay.

Hearing Larry’s question, Richard regretted inviting him.

“Maybe I’m a Kryptonian, just like Superman.”

“Haha, don’t forget, we’re fellow earthlings.” Larry grinned, waving his cigar.

“Richard, the newspapers say you became so strong because you participated in a genetic experiment at the FBI lab. Is that true?” Larry’s son asked curiously.

Richard smiled and looked over at Larry Ellison. “Larry, do you believe that?”

Larry shook his head. “If such experiments existed, I’d be the first to sign up. When you get older, you realize that having a healthy body is more important than anything else.”

As early as 2001, there were already rumors circulating that Richard had undergone genetic enhancement to become so powerful.

When the news broke, Larry Ellison and many other wealthy, aging individuals started investigating it.

In the U.S., every lab is funded by some sort of corporation or consortium, including those run by intelligence agencies. A quick investigation revealed whether the FBI had conducted genetic experiments, and they dug up a lot of data on gene research. But none of it was connected to Richard.

They also looked into Richard’s background and found out that he was a hardworking athlete who had been training with his father since the age of six or seven, later training with his uncle, who was a spy. After that, he trained in martial arts, kung fu, and boxing all over New York.

The investigation concluded that Richard was naturally gifted and had built his strength through intense training, much like Mike Tyson and many other extraordinary athletes.

Even with this conclusion, some refused to let it go. They continued investigating, obtaining Richard’s blood, urine, and other samples through medical exams during his fights.

Several bio labs studied these samples for months and came to the conclusion that "Richard is a physically strong but normal human." His strength wasn’t beyond human limits, much like how some people can eat glass or have magnetic bodies—Richard was just naturally gifted.

After one or two years of investigation, without any surprising results, the wealthy elite were disappointed. They had all hoped Richard was some sort of outlier, Larry Ellison included.

For a billionaire who feels young at heart, being surrounded by beautiful women but unable to do anything about it is pure torture.

“Richard, I have a small favor to ask. A few years ago, I invested in a medical research institute focused on delaying aging and enhancing physical health. Could you come by for a quick check-up? Just a simple one,” Larry asked, not wanting to miss the chance of examining someone who seemed superhuman.

“No problem,” Richard smiled. He was curious to see if his body had any unique traits as well. He had undergone several medical exams at professional institutions before, and the results were always normal.

“Haha, Richard, would you be interested in investing in medical research? I founded that institute, and I can give you a spot,” Larry asked, excited.

“Sounds interesting, we can talk about it,” Richard replied. Larry was thrilled to hear this and had a few more drinks with Richard before leaving.

After Ellison left, Richard chatted with Bezos.

The two had met back in 2001. In recent years, Richard continued increasing his stake in Amazon, now holding 6.2% of the company. He had also attended a couple of Amazon events.

Since Richard never interfered with Bezos’s management style and actively supported him in board meetings, especially during the stock price dips in 2001 and 2002, Bezos had a positive impression of him.

Tonight, Bezos had something to discuss with him.

After the dot-com bubble burst in 2000, Amazon went through several major changes, including launching Marketplace, transforming from an online bookstore to a full e-commerce platform that competed with eBay.

The company faced multiple crises along the way, especially in May of last year, when Amazon’s stock was targeted by malicious investors. The media was also buzzing with reports of internal issues at Amazon, prompting many shareholders to pull out, causing the stock to drop to $6.

Richard and Ellie continued supporting Bezos and even bought up more stock.

After six months, the company successfully completed its transition, and the stock price began to stabilize. Bezos was now launching a new plan to sign with publishers and publish their own e-books, reducing costs by becoming a publisher.

Richard listened carefully to Bezos’s proposal, asked a few questions, and, of course, offered his support.

Bezos may not have much hair, but he’s definitely smart.

After chatting for a while, Mr. Thompson approached Richard and invited him to talk about a potential partnership to invest in hotels and airlines.

“Richard, interested in learning more?” Mr. Thompson asked.

Richard smiled and nodded, “Mr. Thompson, you’re a successful man. I’d be happy to work with successful people.”

“Haha, Richard, I’ve always been impressed by you. When I saw you with Ivanka, I thought you two were a perfect match. Too bad you’re not my son-in-law,” Mr. Thompson sighed.

“Dad, what are you talking about?” Ivanka scolded.

“Am I wrong? Have you ever met a more outstanding or cooler young man than Richard?”

Ivanka rolled her eyes playfully. “Richard, do you think there’s anyone cooler or more outstanding than you?”

Richard thought for a moment and laughed, “Probably not. What do you think?”

“Show-off!” Ivanka teased, laughing.

“Haha, you two are the same age, you should talk more. I’ll leave you to it,” Mr. Thompson said, walking away.

“Richard, you’ve become so amazing. You used to be Cinderella, but now you’ve transformed into royalty.”

“No, a king,” Richard laughed.

“Haha, alright, King.” Ivanka giggled.

“Hey, Richard! Ivanka! Come have a drink!” Paris called out.

“Coming!”

The party was filled with people, and Richard made his way around, chatting with everyone and having plenty of drinks. By the end, he could barely keep going.

“Finally, I can take a break,” Richard sighed, sitting down and accepting a glass of juice from Mrs. Bündchen, finishing it in one gulp.

“You’ve got a cut on your face. Be careful,” she said, gently touching his cheek.

“It’s nothing, just a scratch,” Richard smiled, holding her hand.

“Richard, guess how many cable viewers watched the fight?” Andy walked over, holding a folder, looking excited.

“It must have been over two million, right?”

The final match of the 2001 tour had 2.1 million pay-per-view subscribers across North America.

“Yes, the initial numbers have surpassed 2.5 million, and it’s expected to reach over 3 million. That’s a new record. The previous high was only 2.8 million.”

“That’s great news. How much was the prize money?” Richard asked, stroking his chin.

“It’s estimated to be $100 million. According to the contract with Tyson, the winner takes 60%, so your earnings are around $60 million, maybe more,” Andy smiled.

“$60 million?!” Paul exclaimed.

“Bro, you made $60 million in less than 10 minutes?” Patricia gasped, covering her mouth.

“$60 million in 10 minutes? That’s $6 million a minute! Is this even real?” Kevin Campbell was in shock.

“$60 million isn’t that much. No need to be so surprised,” Richard said, dismissively looking at them. For a billionaire, $60 million wasn’t much.

“Not much?!” Kevin Campbell couldn’t handle it. He had worked hard for years in music and band management, making at most a few hundred thousand dollars a year. And yet, Richard just made $60 million in 10 minutes. Was he even human?

He took big gulps of Macallan whiskey, which cost $10,000 a bottle. Might as well enjoy it while it’s there.

“Richard, aside from the prize money, this fight set a lot of records,” Andy said, flipping through the folder. “Biggest live audience, highest PPV revenue, largest single-fight prize—earning $60 million in under two rounds, that’s another record. The newspapers and TV are all covering last night’s match. The buzz will only keep growing, and the numbers will keep climbing.”

Richard nodded and smiled at the folder. “Andy, this is a party. Let’s not talk business right now.”

“Haha, fair enough,” Andy laughed, joining the celebration.

(End of chapter)