Domination in America, Starting from being a Boxing Champion

"Link, get down!"

Mario swung his furious fists, smashing toward Link's face.

This punch contained not only his 800 pounds of power but also the grievances and frustration he had suffered during this period.

Bang!

1.3 seconds later.

Mario heavily fell onto the Boxing ring covered with hard rubber mats, stirring up a cloud of dust.

"Wow!"

Around him, a burst of astonishment arose. Just having seen Mario enter the ring with ferocity, they had expected an evenly matched fight. However, just as Mario had swung his fist without even touching Link, he was struck in the face by a rear hook punch from Link.

It was almost the same process as the last time Mario was knocked out.

The difference was that this time, Mario took two more steps backward, his back hitting the ropes, rebounding off them, unable to stand, and then he collapsed onto the ring.

"Again with this move! Always this move!"

Mario lay on the Boxing ring, looking up at the overhead lights, his face filled with sorrow.

Right before the match with Link, he thought only of using his strength and sturdy body to fight Link for twelve rounds, completely forgetting Link's killer rear hook punch and not thinking of defending.

The result was even faster than the first defeat.

He angrily pounded the floor, sat up, and furiously glared at Link, "Why always use this move? Don't you know any other techniques?"

"Because it works well."

Link responded calmly.

This counterattack move, simple and old-fashioned, was very practical.

It was perfect against a boxer like Mario, who was slow, had average reflexes, and mediocre technique.

"Despicable! Link, we agreed that this was a sparring session, not a match. You were not supposed to use rear hook punches or other finishing moves. We were just supposed to rely on strength and physicality, like ancient Roman gladiators, clashing head-on. Do you dare to try that?"

Mario roared, pounding his chest.

"Bring it on!"

The sparring continued.

Mario roared angrily, swinging both fists, charging at Link like a madman.

Right straight punch - left swing punches - right straight punch - left uppercut, each punch thrown with all his strength. His two robust arms swung like thick clubs.

He believed that if he could land even one punch on Link, he might score a knock-out, especially since Link was not wearing any protective gear.

But damn it, Link's evasion speed was just too quick—sliding step, turning step, bowing step, Ali's butterfly step, each move executed very skillfully.

When Boxing on the ring, it was more like dancing in a ballroom.

One second ago, Mario saw him just 0.5 meters in front, a punch away from being downed, but by the time his fist reached there, Link's body had already agilely dodged, and somehow his swing punch had already swept through, solidly hitting his own head.

But Link didn't use much force, just tapped and then withdrew.

Mario threw 32 punches continuously, none hitting Link, while his own head was tapped by Link 21 times in succession.

21 times!

That's twenty-one punches.

Mario was about to explode with anger. If Link had knocked him out with one punch, he could accept that, but Link never struck fatally, only tapped on his head each time, like an adult toying with a child.

Mario felt as if he were being pounded with tons of blows.

After several more punches missed, his head was knocked a few more times. Completely enraged, he disregarded the rules, extended his arms, and tightly embraced Link, attempting to throw him down on the boxing ring and pin him to the ground to vent his fury with a few punches.

"Mario, what are you doing?!" Read latest stories on empire

West shouted angrily.

Mario ignored him, roared, and wrapped his arms around Link's waist, trying to use a WWE-style body slam to lift Link and smash him to the ground.

He believed that with his strength and size, he could definitely do it.

At any rate, he wanted to make Link embarrass himself in public.

But as he forcefully embraced Link, no matter how much strength he used, Link's legs remained firmly planted on the boxing ring, like a pillar, impossible to lift. He looked up in surprise and saw a strange smile on Link's face.

This smile sent a chill down his spine. Just as he thought about letting go, he suddenly felt weightless, and with a cry, he was spun around by Link who grabbed his waistband and nape, and then the world spun before he was slammed onto the boxing platform, his body bouncing up slightly and his belly quivering.

"Wow!"

A burst of exclamations followed.

The apprentices were dazzled by the wrestling move Link had suddenly executed. They hadn't expected that besides boxing, Link was also extremely good at fighting, so formidable that the nearly 100-kilogram Mario looked like a large-sized rag doll in his hands.

Everyone gazed at Link with glowing eyes, seeing him as a peerless master, feeling an impulse to kneel down and call him master.

Link smiled faintly. In his days in the underground boxing scene, relying on just boxing was hard for survival, so he also learned some wrestling, combat, and Muay Thai techniques. Mario's attempted slam was child's play in his eyes.

Clap, clap, clap!

Clap, clap, clap!

A series of crisp applause came from the passageway.

The apprentices turned their heads in surprise.

Walking down the corridor were several people: Mantishand Andzeje Methodra, Dreadlock Mario Morales, Littlehead Jones Fullos, and Andrea Berto, accompanied by Manager Robinson, who was guiding the group.

Like Link, they had been drafted by the Sports Committee and Boxing Association and would represent the super middleweight boxers to compete for the remaining two slots at the Han Jing Olympics.

Havana, across the Florida Straits, is 358 kilometers from Miami; a plane ride takes only half an hour.

Thus, most athletes coming for the qualifiers first flew to Miami to handle their entry and exit procedures before taking a ship or plane to Cuba, as did the group of four.

This was also the reason for their presence here.

"Hey, Link, I didn't know you could wrestle too. That's awesome,"

Mantishand Andzeje gesticulated with his long arms.

"Link, that move just now was so cool. Was it the 'Invincible Spin' from Street Fighter?"

Dreadlock Morales shouted.

Link laughed heartily, jumped down from the boxing ring, and bumped fists with the four.

They had been opponents before but now were teammates. The qualifiers were about to start. In the next few days, they needed to unite against opponents from 34 other countries, trying to secure the remaining two slots.

Infighting was unnecessary.

Not to mention, with Link as an amateur elite, the United States team had an extra edge.

Andzeje, Morales, and Jones Fullos responded to Link warmly, like long-lost friends, not minding at all the beating they got on the boxing ring—it was all part of the sport.

Only Andrea Berto, when greeted by Link, did not hide the resentment on his face, glaring at him with stark, contrasting eyes, obviously still not over being duped by Link that day.

Link laughed heartily, not minding the slight, and invited the group for tea to discuss the upcoming matches the day after tomorrow.