LRAB Page 65
Page 65
Victor clenched his fist.
He knew Michael was right, but he always had doubts about the future. Whether he could do it or not is something every man doubts yet is so confident as to be unquestionable.
"Let's do another set of squats, and then we'll practice dodging."
Michael interrupted his reminiscence, "Nelson is faster than you, but your strength far surpasses his. Just seize one opportunity..."
Viktor nodded and hoisted the barbell onto his broad shoulders.
With each squat, he could feel the muscle fibers tearing and regenerating.
Sweat streamed down his forehead, stinging his eyes, but he didn't stop. The boy who used to struggle even with defecation had become a powerful figure capable of lifting a 300-kilogram barbell for sets.
"The last group!"
Michael shouted, "Imagine that's Nelson's head!"
Victor let out a low growl, his thigh muscles tensing like steel.
Just then, the gym door was suddenly pushed open.
"problem occurs!"
Ethan burst in, clutching a newspaper, his face pale. "That bastard Max Wilson from ESPN wrote a story about Victor!"
Michael took the newspaper, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper.
Viktor put down the barbell, his heart suddenly pounding—not because of training, but because of some ominous premonition.
Max, who followed him in, glanced around angrily and said, "Let's talk in the room!"
Back in the room, everyone was there.
Max's face turned ashen.
The men were furious!
"Providing sexual services to rich women?"
Michael read the headline aloud, his voice filled with disbelief, "What the hell is this? The Chicago Police Department isn't even investigating this anymore, so who leaked this information?!"
Viktor felt his blood freeze instantly.
He snatched the newspaper, his thick fingers almost tearing the paper.
The article included a photo of him in front of the Chicago Police Department last year, with the headline boldly proclaiming:
Scandalous Fighter Emerges at U.S. Championships: Obese Boxer Arrested for 'Special Services'
"damn thing!"
Victor's voice trembled with anger, "The Chicago Police Department said they wouldn't pursue this matter!"
Max's worldview had been shattered. Pointing at Victor, he asked, "Is this true?"
Victor glanced at Max: "When you said this the day before yesterday, I thought you already knew."
Max took a step back, looking utterly disgusted: "You're only nineteen! And you've already done this!"
Viktor didn't care: "Making money isn't shameful."
"That's terrifying!"
Max frowned and said with disdain, "If that's true, you'll never make any money!"
"What's the problem?"
Old Jack thought it was no big deal: "Those rich women's men died, not the men who went to the battlefield! When we came back from four years of war, every single one of our wives was heavily pregnant."
"Shut up, old Jack!"
Foucault changed the subject: "The key now is that by 2 p.m. at the latest, the USA Boxing Association will definitely send someone to inquire! If we don't have enough evidence to prove that this is slander, we could very well be disqualified!"
Max snapped out of his daze: "How's the situation now?"
Ethan bit his lip: "The problem is that this is the talk of the entire stadium right now. I just got back from the organizing committee, and at least twenty reporters are asking about your 'story'."
Michael slammed his fist on the sandbag: "That Wilson is the ESPN reporter you refused to interview last week. He's getting revenge!"
Viktor felt a wave of dizziness.
He recalled how last week in Chicago, a reporter with slicked-back hair and an expensive suit tried to interview him in a disdainful tone—"Victor, as a... uh, a wrestler with a special physique, do you think you've managed to survive the first round of the national tournament after winning the regional championship?"
At that time, Viktor simply refused rudely and walked away in silence.
Looking back now—I really should have given him a good whack!
Where did he get the information?
Viktor, in a fit of rage, declared: "Why don't we get someone to kill him!"
Chapter 53 Hello, Ubelman
Max stopped Victor's dangerous thoughts: "Kill him? Kill who? The reporter or the whistleblower? This kind of thing can't be kept secret!"
Victor looked at her: "What do you suggest we do?"
"I need to know the whole story."
Max looked at everyone and said, "After all, I'm the only one here who doesn't know."
Victor remained silent, and Michael eventually told the story.
"Hehehe!"
After listening, Max sneered, "All I can say is that the person who handled this was an idiot! A moron! They left behind so much evidence! Is there anything else they didn't say?"
Victor shook his head: "No more."
I didn't ask you!
Max looked around, and everyone shook their heads before he began to make the arrangements:
"Alright, I have a few things I need you to take charge of."
Foucault stepped forward: "You can state your plan!"
"The most urgent task is to have a sufficiently authoritative department clarify this matter!"
Max took over the reins: "It's 10:20 a.m. now, and the best evidence to clarify things is naturally the Chicago Police Department's statement."
Foucault and old Jack exchanged a glance: "We can get it in two hours, but we need a fax machine."
"That's not a problem, the hotel has it, you can communicate with them yourselves! But please note that it's best to have the hotel staff deliver this."
Max's thinking was perfect: "It would be best to have them deliver it to the reporters for us."
Old Jack and Foucault exchanged a glance: "No problem."
Max continued, "Secondly, who can contact Franky?"
Ethan and Michael raised their hands.
Max turned to Victor: "This is a critical moment. The gang must not interfere! Neither the journalists nor the whistleblowers can die because of you!"
"So you're just going to let that son of a bitch Max Wilson get away with it?"
Michael retorted, "At least break one of his legs!"
Ethan nodded: "Three legs!"
"Shut up! ESPN is the world's largest sports television network, with over 2.1 million viewers worldwide. You fucking want to kill their reporter? Do you think Victor isn't dead fast enough?"
Max turned to Victor and said, "Keep an eye on those two idiots. They're not allowed to speak in front of reporters for the next few days!"
Victor glanced at the two brothers and nodded.
Max turned to Foucault: "What are you two waiting for? Go get the Chicago Police Department to clarify this! Do you expect me to tell you 'go go go... move it! move it! move it!'?"
Foucault blushed and immediately started making phone calls—using a landline.
Max continued firing: "Victor, who can order Franky to give up revenge?"
"Third Master (Siri), or Uncle Old Joe."
Victor couldn't understand this at all. "Franky, or rather, Third Master, won't help me. They won't..."
Max waved his hand to interrupt: "They will definitely make a move, label you as having a gang background, and then you'll never be able to escape it for the rest of your life!"
Viktor fell into thought. He wasn't stupid; now that he'd been enlightened, he understood.
"Then even Uncle Qiao can't persuade Third Master, so there's only one person left!"
Michael understood instantly and blurted out, "Ubelman!"
Max asked in surprise, "You know members of Congress?"
Ethan nodded: "We can persuade him to suppress Third Master."
Max questioned, "We need to be here before 2:30 p.m.!"
Victor had an idea: "Michael, ask Old Joe to send a gift to Congressman Ubelman and ask him to help persuade the Chicago Police Department and the Third Master of the Green Dragon Society."
"no problem!"
Michael picked up the cell phone and started dialing.
Foucault had just finished making the call when he turned to Max and asked, "What about me?"
Max shook his head: "You don't need to make the call!"
“This is Joe Michael. You’d better have something important to say, or you’ll have to pay my long-distance call charges.”
“Viktor is in trouble. Someone has brought up his past as a gigolo, and now the USA Boxing Association is questioning Viktor’s eligibility to compete. We need to help him.”
Old Joe regretted that he shouldn't have sent Victor to someone else's bed for five hundred dollars—damn, who could resist that?
"how should I do?"
"You need to go to our apartment immediately, open the safe (the code is 39527), take out a stack of photos—developed photos, don't touch the negatives—then go to the government building and find Congressman Ubelman. Give his secretary a photo of Veronica and Ubelman together, and you can then meet Ubelman."
"What should I say?"
“Tell Ubelman that he needs to be here by noon…”
It is 10:40 a.m. now.