bookbashuk Page 204
Page 204
His fingers tapped lightly on the table as he calculated and assessed. His company had plenty of cash, so this plunge was not a disaster for him, but rather the prelude to opportunity.
Ivana's face showed pain, but she was already mentally prepared:
"Fortunately, your Skywind City has escaped a calamity!"
Ivana asked Victor, "So, with your $70 million appearance fee and $90 million in box office revenue sharing, how much of TLP's equity are you going to take directly?"
“I want the Plaza Hotel in Atlantic City! TLP is finished, and in two years at most, I’ll take it all over! Including you, Ivana, I’m fed up with sneaking around.”
Viktor cracked his neck as he made two phone calls:
"Blair, acquire the Brooklyn Eagle this year."
“Emily, tell your boss that I’m going to acquire the Brooklyn Eagle.”
·······
It's not just numbers that have plummeted; it's wealth, life, and people.
At four o'clock in the afternoon, the closing bell rang, but it could not end the nightmare.
The Dow Jones Industrial Average plunged 508.32 points, a drop of 22.62%, setting a new record. The S&P 500 also plummeted 20.5%.
More than $5000 billion in wealth evaporated, equivalent to one-eighth of the US GDP.
Numbers are cold, but behind them lie countless shattered dreams.
The news began broadcasting even more horrifying news.
"...It has been reported that renowned fund manager Bill Johnson was found dead in his office this afternoon; the preliminary assessment is that it was a suicide..."
"...A male body was found dead in an apartment building in Midtown Manhattan, suspected to be a suicide by jumping, believed to be related to today's stock market crash..."
"...Further reports indicate that a Wall Street trader has fallen from a high-rise building in the financial district..."
Why do so many people fall from the sky?
—The next day's newspaper headline would ask this question in despair.
The wails did indeed follow the people as they fell from the sky.
Those once powerful and extravagant tycoons and elites lost everything within hours, even incurring huge debts.
Unable to bear the immense pressure that had fallen from the sky, they chose the most extreme way to escape.
The wind on the rooftop of the high-rise building was exceptionally cold that day.
The neon-lit city night sky was shrouded in a bloody hue.
Victor also saw these news reports.
He remained silent for a moment, a hint of pleasure flashing in his eyes, but it was quickly replaced by resolute determination.
The market is ruthless; it has no sympathy for the weak.
Mourning cannot change the present situation; only action can secure a foothold in the future.
“Ivana, tell me now which of TLP’s businesses are good assets, and I will pay real money.”
·······
October 20th.
The ballroom at the Atlantic City Plaza Hotel has been converted into a makeshift boxing gym, with only about half of the seats available.
The air was filled with the smells of cigars, perfume, and anticipation.
Boxing legends and die-hard fans gathered as HBO's cameras were ready.
The only difference is that there are no 'celebrities and dignitaries' anymore, because the stock market crash has kept them too busy to take time off and they're all busy taking stock of their assets.
Viktor was making his final preparations in the locker room.
Ethan wrapped his hands, Michael checked the gloves, and Solomon reviewed the tactics one last time.
"Remember, physical attacks come first."
Old Jack said, "Use up his energy, find an opening in his jaw. Don't rush things, this is a marathon, not a sprint."
Viktor nodded, his eyes focused.
He has completed all preparations; now all he needs to do is execute the plan.
The staff knocked on the door: "Five minutes, Mr. Li."
Viktor stood up, and the team formed a circle, their hands clasped together.
"For glory!"
"For victory!"
Michael took over.
"For boxing!"
Old Jack roared, "For the liberation of mankind!"
Everyone looked at him in surprise.
Old Jack withdrew his hand: "Fuck, when you're chanting slogans, you just unconsciously shout out the ones from before."
Viktor spoke last: "For those who believe in us!"
They walked out of the locker room and forward along the corridor.
The noise from the audience grew louder and louder, and Victor could feel the floor shaking.
When he appeared at the entrance, cheers erupted like a tsunami.
The spotlight shone on him as he slowly walked toward the boxing ring.
As far as the eye could see, he saw countless faces—cheering fans, supporters holding up signs, and serious-looking commentators.
Vitaly also appeared from the opposite entrance, causing a similar sensation.
Ukrainian fans waved blue and yellow flags and chanted slogans for their national heroes.
The two boxers met in the center of the boxing ring.
The referee gave final instructions: "Follow the rules, protect yourself, and compete fairly. Listen to my instructions. Any questions?"
The two shook their heads and returned to their respective corners.
Victor took a deep breath, removed his robe, and jumped a few times to relax his muscles.
The bell is about to ring.
He looked at Vitaly in the opposite corner; the tall Ukrainian was also looking at him.
Their eyes met, and they nodded to each other.
At this moment, all politics, all controversies, and all business considerations no longer matter.
Only two men, a boxing ring, and the impending battle remained.
Victor Lee stood up and walked to the center of the boxing ring, towards his destiny.
The two started fighting!
The off-site host began introducing the two teams, and cheers echoed through the walls.
"It's time to go on stage." Mick patted Victor's cheek.
Viktor stood up and took a deep breath.
He was shorter than Big K, but had broader shoulders and more defined muscles.
He habitually jumped twice to feel the weight beneath his feet, then made the sign of the cross and walked towards the passage.
At the other end of the passage, Klinchenko also came out.
Their eyes met briefly and intensely in mid-air before they turned back to the boxing ring.
The spotlights were so bright they made it hard to open your eyes, and the shouts from the audience were deafening.
Viktor stretched his shoulders and neck in the corner of the ring one last time, while Mick whispered the key points of the tactics, but Viktor was no longer listening.
His entire attention was focused on the tall figure opposite him.
The referee called the two players to the center and repeated the rules.
Big Kroc is much taller than Victor, giving him a clear advantage in wingspan.
His gaze was as calm as a deep pool, a stark contrast to the flames in Viktor's eyes.
"Take care of yourself and play a great game."
The referee concluded.
Victor retreated to the corner, and Ethan and Old Jack patted him on the back one last time: "Remember the plan, don't let him sway the pace."
The bell rang crisply, cutting through the air.
Round one begins.
To everyone's surprise, the two abandoned their probing and walked directly to the center of the stage.
Even more surprisingly, instead of testing the waters with a jab as usual, Viktor Klinchenko threw a powerful right straight punch at Viktor's head.
The punch whistled past, almost grazing Viktor's cheekbone.
Victor dodged to the side, but Big K's left hook followed immediately.
With a thud, a fist struck Victor's head guard. Although the blow wasn't heavy, it was enough to show Big K's offensive intent.
"what happened?"
Ethan frowned on the sidelines. "Big K isn't usually this aggressive."
Old Jack understood everything: "It's just a preemptive strike; he wants to use his fists to scare Victor into a panic!"
Viktor took a step back and readjusted the distance.
Instead of pursuing, Da Ke suddenly changed his rhythm, began to use his long arms to control the distance, and his jabs rained down.
Straight punch, jab, and another straight punch.
Big K's combination punches were extremely fierce and precise. His basic skills, honed through traditional Eastern European boxing training, allowed him to handle the situation with ease, hitting Viktor's path every time.