บท 141: ### Chapter 140: This is a War (5K)
On the evening of March 14th, the second match began, titled 'The Answer'.
Who is the number one in the light heavyweight division: WBC Light Heavyweight Champion Richard Brad or WBA Light Heavyweight Champion Roy Jones? Was Roy Jones' loss in the previous match unjust? Does Richard Brad truly have the skills?
"Today at Caesars Palace in Las Vegas, we will get an answer!"
NBC field reporter Catherine reported into the camera with a microphone in hand.
"OK!"
Cameraman Jack gave a gesture, then turned off the camera and audio.
"Phew, it's too hot!"
Catherine fanned herself with her hand.
"Catherine, want some water?"
"Oh, thank you!"
Catherine took the bottle of mineral water, drank a sip, and sighed, "Today is really lively. Over a hundred fellow reporters are here; it's no less than last month's Holyfield vs. Lewis match."
"Yes, the impact of the shooting incident was too significant. It involved three boxing champions, plus Richard bare-handedly taking down four armed robbers. This news has high entertainment value."
Cameraman Jack tipped his hat and looked at the crowd in the distance.
At this moment, they were at the entrance of Caesars Palace Entertainment Center, surrounded by hundreds of colleagues armed with cameras, some doing live reports, some waiting for news.
"Do you believe it's true that one man took down four armed robbers?"
Catherine put on her hat and asked.
"Haha, are you questioning the authenticity of this event?"
"Yes, no matter how skilled a boxing champion is, they can't be faster than a bullet. The idea that he bare-handedly took down four armed robbers sounds too fake, like a movie script."
Catherine blinked as she spoke.
"It is quite exaggerated, but eyewitnesses said Richard first grabbed a gun and shot the other three robbers in the wrist before taking them down."
"I don't believe it. I'd rather believe he took them down with his fists than believe he could shoot three robbers in the wrist. That's harder than winning a match."
"Why don't you ask him directly when he arrives?"
"Of course, the audience must be curious about this, so I'll definitely ask him."
Catherine squinted her eyes and checked her interview notes. She had prepared eighteen questions for Richard Brad, hoping to ask a few more when the time came.
"Richard is here!!"
Someone shouted as a stretch Lincoln came down the street and slowly stopped at the entrance.
Richard Brad, dressed in a suit, got out of the car.
Boom~
The reporters and cameramen all rushed forward.
"Let's go too!"
Catherine waved, holding the microphone, and rushed forward.
"Mr. Brad, how confident are you in this match?"
A fast-running reporter asked.
"One hundred percent!"
Richard replied warmly yet confidently.
"Mr. Brad, it's said that you were shot in the leg during the shooting incident a few days ago. Is your injury healed now?"
A reporter from The Sun asked.
"Yes, it's completely healed."
Richard replied.
"Mr. Brad, it's said that the robbers threatened you during the robbery to make you give up the match. Will this affect your performance?"
A Boxing Magazine reporter asked.
"No, no one can scare me. I'll go all out and defeat my opponent."
Richard said, clenching his fist.
"Mr. Brad!"
Catherine finally squeezed to the front, dissatisfied with the previous questions asked by her colleagues, thinking they were all trivial.
"Mr. Brad, some say the entire shooting incident was staged by you to put pressure on your opponent. What do you have to say about this?"
"Haha, Miss Reporter, every news story generates countless rumors. If every piece of information needed an explanation from the person involved, we'd spend our whole lives explaining.
As a journalist, a news gatekeeper, you have the responsibility to select real and valuable news for the audience, not just grab a random hearsay and try to create a story from it."
Richard said with a smile.
Catherine snorted quietly, "Mr. Brad, many in the boxing world call you a tactical master in the ring. What's your strategy for this match?"
"Winning with skill!"
Richard replied.
"Really? But in an interview in February, you told reporters your strategy was to knock out Roy Jones with one punch, just like the first time. Is that still the plan?"
Catherine asked loudly with the microphone.
"Yes, ma'am, you're correct."
Richard smiled with his lips pursed.
"So, Mr. Brad, you admit to using a strategy in this match, right?"
Catherine smiled lightly.
"Yes, every match involves strategy. It's normal."
Richard said.
"Mr. Brad, it's said your opponent, Roy Jones, is under a lot of pressure due to the shooting incident. If you win, will he feel ashamed?"
Catherine squinted her eyes and smiled.
"."
Richard moved his lips, "Miss Reporter, this match will be conducted under the supervision of the Boxing Association. Winning or losing depends entirely on skill. Whether Mr. Jones or I win, we should both be happy, not ashamed."
"Miss Reporter!"
Anthony stepped forward, "The shooting incident negatively affected both Mr. Brad and Mr. Jones. They are both victims and are competing under great psychological pressure.
For Mr. Jones, it's potential blame, and for Mr. Brad, it's a death threat.
I don't believe someone enduring a death threat needs to feel ashamed or apologize after winning a match.
He should be proud! He must be proud! Because he overcame the fear of death and completed an excellent match.
If you have more questions, you can ask after the match. I believe Mr. Brad will be happy to answer them all.
Anyone else?"
Anthony asked.
"Mr. Brad, I have a question!"
Dozens of reporters around raised their hands, eager to ask their questions.
"Catherine, do you have a grudge against Mr. Brad?"
Cameraman Jack asked Catherine as they withdrew from the crowd.
"No grudge, just normal questions. Is there a problem?"
Catherine fanned herself and asked.
"Yes, you were too intense. I heard someone nearby saying you must have been dumped by Mr. Brad to ask such sharp questions."
"Nonsense, their questions were too dull. I just asked a few sharp ones. That guy is just too cunning."
Catherine snorted softly, looking at the man in the crowd.
"He really doesn't look like a boxing champion. Wearing a suit, gentle in demeanor, answers questions logically, like a writer. How could someone like that become a champion?"
"Because he can fight."
Jack clenched his fist and laughed.
"Alright, and he's very smart, very cunning, a complex and charming man."
Catherine brushed her hair back and picked up the microphone.
"Let's go, we have more questions to ask."
"Ugh, more? Look, they're leaving. Did you scare them off?"
"Haha, what a coward!"
Catherine waved the microphone in frustration.
——
"Hey, Richard, was that NBC reporter your ex-girlfriend? She seems to still have a thing for you."
At the entrance of Caesar's Palace, Norman caught up and asked.
"Cut it out. I don't have a thing for reporters."
Richard said while walking.
"Maybe you should try. I once dated an entertainment host; it wasn't bad."
Norman smirked.
Richard shook his head. "How have you been in Vegas these days?"
"Not bad. Last night, I called three hot chicks, all dancers from the casino. They had amazing bodies, it was fantastic."
Norman laughed.
"With your stamina, you probably lasted three minutes, one minute per girl, including the time to switch. How did you manage to enjoy it?"
Paul grinned.
"Fuck you, shut up!"
Norman snapped.
"And your genital warts haven't healed yet."
"Shut up!!"
Before Paul could finish, Norman roared in anger.
"Haha, alright, I won't say more, but the news about your STD has spread from the East Coast to the West Coast. Quite an achievement, haha~"
" ."
Norman stared coldly at him, his face turning purple.
Last time at a party, Richard's careless words ruined his reputation in New York, leaving him no choice but to pick up girls in Los Angeles. To his dismay, rumors spread faster than planes, and he faced constant embarrassment.
Unsuccessful in L.A., he seized the chance to come to Vegas for a competition. Now, he dreaded any mention of his condition. If the news spread to Vegas, what would he do?
"Paul, stop it. Norman doesn't have that disease; it's all a misunderstanding."
Richard said.
"Alright!"
"Hmph, Richard, don't pretend to be a good guy. If it weren't for you, would I be in this mess?"
Norman grumbled.
"Sorry, I didn't expect it to be this serious. How about we hold a press conference and clarify that you don't have the disease?"
"Screw off!"
Norman flipped him off angrily and left the group, walking into the Caesars Palace Entertainment Center.
Caesars Palace, located in the heart of the Las Vegas Strip, spans 4.5 acres with luxurious amenities.
There are grand fountains, four high-end restaurants, two large casinos, a fitness spa center, a shopping center, a tennis court, four entertainment centers, and performance halls. Today's match is in the largest entertainment center.
The venue is a massive circular hall, modeled after the Roman Colosseum but scaled down, with hundreds of luxury boxes and over twenty thousand seats. Tickets sold out two weeks before the match, with front-row seats fetching astronomical prices.
Norman spent $20,000 for a third-row seat.
When he entered the circular hall, there were still thirty minutes until the match, and the place was packed. The first, second, and third floors, up to the boxes, were filled with high-class, wealthy spectators.
"Hey, Norman, why are you so late?"
In the front row, he met Ivanka, Paris, Amanda, Robert Hearst, Donald Jr., and Ohio tycoon Mark Vicknes among others.
"Norman, heard you were sick. Feeling better?"
Mark Vicknes joked.
Hearing this, familiar faces around laughed.
"Fuck you!"
Norman cursed with a clenched fist.
"No, I refuse. I don't want to get infected."
Mark covered his butt and said.
"Hahaha~"
The surrounding people laughed even louder.
"Do you want to get punched?!"
Norman was furious and almost started a fight.
"Norman, it's not your match today. Don't start a fight."
Robert and Donald Jr. pulled him back.
"Hmph!"
Norman retracted his fist and sat down sulkily.
"Hey, Norman!"
Ivanka, sitting in the back row, poked his shoulder. "Is Richard's leg injury healed?"
"Healed long ago. That guy started training two days after the injury and was messing around with three hot chicks last night. No issues at all."
Norman smirked and casually lied.
"Three hot chicks?"
"Richard was with three girls last night?"
"Really?"
Ivanka, Paris, and Amanda were curious.
Norman's eyes twinkled. Richard smeared me first, so don't blame me for not being polite.
"Yes, Richard is a total jerk. He loves messing around. Didn't you see the news saying he often hangs out with three models these days?"
"Yes, it's Gisele, Angela, and Ann. They're just friends."
Ivanka, now a model at Elite Model Management, had met Gisele and the others many times.
"Heh, you don't think they're just friends, do you?"
Norman chuckled.
"Are they all Richard's girlfriends?"
Paris blinked.
"Yes, as far as I know, they live together and are very, very close."
Norman chuckled lightly.
"Jerk! I used to think he was great, no scandals, didn't date around. I thought he was a faithful guy. Turns out he's a jerk too."
Amanda, the eldest of the three, said disappointedly.
"Yes, Richard is a jerk. He has more girlfriends in L.A.
A girl in our company, only 17, very pretty, Richard often harasses her. If I hadn't stopped him, he might have ended up in jail."
Norman shook his head, looking pained.
"Really?"
Ivanka blinked at him.
"Yes, the girl is Jessica, a new actress."
"Heh, I don't believe it. Richard has been in New York for the past six months. How could he often harass that girl? And you stopping him? Haha, that's a joke. With your character, could you do such a thing?"
Ivanka sneered.
"I don't believe it either. With Richard's status, if he wanted the girl, he wouldn't need to harass her. A simple invitation, and which girl would refuse to date him?"
Paris shook her head.
"Norman, Richard considers you a friend, and you slander him here. What kind of person are you..."
Ivanka folded her arms and leaned back, not wanting to talk to him anymore.
"Terrible character."
Paris also distanced herself, folding her arms.
"Norman, we're all friends. Why do this? It's disappointing."
Amanda sighed in disappointment.
Norman's face flushed with complexity. In such a short time, his reputation was nearly ruined. If he had known, he wouldn't have framed Richard.
"Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to the WBA/WBC Light Heavyweight Championship unification match at Caesars Palace, Las Vegas. Now, let's welcome WBA Light Heavyweight Champion Roy Jones!!"
The match was about to start, and the boxers began to enter. Roy Jones, wearing black shorts, had a gleaming gold championship belt, the WBA title.
Roy Jones bounced towards the ring with his team.
"Next, let's welcome WBC Light Heavyweight Champion Richard Brad!!"
Amid the host's shouts, Richard appeared in the tunnel.
Wearing red shorts, also with a gleaming gold belt, the WBC title, he was accompanied by Alvin, Paul, and new team members.
"Hey, Richard, good luck!"
Many familiar faces in the crowd cheered, as the venue was near L.A., attracting many celebrity friends like Gwyneth, Angelina, Keanu Reeves, Jude Law, Woody Allen, and more.
"Hey, Richard, you seem unmotivated!"
Director Woody Allen shouted.
"The motivation is here!"
Richard pounded his chest and smiled.
"Good luck, I'm a fan!"
Woody Allen laughed.
Richard waved his fist and continued to the ring.
Looking at Roy Jones below the ring, his feelings were mixed.
The situation had evolved, making the match more complex and challenging.
The challenge wasn't just the opponent but making the fight exciting and winning with style.
Without the recent shooting incident, he could have stuck to the plan: lure Roy Jones into an offensive, drive up the pace, and KO him mid-match for a perfect finish.
But the shooting incident brought media scrutiny, making such a strategy seem unscrupulous.
"Richard, you won again!"
Roy Jones approached coldly.
"Of course, victory is always mine."
Richard said softly.
"Hmph, relying on deceit and Don King's support? Congrats, you've achieved your goal. Beat me, and you'll be the top light heavyweight. But I'll never admit you're better."
Roy Jones snorted, handed over his belt, and stepped into the ring.
"Richard, don't listen to him. He's trying to undermine your resolve. This match, you must win, no matter what. Even a controversial victory is better than a perfect defeat."
Alvin patted his shoulder.
"I understand!"
Richard nodded.
"Richard, be serious. According to our intel, those reports accusing you of orchestrating the shooting are mostly from Roy Jones' management. They're creating noise to pressure you.
This isn't just a match; it's psychological and media warfare. You must take it seriously, or we'll all lose."
Anthony said.
"Don't worry, I won't lose."
Richard smiled and headed to the ring.
"Richard, for the $10 million prize, go for it!"
Paul shouted.
"OK!"
Richard raised his fist and strode onto the ring.
Ding ding ding~
The match began.
——
(End of Chapter)
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