A light rain fell outside, but the air conditioner kept the apartment warm and cozy.
Link and Taylor sat on the sofa as he shared his life story â€" from a two-time jailbird to a world-renowned boxing champion. It was an inspiring and moving tale, but only he knew the truth behind it.
Without time travel, Link would have died in a street fight, and he himself would have perished in an underground boxing ring.
Three months ago, a miracle occurred. The soul of a fighter was transplanted into a young body, given a bit of talent, and life took a dramatic turn. It was like two ordinary plants, grafted together and nourished by rain, suddenly blooming with dazzling flowers that amazed the world.
As Link recounted his story to Taylor, he also reflected on his past. From boxing bars to the Beijing Olympics, he had seized every opportunity, step by step, to reach where he was now.
He was doing well, but he couldn't slack off. The path of professional boxing was even more challenging than amateur boxing. He had to work harder to continue creating miracles and live up to this extraordinary encounter.
"I think besides persistence and hard work, luck is also very important, and I happen to be a very lucky guy," Link concluded his story.
Clap, clap, clap! Taylor applauded, wiping her eyes. "Link, your story is so wonderful and touching. You could write an autobiography and share your experiences. I'm sure many people would love to read it."
Taylor had been moved to tears twice, and a pile of tissues lay damp beside her.
An autobiography? Link shook his head. He didn't think it was a good idea. There were too many flaws in his story, too many things that wouldn't stand up to scrutiny. Writing an autobiography now and exposing himself to the scrutiny of millions was too risky.
"Maybe later. I'm still young. Compared to those old guys, our life experiences are nothing."
"No, I think it's wonderful. The stories of those old guys are too preachy and don't fit the times. But your story is just right, like the soup you made, it suits my taste perfectly."
"I'll make you soup again next time."
Link smiled, checking his phone. It was 10 am, time to go to the gym for training. He asked Taylor if she wanted to come along, or if she preferred to stay and work on her new song.
Taylor chose the latter. It was raining, and the balcony here was more atmospheric than the floor-to-ceiling windows in her hotel. Writing songs while watching the rain here would be more inspiring.
Link readily agreed. Having someone at home made him look forward to returning in the afternoon.
He gave Taylor a few instructions, grabbed his training bag, and drove to the boxing gym on 34th Street in Queens.
This was one of the training facilities owned by a major event promotion company and also served as a temporary training ground for Dynasty Promotions, who had paid $200,000 for the privilege.
The facility was quite large and well-equipped, with a gym, medical and physiotherapy center, showers, a nutrition restaurant for boxers, and more.
In the past, famous boxers from the 80s and 90s like Evander Holyfield, Riddick Bowe, Hector Camacho, Michael Moorer, and Andrew Golota had trained here, accounting for almost a third of the champions from that era. It was truly a cradle of champions.
But as Lou Duva aged, so did the champions he had selected and trained.
The only active boxers left were former world champion Holyfield, former WBC International Heavyweight Champion David Tua, former WBA-WBC-IBF Welterweight Champion Zab Judah, and a few others. The rest were mostly unknown newcomers.
When Link walked into the gym with his backpack, someone shouted, "The champion is here!" Everyone stopped training and turned to look at the entrance.
Link looked at the crowd â€" over forty men, all muscular and strong, from super heavyweight to lightweight, mostly dark-skinned. It was like a gladiator training camp.
"Hi, good morning gentlemen. No need for a welcome, please continue your training," Link said, waving.
The boxers murmured among themselves, some with admiration, some with envy, some eager to spar.
Since the show "Watch Boxing with the Champion" aired, everyone knew his punches were as heavy as a heavyweight champion's, but he was also fast, skilled, and intelligent.
In its September issue, "The Ring" magazine featured him on the cover, calling him a natural boxer and predicting that he could rank among the top three in the P4P super middleweight rankings after turning professional this year.
These comments had given Link an aura of strength.
The boxing world was even more brutal and direct than other circles. The strong could earn hundreds of millions in minutes, while the weak earned less than miners.
Strength meant wealth and a difference in class.
Even those who wanted to chat with him would hesitate.
This disparity was also evident in training.
The training areas for the boxers here varied. The strong had their own private spaces with good lighting, ventilation, a full coaching and medical team, and even more attractive masseuses.
Ordinary boxers and newcomers could only train in the public area.
"Link, you're here. Your training area is this way," Simon, the assistant, greeted him from the aisle.
Beside him was a thin white man, about 180 centimeters tall, with a long face, shoulder-length hair, and arms covered in tattoos, including three Chinese characters that Link couldn't decipher.
"Hey, you're Link Baker? I'm a welterweight boxer. How about we spar?" the tattooed man shouted.
Link looked at Simon, who smiled and said, "This is Dino Duva, a boxing enthusiast."
Dino Duva was Franco's younger brother. Link hadn't expected him to look like this. He had seen Dino's photos in the news before, wearing a suit and looking quite decent. But now, he didn't seem so decent.
"Hey, Link, how about we spar? Let me see how big the gap is between me and a world champion," Dino said, rubbing his fists.
Simon said, "Don't be silly, Dino. Even world champion Altayev was knocked down by Link. You'll get killed."
"We won't know until we try, Link. Come on, let me experience the power of your punches, see if you can KO me," Dino said, slapping his forehead.
Link glanced at him, thinking this guy must have something wrong with his brain. Why else would he be asking to be KO'd?
He shook his head and walked into a private training area.
According to Simon, the training area next door belonged to 'Little Tyson' David Tua, a 36-year-old New Zealand boxer and WBC Heavyweight International Champion who had defeated Chris Byrd, Hasim Rahman, and other champions. Unfortunately, he had never won a world title and was known as the 'Uncrowned King.' But he was currently training in New Zealand, preparing to challenge for the WBC Heavyweight World Championship, so he wasn't at the gym.
"Hey, Link, good to see you again," Morales jumped off the boxing ring, sweating profusely, and opened his arms.
Link laughed and hugged him. He was quite satisfied with this comrade and sparring partner.
"Good morning, Link. From today on, I'm your boxing coach. This is Tubbs, and this is Curry. They're also your sparring partners."
There were three black men under the ring. The speaker was a middle-aged black man in his forties, with messy gray curly hair and a blue tracksuit.
Link recognized him. This was Tommy Brooks, Lou Duva's eldest son-in-law and a core figure in the main event training camp.
In the early 90s, he had coached Holyfield for five years. In Holyfield's two fights against Tyson, he had formulated the tactics on-site, helping Holyfield defeat Tyson twice.
In 2000, he had also coached Tyson, helping him adjust his state and achieve four consecutive victories.
He had publicly commented on the three champions Tyson, Lewis, and Holyfield, saying that Tyson's talent was unmatched and far superior to the latter two, but Tyson lacked self-discipline and needed a lot of effort to focus on training and competition, which was where he fell short compared to the other two. Tyson's career was ruined by this.
He had also coached over 20 top boxers, including the Klitschko brothers, and had been named one of the top ten boxing coaches by "The Ring" magazine for three consecutive years.
"Hello, Mr. Brooks. Please guide me well in the future," Link shook his hand.
"Haha, Link, I've heard a lot about you. You're already excellent, and it's my honor to guide you. In the upcoming training, I may offer a lot of advice. I hope you won't find me too wordy," Tommy Brooks laughed.
"Tommy, you know you're wordy. I don't think this proud guy Link can stand you," Dino Duva said from the doorway.
"Shut up, Dino!" Brooks glared at him and then smiled at Link. "How about we try it out first?"
"Okay!"
Link originally wanted to call Coach West and the others, but the distance was too far. Coach West was getting old and had dozens of students and apprentices under his wing, leaving him with little spare time.
As for his contract with Coach West, Franco had intended to buy it out for a million dollars.
However, Coach West refused the money, saying that as long as Link performed well in matches, won more honors, and ideally secured a world championship title, it would be the best reward for the gym.
For West, honor was more important than money.
During his time at West's gym, Link had won the Golden Gloves championship, the Americas qualifier championship, and the Olympic championship. In news reports about him, his coach was always mentioned as the former boxer West Corrian.
According to Reggie, West was now always smiling and in high spirits.
After changing into his training gear and warming up in the equipment area, Link began his day's training under Brooks' guidance.
(End of Chapter)