harleyscars Page 166
Page 166
"It's over? It's over just like that?!"
"One punch! He only threw one powerful punch!"
The commentator practically jumped up from the commentary booth, shouting at the top of his lungs, "Unbelievable! Unbelievable! Ladies and gentlemen! I simply can't believe my eyes!"
"Victor Lee!"
"Victor Lee from the South Side of Chicago, USA!"
"The first round! It only took twenty-nine seconds!"
"He knocked out defending champion Nikolai Valuev with a terrifying uppercut!"
"Direct KO!"
A new world boxing champion has been crowned!
"The fastest knockout boxing championship in history!"
"One of the youngest heavyweight boxing champions in history!"
"A miracle! A miraculous night in London!"
The spotlight shone wildly on Victor Lee.
He himself seemed stunned, standing there, looking at his opponent lying on the ground, looking at the referee's waving arm, as if he had not yet recovered from his devastating outburst.
The anger on his face gradually faded, replaced by a blank, almost empty expression—he hadn't expected to win so easily.
It wasn't until Frankie, Old Jack, and Ethan rushed into the ring, hugged him tightly, and patted his back that he seemed to realize what had happened.
More than anything, it was a tremendous sense of relief and an unreal, illusory feeling.
Staff rushed onto the stage to check on Valuev's condition. Soon, the giant was awakened and, with assistance, struggled to sit up. His eyes were still dazed, unable to understand why he was sitting there.
The boxing world was in an uproar!
Reporters in the media area rushed to the camera phones like madmen, scrambling to get the explosive news out.
The title was almost instantly decided: "The Most Unexpected Disaster of the Century!"
"The raging tiger destroys the colossus!"
"A knockout outside the courtroom!"
"The fastest coronation in history!"
In the VIP section, Sir Simon Lester raised his eyebrows slightly, a cryptic expression on his face. He nodded gently and took out a pen to write something down in his notebook.
Frankie was so excited he was incoherent, hugging Viktor and shouting, "You did it! Kid! You did it! You're the champion! The world champion!"
Old Jack gripped Viktor's hand tightly, tears welling in his eyes, and murmured, "I knew it... I knew I could train a world boxing champion! I'm not a second-rate coach!!!"
The host picked up the microphone again, his voice trembling with excitement: "Ladies and gentlemen! Let's announce the result! Winner! And! NEW! WBA Heavyweight World Champion—'Iron Fist' Victor Lee!!!"
The gold belt was brought onto the boxing ring.
That dazzling gold, with its heavy texture, was tied around Viktor's waist.
He raised his arms, accepting the mixed reactions of adoration, shock, lingering doubt, and frenzied cheers from the audience.
The lights were blinding, and the applause was deafening, but he felt as if it were all separated by a layer of glass.
The touch of his fingertips on the cool surface of the gold belt brought him back to reality.
In the craziest and most shocking way.
But is this really the end?
Tonight, he is the focus of London, the eye of the storm in the boxing world.
What will he face tomorrow?
Is the gold belt around his waist the starting point of redemption, or the beginning of a deeper vortex?
But at this moment, he is the victor, the champion. With twenty-nine seconds and an iron fist burning with anger and determination, he shocked the world.
·······
In the early morning of November 22, 1986, in a suite at the Dorchester Hotel in London, Victor Lee gazed at Alice Moretti sleeping soundly on the bed—the methods of eccentric practice were interesting, and affection could indeed reduce cortisol.
Moonlight streamed through the gap in the curtains, falling precisely on her slightly parted lips, as if she wanted to say something but hadn't yet had the chance to.
Viktor's gaze shifted to the newly acquired WBA gold belt on the bedside table, the metal gleaming coldly in the dim light.
Just hours earlier, the belt had been held high in the air by the referee, with thousands of spectators chanting his name.
Now, it lies there silently, like a magnificent shackle.
Viktor quietly got up, walked to the window, opened it, and lit the black chocolate bar.
The London night sky was dyed orange-red by the city lights, a stark contrast to the New York night sky he remembered.
Just hours ago, he was still fighting, but now he is trapped in this unfamiliar city, awaiting the court's verdict on his and Frankie's fate—despite self-defense, the weight of five lives still needs the law to make the final determination.
"Victor?"
Alice's voice came from behind, hoarse and sleepy.
He turned around and saw that she had sat up, the sheet had slipped down to her waist, revealing the smooth lines of her shoulders and neck.
"Wake you up?"
"No, it's just that I can't reach out and touch your second brother."
She smiled slightly and patted the empty seat next to her.
Viktor returned to the bedside, but did not lie down; he simply sat and gazed at her.
What time is your flight?
"Eight o'clock in the morning."
Alice's smile dimmed slightly. "I have to go back to New York. The exclusive news needs to be delivered immediately!"
He nodded, his fingers unconsciously tracing the raised patterns on the gold belt.
They all knew that wasn't the real reason—the message had already been faxed back.
"I'm going to miss you."
Alice said softly, her fingers tracing over his still-slightly fading bruises.
Victor took her hand and pressed it against his cheek. "Caroline will arrive in a few hours."
The air suddenly solidified.
Alice withdrew her hand, her tone becoming restrained and distant: "Caroline Channing always gets what she wants, doesn't she? I'm more like a tool, or rather, a secondhand one."
Viktor did not answer.
The answer is obvious.
Caroline is the daughter of a New York investment tycoon, and her father also needs Victor's Skywind City Group to maintain the stock price. Victor and Caroline are a perfect match.
"We have a few more hours."
Victor finally said, leaning down to kiss her: "Tonight we can go on all night."
Alice responded to his kiss with passion.
The strong winds stirring up the dark clouds were not something that needed to be deliberately created.
·······
The phone rang precisely at seven o'clock in the morning.
Viktor was jolted awake from a light sleep and reached for the microphone on the bedside table.
Alice was washing up in the bathroom, the water was running.
“Victor! My nephew!”
Old Joe's voice boomed, and even across the Atlantic, one could imagine the beaming smile on his chubby face. "You did it! Twenty years old! The youngest WBA heavyweight champion in history! I told you you would shock the world!"
Victor couldn't help but smile. "Good morning, Joe. How's it going in Chicago?"
"It's insane! Everyone's gone mad! Your picture's on the front page of every newspaper! 'Far East Tiger' Victor Lee! The kids in the South are going crazy, your story is everywhere!"
“Listen, kid, I know you're in a complicated situation right now, but remember, no matter what happens, we're here for you. Need the best lawyer? I can—”
“Thank you, Joe, but Lowell has already arranged for a lawyer.”
Victor interrupted him, "The hearing starts next Monday, there shouldn't be any problem, it was self-defense."
"Of course! Of course it was self-defense! Those bastards!!"
Old Joe was indignant. "You and Frankie are just protecting yourselves! The media is all on your side! Chicago doesn't like the British, but if you need it, Frankie says he can shut those families up!"
"No need... thank you."
After chatting for a few more minutes, just as Viktor hung up, the phone rang again.
This time it's Lei, his former sparring partner.
"Victor! You've become a world champion!"
Ray's voice was shrill with excitement, "I saw the moment you knocked out that Russian! Uppercut! Bang! He fell down! That was beautiful!"
Viktor smiled and thanked him, still able to hear the noise from the street outside Foucault's boxing gym on the other end of the phone.
Ray must have made the call from the public phone at the corner grocery store.
Rocky followed: "I saw the news! They even gave a special report on your fight result! You bastard! Remember the days when we trained together? Now you're the world champion!"
Each phone call, delivered with a thick Chicago accent and genuine joy, briefly transported Victor back to the neighborhood where he was born and raised.
However, the next moment, the tone on the other end of the phone changed to calm and elegant.
"Victor, congratulations."
Congressman Ubelman's voice was calm and composed: "An impressive victory. I have spoken with several friends in the UK, and your hearing will proceed without any problems. However, once you return to the United States, I hope you will consider campaigning for me. Your story is inspiring and particularly appealing to minority communities."
Viktor managed to cope.
The sound of water has stopped; Alice will soon emerge, dressed and ready to leave.
Sure enough, when he hung up on Ubelman, Alice came out of the bathroom, already dressed in an elegant cashmere coat and long skirt, her suitcase standing at her feet.