Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion

Chapter 069 The Second Champion

"Go Aragon!"

"Aragon, kill that damn American!"

In the stands, the Cuban audience shouted loudly, their voices filled with anger and complaint, unlike the casual ease before the match, for they could also see that Aragon might lose to that damn American.

Their voices also conveyed disappointment with Aragon.

In the ring, Link looked at Aragon walking towards him, his fists clenched, his muscles taut all over, new sweat beading on his dark skin, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth, and his left cheekbone swollen and red -- it looked bad.

Link knew his condition was not much better than his opponent's, especially since the strain on his right arm was affecting his power, making it difficult to continue attacking with both fists.

But no matter how hard it was, he had to KO Aragon in this round.

To successfully KO the Olympic Gold Medal seed and elite of the elites, Aragon, would not only secure the Super Middleweight championship of the Americas Zone but also offer a tremendous boost in experience and mindset, benefits Link did not want to miss out on.

What he needed to consider now was how to entirely knock down Aragon, who was down to less than half health.

Link thought for a moment, then said to Aragon, "Aragon, you should know that you've already lost with the match coming to this point. Even with your full defense, you can't change the outcome, but you can choose how to play the last round. You can either continue to defend, hide and run like a coward;

or fight like a warrior with all the anger, strength, courage, and will left in you and launch your final assault at me. Perhaps there's still a slim chance to turn defeat into victory. Even if you don't win in the end, you will fall nobly like a martyr, not get beaten brutally by me like a coward.

Aragon, it's your choice to be a coward or a martyr. I'll give you a chance," Link said seriously.

"I haven't lost yet!"

Aragon gritted his teeth.

"You're in no shape to win. I could beat you with one arm," Link said blandly as he waved his left fist.

Aragon glowered at him angrily, his fist trembling non-stop.

"Kill!!"

Suddenly, Aragon roared, his dark complexion gradually turning dark red as he fiercely threw his fist towards Link.

Link's eyebrows raised, and with an angry shout, he met Aragon's charge with his left fist.

—

"Wow!"

The audience on the spot could not help exclaiming in surprise when they saw the two clashing again.

Both were injured, drenched in sweat, staggering in their steps. At times like these, ordinary people would choose to defend, but not only did they not guard, they dared to keep attacking vigorously, a tenacity and ferocity that earned everyone's respect.

"Go Aragon!"

The Cuban audience rose to their feet, shouting loudly and punching the air, and although they knew Aragon was likely to lose, seeing him fight valiantly in the final moments and charge at that damn American made them cheer for him uncontrollably.

"Hang in there, Link!"

"Link, champion!"

James waved the flag, leading a group of people in shouting loudly. Despite their hoarse throats, every time Link threw a punch, they would shout cheerfully as if providing a musical accompaniment for Link.

"Dad, can Link win fighting like this?"

Taylor clenched his fists, anxiously watching the boxing ring. Seeing Link holding up his right arm in defense and only attacking Aragon with his left, Taylor and everyone else could see that Link's right arm might be injured.

"It's okay, Aragon is in worse shape than he is, and Link knocked Aragon down three times in the first three rounds, causing his opponent to take three counts. As long as he hangs in there and withstands Aragon's attack, he has a great chance of winning."

Mr. Swift was also looking at the boxing ring with a flushed face, watching the two exchange offense and defense without daring to blink, fearing he might miss the most exciting part of the match if he blinked.

"What if Link doesn't hang in there? Could he lose?"

Next door, Selena blinked her large eyes and clenched her fists in front of her chest, nervously watching the bout on stage, listening to the commentary of 'Mr. Wheelchair'.

"Link should be able to hang in there, wow!"

Mr. Swift stiffened and let out a cry of alarm as Aragon suddenly roared and landed a punch on Link's forehead. Link stepped back three times, his back slamming into the ropes, almost falling over.

"Come on, Aragon!"

"Aragon, counterattack now!"

The Cuban audience also shouted excitedly, some swinging hammers and beating large crocodile-skin drums.

The atmosphere at the scene suddenly became valiant and impassioned.

Aragon did not disappoint the expectations of the Cubans, summoning his last strength to throw a series of punches at Link, who was leaning against the ropes. The battle became tense and fierce.

"There's only 50 seconds left in the match, is Aragon going to stage a comeback?"

"I get it now, Aragon pretended to be weak in the first three rounds, making Link let down his guard, then burst out in the last round for a successful comeback. That's a good strategy, Aragon really is the elite among elites."

"That's probably Saliwon's strategy; after all, Saliwon is a three-time Olympic gold medalist."

In the spectator seats, promoters like Dmitry Salita also held binoculars, nervously watching the fight in the ring. The match was so fierce that even those outside the ring were swept up in the atmosphere, anxiously wondering who would come out on top.

"Link is still too young, lacking in match experience. With a couple more years of honing, he might have a chance to beat Aragon."

Greg Cohen shook his head.

The other promoters nodded in agreement. Aragon was 25, Link 20, a five-year difference. But thinking of how a 20-year-old Link could nearly match a 25-year-old Aragon, they all thought Link was really impressive.

"Wow!!!"

Suddenly, a loud, unified gasp erupted from the crowd, with even the promoters unable to help but cry out in surprise, and the drumming at the scene also suddenly stopped at this moment.

The crowd looked towards the boxing ring in shock, some not daring to believe their own eyes.

10 seconds earlier, on the boxing ring.

Link panted heavily, looking at Aragon across from him. After more than a minute of fierce fighting, both had greatly expended their physical and mental energy.

Aragon stood on the stage, his eyes half-closed, his body swaying left and right, the frequency of his punches dropping sharply, and the strength decreasing to below 500 pounds, with hardly any lethality.

Link knew the time had come; he took a deep breath, his right arm in front, swinging his left fist towards Aragon. Aragon blocked his punch with his right arm and swung his left fist at Link's face.

"Link, be careful!"

Coach Ed bellowed from below the stage.

"Careful!!"

A sudden shout also erupted from the opposite corner.

Aragon didn't understand why Sawn was yelling careful; Link's left punch had been parried, and his own injured right arm was in front of him—what did he need to be careful about at this moment?

Aragon saw his punch about to strike Link's face, excitement surging in his heart—if it landed solidly, he'd have a good chance of knocking Link down or even achieving a complete knockout, winning the match and becoming the champion of the Americas Zone, a Cuban boxing star.

Suddenly, he realized that Link's right hand, which was usually guarding his chest, was gone. He felt a rush of alarm, only to hear the whooshing sound by his ear, as a ferocious red fist pummeled towards him.

Rear Hook Punch!!!

Aragon's eyes widened as if they were about to split; he swung his fist at Link, believing if he could hit him first, there was still a chance.

Thud!

Before he could think further, Link's rear hook punch, delayed yet swift, hammered his side face with ferocious speed and force, like a siege hammer viciously crashing down.

Aragon's face distorted dramatically, sweat, tears, and saliva flying off, his head pulling his upper body, which in turn dragged his legs as he fell heavily towards the right side of the ring.

Thump!

Link also staggered from Aragon's punch, sitting on the boxing stage.

Wow!

The crowd let out a gasp of astonishment.

"Wow! What a punch, that's unbelievable, Link's right hand can actually move, he must have done it on purpose, it was his tactic. He was taking hits from Aragon just to find a chance to throw that last punch, Link is amazing."

On the second floor of the spectator seats, Mr. Swift waved his fist and shouted excitedly.

Taylor also screamed excitedly, then turned her head in surprise, looking up and down at Mr. Swift, exclaiming, "Dad, how did you stand up? Is your paralysis cured?"

Mr. Swift looked down at the wheelchair behind him, cursed under his breath for getting too excited and forgetting his ruse, accidentally standing up. He coughed lightly and feigned shock, "Eh, how am I standing? My legs can move too, can my paralysis be cured? Wow, this is unbelievable."

To prove that his paralysis was indeed cured, Mr. Swift stomped on the spot, his legs agile as any healthy person's.

Taylor curled her lip and rushed to congratulate her father, instructing her assistant, Emily, to call Mrs. Andrea to inform her of the good news.

Next door, Selena Gomez stared with her round eyes at the 'Wheelchair Gentleman', her shock a hundred times stronger than that of the father and daughter. Watching a boxing match could cure paralysis? Seriously?

She gripped the arm of her Aunt Catherine beside her, saying excitedly, "Catherine, look, the Wheelchair Gentleman is standing up! Just now, when he saw Link knock down Aragon with one punch, he suddenly stood up, and he can walk on his legs too, don't you think it's magical?"

Catherine glanced at the Wheelchair Gentleman, nodded, commented on the magic, and then turned back to the boxing ring.

On the boxing stage, Link held his throbbing right arm and slowly stood up.

Not far away, Aragon lay on his side on the stage, while the referee crouched beside him, beginning to count seconds. Many Cuban spectators were still shouting, "Aragon, stand up," "Aragon, keep fighting."

But Aragon did not move an inch.

Link didn't know if Aragon had passed out, but it didn't matter. There were 50 seconds left. Aragon's stamina, strength, and fighting spirit had been depleted in his last offensive. Even if he could get up, Link was confident he could knock him down again.

Under the current circumstances, he had all the aces; how could he lose?

"...3, 2, 1!"

The referee finished the ten count; Aragon hadn't managed to rise. The venue fell silent for a second or two, and then the spectator seats erupted into a round of warm applause, even many Cubans among them clapping.

This match, even though Aragon lost, was lost on a path of charge, full of determination and intensity, and not from curling up in defense, passively getting beaten.

In the hearts of the combative Cuban people, it was a fierce confrontation. Aragon had fought with all his might, ultimately falling in the ring, but with honor.

Therefore, the words spoken by Link to Aragon at the end were not all tactics; he also wanted to give his opponent dignity.

"Link, you won! You defeated Aragon, you are the champion!"

Morales, Andzeje, and the boxing team along with the coaching staff excitedly shouted from below the stage.

"Link!"

Fat James waved a red flag and shouted from the second-floor railing.

"Champion!!"

Behind him, more than a hundred people stood up and shouted in unison.

"Link! Champion!"

Taylor, Mr. Swift, Selena, Catherine, Franco Duvall, Reggie, and others stood up and also shouted loudly.

"Link, Champion!"

Thousands of European and American tourists and boxers present at the venue clapped their hands and shouted for Link, the champion.

"Link, Champion! Link, Champion!"

The voices in the venue gradually became uniform.

Link stood on the boxing stage, removed his sweaty headgear, faced the spectator seats, and raised his left arm high.

His tall, strong build, solid arms, a resolute silhouette, standing tall on the boxing stage.

Click!

Miami Herald reporter Simmons pressed the shutter against his silhouette, capturing this striking moment on film and imprinting it on the newspaper.

He thought in the near future, people all across the Americas would see this photo and hear a name—the champion of the Americas Zone Olympic qualifiers—Link Baker!