### Chapter 197: You Have to Be Ruthless

The next day, Richard got the fight tapes and the boxer profiles from Andy. He spent three days repeatedly watching the tapes and studying the records of Paul and Hasim Rahman.

In the end, he concluded that, as things stand, Hasim Rahman is much stronger than Paul.

Hasim currently has a record of 34 fights with 32 wins.

He has only lost twice before: once in the 1998 WBC title challenge against New Zealand’s "Moving Cannon" David Tua.

David Tua, known as "Tyson II," is as famous in the heavyweight division as Lennox Lewis and Evander Holyfield. He defeated John Ruiz in 1996, claiming the WBC International Heavyweight title, and was also a strong contender for the WBC World Championship.

Hasim’s second loss was to the "Night Train," Oleg Maskaev. Oleg is a Kazakhstani fighter whose most notable achievement was defeating world champion Vitali Klitschko in the Soviet national boxing competition, earning him the title of Soviet National Champion.

Hasim Rahman, nicknamed "The Rock," is known for his heavy punches, strong chin, and excellent combinations. He’s skilled with straight punches, jabs, and hooks, and he’s also good at delivering surprise "cold punches."

However, he has some clear weaknesses: he’s slow on his feet and has mediocre defense. Hasim is a typical power puncher, with a style similar to Shannon "The Cannon" Briggs, though perhaps even more dangerous.

When comparing the two, Paul and Hasim have similar styles as both are power punchers.

However, Paul’s fighting style isn’t as ruthless, and his punches don’t pack as much power. Plus, he lacks the dangerous "cold punch" that Hasim has, giving him less than a 20% chance of winning.

Richard called Paul’s coach, Ron Holmes, several times to discuss strategies for facing Hasim. Ron and his team proposed a plan that focuses on Hasim’s weaknesses—his slow footwork and weak defense—by putting Paul through special training to improve his speed and defensive abilities.

This approach seemed reasonable and targeted.

But Paul shares the same strengths and weaknesses as Hasim, being a power puncher who excels more at offense than defense.

If they turned Paul into a defensive fighter, it would diminish his natural strengths, making him fight in a way that feels unnatural.

Secondly, improving speed and agility in a short time is nearly impossible. Speed training had always been part of Paul’s regimen, with Richard often training alongside him, but the results were only average.

"Mr. Holmes’ method is safer, focusing on improving Paul’s defense, like giving him a shield. This approach ensures he won’t lose too badly and still gives him a chance to win," Richard said.

"So, what’s your plan?"

In the office, Andy and Bob Ruit, Paul’s agent, sat on the sofa.

Richard thought for a moment. "Forget defense. Face him head-on. I’ve studied both fighters’ profiles, and Paul’s punches are slightly less powerful and damaging than Hasim’s.

Rather than improving Paul’s defense, it would be better to focus on increasing his punching power and damage in the short term, sharpening his strengths. This would lead to a more brutal slugfest with Hasim. My plan is riskier; if we lose, it could be a brutal loss."

"Richard, do you have a way to increase Paul’s punching power and damage in a short time?" Bob Ruit asked.

"I have an idea. Whether it works depends on Paul’s performance," Richard replied with a shrug.

"Then we’ll go with your plan. Holmes’ approach is more conservative, facing a stronger opponent as the underdog. Even if we follow their plan, it won’t significantly increase the chances of winning.

Your strategy is bolder. Even if Paul loses, he’ll leave a stronger impression on the fans. I support your decision," Andy said, looking at Bob Ruit.

Bob nodded slightly. "Looking at the stats, Paul has a slim chance of winning. Since it’s a fight we’re likely to lose, there’s no need to overthink it. I agree with your approach. I’ll arrange for Paul to come to Los Angeles for training."

"Wait, make sure to discuss it with Paul and his coaching team first. Let’s avoid any conflicts," Richard suggested.

"Don’t worry; I’ll convince them," Bob Ruit laughed.

"Alright, and we could also plant some media stories hyping up Hasim and downplaying Paul, using stats to prove Hasim’s superiority," Richard proposed.

"A psychological tactic?" Andy raised an eyebrow and smiled.

"It’s mainly to motivate Paul. He has a strong rebellious streak, so seeing those stories should fire him up."

"Haha, aren’t you worried Paul might lose his nerve after reading them?"

"No, he’s not that kind of guy."

"Alright, you know Paul better."

After wrapping up the discussion, Richard left the bar and returned to the set for filming.

In the afternoon, he received a call from Paul.

"Hey, Richard, I think your idea is better. I’d rather go head-to-head with Hasim for a few rounds, even if I lose the fight, than focus on defense. Defense just isn’t my style," Paul said loudly.

Richard smiled lightly. "A true master is both offensive and defensive. Offense and defense are like the spear and shield, different weapons for different opponents in different arenas.

If you were good at defense, you wouldn’t be so tense about facing Hasim. But since you’re not, we need a strategy. This tactic only increases your chances of winning, but it doesn’t guarantee victory, so you should be prepared."

"Haha, Richard, I have faith in your strategy. But can you come back to New York? How about we train in New York?" Paul asked.

"Why? I’m filming right now and don’t have the time. Can’t you come to Los Angeles? The training room at the bar is fully equipped now, with a good environment. Training here would be just as effective."

"Well…"

Paul hesitated.

"What’s the matter? Just say it."

"Uh, remember last time I left Los Angeles? I swore I wouldn’t come back until I had a championship belt. Now I’m in a tough spot."

"…"

Richard shook his head. "You don’t have to come. I’ll give your coaching team the training plan, and you can train in New York. Starlight Sports has a few heavyweight boxers. They can help you train too."

"Um… I’ll think about it!"

"Alright!"

Richard hung up the phone.

The next day, Paul arrived in Los Angeles.

"This is Beverly Hills, not Los Angeles, right?" Paul grinned.

"Yes, now let’s start training."

Richard smiled lightly and led Paul into the training room. Time was limited, and there was no time to waste.

"How are we going to train?"

Paul followed him in and asked.

"We’re going to train your punching power, maximizing your potential. Here, put this on. You can’t take it off until the fight, not even when you’re in bed."

Richard tossed him a pair of 5-pound iron wristbands. They looked like large bracelets, covered in leather to prevent arm chafing.

"Will this work?" Paul asked, holding the wristbands.

"Put them on first."

Click, click Paul strapped on the wristbands. "What’s next?"

"Warm-up first!"

They spent fifteen minutes running on the treadmill and then did two sets of strength exercises, working up a sweat.

"Now we start the real training. Until the fight, I’ll train with you for two hours every day. In the first hour, you’ll be on offense, focusing on your attack power. In the second hour, I’ll attack, and you’ll work on your endurance."

Richard picked up a protective pad and held it in front of himself.

"You’re going to train with that?" Paul asked, wrapping his hands in bandages.

"Yes. I’m filming, so I can’t afford to get hurt. So, hit me with all you’ve got. Don’t stop unless I say so, or you’ll have to go back to New York to train on your own."

"Alright!"

Paul roared, clenching his fists.

"Start!"

Thud, thud, thud Paul swung his fists, hitting the pad hard.

"Put some muscle into it! Didn’t you eat?" Richard shouted.

Thud, thud, thud

Paul hit harder, continuing his attack.

"I want full-force attacks. When facing a strong opponent, landing one punch is a win, so put more power into it. I need to see your rage, your fury. Keep going!" Richard shouted sternly.

Thud, thud, thud

Paul roared and pounded the pad with all his might.

"Keep it up! Punch after punch, keep the rhythm!"

Richard moved around with the pad, dodging skillfully.

Thud, thud, thud

Paul gritted his teeth and kept attacking, throwing over a hundred punches until he was drenched in sweat, gasping for breath. His arm muscles twitched, feeling hot and sore. By then, the heavy wristbands felt unbearably heavy, and it was hard to lift his arms.

"I need a break; I can’t go on," Paul panted.

"Keep going! Fifty more effective punches!" Richard ordered.

"I really can’t. Training like this could tear my muscles," Paul waved his hand.

"Keep going. Worry about injuries later."Richard frowned.

"Alright, fifty punches! I can throw fifty more at most."

Paul exhaled, gritted his teeth, and continued to strike the punching pad.

Bam bam bam~

"What are you hitting?! I said effective strikes, effective strikes, not random punches. Again, you still have fifty punches left."

Richard said seriously.

"Another fifty punches?"

Paul grimaced with a pained expression, "I really can't go on, how about we take a break?"

"In the ring, if you tell your opponent you're tired and want to rest, do you think they'll agree? Hurry up, if you don't want to win the championship belt, just say so. I won't force you."

Richard said calmly.

"Alright!"

Paul hesitated, then raised his trembling arms, bam bam bam~

"Put more strength into it. Don't keep thinking about how your arms are sore and weak. You need to focus on how to defeat your enemy and deliver the most effective strikes. Keep going!"

Bam bam bam~

Twelve minutes later, Paul finally finished his fifty punches and collapsed onto the mat, drenched in sweat, his skin flushed dark red.

"Stand up and give me three more effective strikes!"

Richard nudged him with his foot.

"…"

Paul lay on the ground, twitching his mouth. This guy must be a demon—no, even more ruthless than a demon. He was going to train him to death.

"Hurry up!"

Richard shouted.

"No, I can't do it anymore!"

Paul shook his head slightly with his eyes closed, refusing to get up.

Richard sighed softly, "Remember when Alvin and I trained together? No matter when, I could always push myself. Do you know why?"

"Because you're a freak!"

"No, it takes a stronger willpower. Now is the time to test your will. If you conquer yourself, you'll become stronger. This is the critical moment, three more punches!"

Richard said.

"I can't do it. Look at my arms, I can't even lift my pinky."

Paul's arms were lying on the ground, muscles trembling uncontrollably, his fingers shaking as well.

"You really can't get up?"

Richard smiled slightly, picked up a remote control, and turned on the TV on the wall.

"Come on, let me show you something interesting."

"What?"

Paul slightly opened his eyes.

"Ahhh! Help, what are you doing?!"

Suddenly, screams came from the TV. Two masked robbers were dragging a black girl into a car.

"Venus? That's Venus!"

Paul jumped up instantly.

Click~

Richard turned off the TV and picked up the punching pad again. "See, you got up. Come on, let's continue!"

Paul frowned deeply at him, "What happened to Venus?"

"Imagine if Venus was being kidnapped right now. Do you have the strength to save her? If not, you'd just have to watch her get hurt. Would you be okay with that? Hurry up! Keep punching!"

Richard shouted.

Paul curled the corner of his mouth, "Is this a joke?"

"If you want to know, keep punching. Hurry up, I don't have time to waste with you!"

Richard frowned.

Paul clenched his fists and, trembling, raised his arms.

"Hurry up, Venus is being taken away."

Richard shouted.

"Roar!"

Paul let out a loud yell and struck the punching pad with all his strength.

Bam~ one punch! Bam~ two punches! Bam~ three punches!

Bam!

Paul collapsed to the ground again, this time truly motionless.

Richard shook his head and turned the TV back on.

"Paul, train hard and aim to get that championship belt soon. Go for it!"

On the TV, Venus was cheering with her fists raised.

"Listen, how does that feel?"

Richard smiled.

Paul squinted at the TV and curled his lips, "Don't worry, I'll definitely get the championship belt."

"Want to get up and throw a few more punches?"

Richard asked.

"Sure!"

Paul gritted his teeth, tried to stand up, but his arms gave out, and he fell back to the ground.

"Forget it, don't push yourself."

There was supposed to be another endurance training session, but seeing Paul like that, Richard decided not to push him further. He called Paul's masseur to help relax his muscles; otherwise, Paul wouldn't be able to move tomorrow.

After setting Paul up, Richard put on a pair of 20-pound wrist weights and started training alone.

---

The next day, filming continued. Over the past ten days, the crew had focused on shooting scenes between Richard and Sandra. Since Sandra was the lead actress, she had more scenes.

Richard's scenes in Los Angeles were mostly done, with only a few scattered scenes left, just a few shots each day.

Once Sandra finished her scenes here, the crew would move to Las Vegas and Alamo City, Texas, to shoot the remaining scenes.

With less work each day, Richard and Paul had more time to train, increasing from two hours to three or four hours a day.

Bam bam bam~

Wearing a tank top, baggy shorts, red boxing gloves, and weighted wristbands, Richard was quickly attacking Paul, landing one heavy punch after another, each blow packed with power.

Paul managed to defend for a few rounds before being forced back repeatedly, unable to cope. His chest, ribs, face, and head all took hits in quick succession.

Bam!

Richard landed a hook on Paul's cheek, making him stagger. Before Paul could steady himself, another straight punch hit him squarely on the forehead.

Bang!

Paul was knocked to the ground, and despite wearing rubber protective gear on his head and face, Richard's punches still left him dazed.

"Get up! Keep going!"

Richard shouted while hopping on his feet.

"Stop! This won't work. Your punches are too strong, and I can't hit back. If this keeps up, I'll get killed. I want to use the punching pad for sparring!"

Paul shouted.

"This is to train your endurance. If you can't handle my punches with headgear on, how will you withstand Hasim's attacks?"

"Your punches are way more brutal than Hasim's. Who could withstand this?"

Paul held his forehead, feeling his brain buzzing from the punch.

"You can dodge. This also trains your reaction time."

"Your speed is too fast, and you can predict my dodging. Dodging is useless."

Paul frowned.

"Alright!"

Richard took off his gloves, wrapped his hands with more cotton, and switched to 18-ounce thickened gloves to reduce the force.

"Is this better?"

"Yes!"

Bam bam bam~

With the thicker gloves, Richard resumed attacking Paul, punch after punch. Paul kept dodging, defending, and moving, and after an hour of endurance training, his cheeks were still swollen, and he collapsed on the ground like a puddle of mud.

"Rest for half an hour, then we'll do power training!"

Richard said, taking off his gloves and drinking a glass of salt water.

"Sigh, it's the most painful part of the day again… No, endurance training is also painful. I've realized that ever since I came to Los Angeles, not a single day has been without pain."

Paul sighed, leaning against the wall.

"Why don't you go back to New York?"

"Eh, forget it. I think the training here is pretty good."

Paul grinned, but accidentally tugged at the wounds on his face, making him grimace in pain.

"Then stop complaining. I'm a rich superstar, giving up tens of thousands of dollars a day to be here practicing boxing with you. Do you think you have the right to complain?"

Richard joked.

"Hehe~ I guess that's true."

Paul scratched his face and smiled.

"Also, take a look at this!"

Richard threw a few boxing magazines in front of him.

"These are boxing magazines' evaluations of you. You can take a look."

Paul picked them up and flipped through them, nearly getting angry. The magazines listed his and Hasim's match data and their respective strengths.

In comparison, Paul was portrayed as a mediocre boxer, with predictions that he would undoubtedly lose, with a win rate of less than 10%.

"Fuck!"

Paul cursed, then picked up another magazine, which was even more provoking, stating that Hasim was powerful and had the potential to become a world champion, while Paul Pilbert was just a small stepping stone on Hasim's path to the championship, not worth worrying about.

"Fuck! Fuck!"

Paul was furious. He flipped through several more magazines, and they all said the same thing: compared to Hasim, he was just a piece of trash.

Creak creak~

Paul gritted his teeth, his face as hot as burning iron. He punched the wall and said harshly,

"Come on, let's keep training!"

"Alright, but drink your water first."

Richard pointed to a large glass of salt water.

Paul said nothing, gulped down the salt water in one go, and wiped his mouth, ready to start.

"Let's go!"

Richard grabbed the punching pad, "Use heavy punches! Heavy punches are your sharpest weapon. If you want to defeat Hasim, your punches need to be even sharper."

Bam bam bam~

Without waiting for more instructions, Paul struck out in anger, each punch filled with power.

"Pay attention, keep your rhythm. A rhythmic attack lasts longer. Watch your opponent's reactions, pick the right moment and target to strike. Mindless aggression will only waste your energy."

Bam bam bam~

Paul listened to his advice, paused after a few punches, bounced on his feet, followed his movement, and kept moving. When the right moment came, he continued his attack. This time, he lasted half an hour with over 180 effective strikes.

In the following days, Richard continued filming with the crew while training Paul.

---

(End of this chapter)