RNP Page 240
Page 240
In the stands, thousands of boxing fans held their breath in suspense.
Those longtime boxing fans who had followed Louis for twenty years clasped their hands together and prayed silently.
The younger generation cheered for Victor's bravery.
Ali was so excited that he danced with joy.
Victor's fist slammed into Luis's defense like a hammer blow. Most of the impact was blocked, but the force still traveled through the veteran's body via his arm.
Louis felt his arm gradually go numb, and each blow caused excruciating pain in his ribs, making it increasingly difficult for him to breathe.
"That's it! Wear him down! Deplete his strength!"
Ethan shouted from the sidelines, his fists clenched.
Louis peered through the gaps in the defense, his eyes sharp as those of a seasoned hunter.
His years of experience on the field have enabled him to remain calm even when he is at a severe disadvantage.
He noticed one of Viktor's habits:
After each four-hit combo, there is always a slight pause, as if showing off his dominance.
Just then, Viktor's left hook missed, exposing an opening on his right side!
This opening was fleeting, but it was enough for a veteran like Luis.
The veteran erupted instantly, delivering a precise right straight punch that pierced through Viktor's defense and struck him squarely in the chin!
The crisp sound of the impact echoed through the stadium!
The entire audience gasped in surprise, and almost everyone stood up!
That punch was clear and powerful!
Viktor's head snapped back, his whole body swayed, and his knees bent slightly—but he didn't fall!
Instead, after regaining his balance, he revealed a ferocious smile!
"Haven't you eaten, old man?"
Viktor scoffed, then launched an even fiercer counterattack, as if the punch had only provoked him.
Louis's heart sank—it was his best attack, which he had been preparing for a long time, and he had used almost all of his remaining strength, but it had no effect!
With his physical condition declining and his mental state suffering, Luis's defense momentarily relaxed.
His support frame drooped slightly, revealing a sliver of space above his forehead.
For a heavy gunner like Viktor, this gap is enough.
A hellish right straight punch pierced through the defense and landed squarely on Louis's forehead!
The sharp, terrifying sound of the blows echoed through the suddenly silent stadium.
Louis's eyes went unfocused for a moment, and his body stiffened as he fell backward.
His protective arms hung limply, and he fell straight onto the canvas table like a felled tree.
Referee Jack Dunn immediately rushed forward and waved to stop the game, without even needing to count down the seconds—Louis had completely lost consciousness.
"KO! Match over! 2 minutes and 18 seconds into the fourth round! Victor Lee successfully defends his title!"
The commentator's voice rang out, but it was drowned out by the gasps and sighs of the entire audience.
Viktor excitedly jumped onto the boxing ropes and waved his fists at the audience, but his celebration seemed somewhat lonely.
All eyes were on the fallen legend.
The medical team rushed onto the boxing ring.
Louis lay motionless, only the slight rise and fall of his chest indicating that he was still alive.
Miles Davis climbed onto the ring, knelt beside his old friend, tears welling in his eyes.
"Joe? Joe? Can you hear me?"
The doctor examined Louis's pupillary response and nervously conducted a preliminary assessment.
A few minutes later, Louis slowly opened his eyes and looked around at the crowd with a dazed expression.
"it's over?"
He asked in a hoarse voice, trying to get up, but the doctor gently pressed him down.
Miles nodded and gripped the veteran's hand tightly: "It's over, Joe. You played very well."
His voice choked with emotion, and he had to turn his head away to hide his feelings.
As staff carefully helped Louise onto the stretcher, the entire audience stood up and applauded for five minutes.
Many veteran boxing fans were moved to tears, knowing that this was not just the end of a match, but the end of an era.
Victor Lee approached the stretcher and sincerely said to Louis, "You are the toughest opponent I have ever faced. The honor belongs to you, legend."
Louis managed a weak smile, his swollen eyes almost completely closed: "Protect that gold belt well, kid. It represents the dignity of this sport."
When the stretcher was carried out of the boxing ring, Louis had already fainted again, but the applause was still thunderous.
Flashbulbs went off non-stop, capturing what might be the last public moment for this boxing legend.
Miles followed the stretcher toward the ambulance, his mind flashing back to the scene from twenty-five years ago when he first met Louis—a thin boy, sweating profusely in front of a punching bag in a dilapidated gym, his eyes burning with a desire for the future.
"He'll be alright, Miles."
A familiar voice came from behind.
Miles turned around and saw old Jack standing there, his face showing no joy of victory, only the respect between colleagues.
That punch...
Miles shook his head. "Few people can withstand a blow like that and still get back up. Victor is special."
"So is yours."
Old Jack said softly, "At thirty-eight years old, he can still deliver such a precise counterattack. If Viktor's chin had been slightly weaker, he might be the one lying on the stretcher right now with that right straight punch."
The two coaches watched the ambulance drive away silently, seemingly oblivious to the noise and glory in the boxing ring.
At that moment, they were just two ordinary people who were worried about the soldiers.
"Want to go for a drink?"
Old Jack suddenly made the suggestion.
Miles nodded wearily. "I know a quiet place nearby."
They walked out of the stadium side by side, leaving the cheering crowd and flashing lights behind them.
In the brutal yet beautiful sport of boxing, the line between victory and defeat is often blurred, but respect and dignity are eternal.
Inside the ambulance, Louis's fingers twitched slightly.
The medical staff were surprised to find that even in a semi-comatose state, the veteran's fists were still clenched tightly, as if he were still fighting.
Perhaps, the legend will never truly end.
They simply continue to exist in a different form.
Post-match statistics showed that the two fighters exchanged more than 600 punches in four rounds, including more than 300 heavy punches.
Victor Lee's accuracy was 38%, while Louis's was 35%, but Victor clearly had the advantage in effective punches.
At the press conference, Victor Lee, unusually humble, departed from his usual arrogance: "Joe Lewis proved why he is a legend. At 38, nobody believed he could last a round, but he almost pushed me to my limit. The credit belongs to the Brown Bomber."
Medical reports indicate that Louis suffered a mild concussion and multiple bruises on his face, but was otherwise unharmed.
He was discharged from the hospital after two days of recuperation and announced his official retirement: "This is my last dance, and I have no regrets."
Victor Lee continued his reign, completing a nine-time consecutive title defense.
The night of May 20, 1988, will forever be etched in boxing history.
Not only because of the exciting title defense, but also because a legendary veteran bid farewell to the ring in the most heroic way—not by slowly declining and fading away, but by being defeated by a younger, stronger opponent in a fierce battle.
As the chief reporter of Boxing Illustrated wrote: "That night in London, we witnessed the birth of two legends - one who solidified his position as the strongest of his time, and the other who solidified his glory as an eternal legend."
The brown bomber took off for the last time, and although it eventually crashed, its trajectory will forever illuminate the sky above Boxing.
Chapter 203 Traud, the Chameleon!
London, May 21, 1988.
Victor Lee stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, looking down at the crowd playing by the pool below.
His knuckles were still wrapped in white bandages, throbbing slightly, but to him, the pain was like a medal.
Ten hours earlier, he finished off legendary boxer Joe Louis in four rounds in front of 27,000 spectators.
Although Louis was 38 years old and well past his prime, defeating such a boxing legend still added a golden touch to Viktor's career.
After that, Victor shook hands with members of the royal family, but the way Victor stood up straight and held his head high was certainly not something the British prince would like—but why should Americans need the British to like them?
Moreover, Victor is of Chinese descent.
But it doesn't matter anymore. Tulsa's local specialties have already become part of the imported goods of the Kingdom of Daisakura, and some of the supplies have even gone to Northern Ireland.
England and the Kingdom of Northern Ireland are already beckoning from afar, while the three-color 39-nation nation across the sea has been a widow for over a decade.
"Victor, the press conference will begin in fifteen minutes."
Promoter Frankie walked into the suite, holding a stack of documents. "The reporters are all downstairs, as excited as hungry wolves."
Viktor turned around, and sunlight streamed into the room from behind him, outlining a golden edge around his muscular frame.
At only twenty-two years old, he possessed the physique of a heavyweight boxer, and his dark eyes were as sharp as an eagle's—his face was so powerful that many scientists were secretly experimenting on it.
Because of Victor's powerful physique, many human anatomy researchers have studied his case. Through data modeling, they have discovered why all superheroes tend to have Chinese faces and can only be distinguished by skin color and hair:
The stronger he is, the more he resembles a traditional Chinese military general—with a leopard's head and tiger's eyes.
"What do they want to ask? About last night's game?"
Viktor's voice was deep, tinged with the lingering adrenaline of the war.
Frankie grinned, revealing two gold teeth: "It's not just about the matches, they want to know what's next. The boxing world needs new stories, and you're the one who writes them."