thefictionvixens Page 217
Page 217
"Is your wife willing to let you work in Chicago?"
"She will come with me."
“You’ve changed, Rocky.”
“Victor, I’m bankrupt. And a man’s greatest duty is, first and foremost, to feed his children and earn money. That’s not shameful.”
"Skywind City Sports welcomes you to join us."
Back in his room, Victor stood by the window, gazing at the glittering night view of Atlantic City.
He stroked his swollen knuckles, thinking about José's incredible tenacity.
Then he remembered his coach's words: "Boxing is a contest of wills, fists are just tools."
Tonight, he witnessed true indomitable will.
In the distance, the sun begins to rise from the sea, and a new day is about to begin.
Victor Lee remains the world champion, but tonight he learned a lesson more valuable than successfully defending his title—a lesson about resilience, respect, and humanity.
He picked up the phone and called a hospital in Chicago to inquire about Jose's condition.
Only after learning that the other person's condition had stabilized did he finally allow himself to lie down and rest.
In his dream, he could still hear the cheers of the audience, feel the vibrations of the boxing gloves hitting his body, and see the look in José's eyes as he stood up again even after being knocked down.
That is something even more precious than victory.
·······
The perseverance of the Chinese community comes at the cost of dirty work.
Early in the morning, Victor received a call from Blair:
“Victor, congratulations on your eight-game winning streak, but I must tell you that the Chicago Agricultural Services Bank rejected our acquisition offer and chose to go bankrupt.”
"This is really bad news. Do we have any other options?"
"The banks probably won't choose us; they've decided to go bankrupt. We can only choose savings and loan institutions."
"Is there really no other way? Even changing the legal entity to a white person doesn't work?"
"Chicago has no secrets."
"Chinatown is impenetrable, like a second empire in Chicago. Chicago's financial tycoons aren't fools. The FBI sent six groups to investigate you. If it weren't for George's guarantee and his concern about riots in Chicago, you would have been arrested long ago. It's very difficult for you to get involved in the financial sector in Chicago."
"I understand. How's Tulsa?"
“Tulsa Agricultural Services Bank and the two savings and loan institutions in Chicago are acceptable.”
"Then let's acquire it!"
"No need to rush, we've already gained a lot."
"Yes, at worst we can wait for the next financial crisis."
"Your joke is very funny."
"I don't tell jokes."
Chapter 183 Skywind City Annual Summary Conference
In 1987, Chicago was bitterly cold, but the city's hustle and bustle and vitality remained undiminished.
For Viktor, this year was undoubtedly another peak in his life.
He won all seven of his WBA heavyweight title defenses with undeniable dominance, earning him the nicknames "Chicago Typewriter" and "Far East Tiger" on the cover of a boxing magazine.
On the boxing ring, he was an undefeated king, enjoying the cheers and worship of the crowd. He was ranked alongside another boxing king, Tyson, becoming the twin kings of the boxing world. For Lee Seung-ri, who initially only knew about Muhammad Ali and Mike Tyson, this was already an honor.
Outside the boxing ring, the Skywind City Group, which he founded, is thriving.
Just as its name suggests, it swept through the Windy City of Chicago and beyond like a hurricane.
The restaurant giant "Snowy Wind City" has its signboard all over the streets and alleys of major cities. Its delicious and affordable Asian flavors and efficient fast food model have won over the stomachs and wallets of countless diners.
The fresh agricultural product supply chain, relying on strong logistics and emerging cold chain technology, has almost formed a regional monopoly advantage.
In the city center, two skyscrapers named "Skywind City" are rising from the ground, their glass curtain walls gleaming with a cold and modern light under the winter sun, symbolizing the booming ambition of this commercial empire.
The group has many branches and foliage:
Snow Honey Wind City Catering – Cash Flow Cow; Sky Wind City Logistics – Blood Vessels; Sky Wind City Fresh Cold Chain Delivery – Emerging Lifeline; Sky Wind City Security Company – Strong Shield and Enforcers; Sky Wind City Sports Training – Cradle of Champions; Sky Wind City Promotion and Brokerage Company – Image and Fame; Sky Wind City Finance Company – Blood Pump; Sky Wind City Construction Company – Skeleton; Sky Wind City Agriculture Company – Foundation; Sky Wind City Gambling and Entertainment Company – Perpetual Motion Machine of Wealth… Each name represents power, money, and influence.
On Christmas Eve, the bigwigs who controlled the key components of the massive machine were summoned to Chicago from all directions.
As flights take off and land, luxury cars silently drive into the garages of hotels owned by the downtown group, bringing with them performance reports, problems, and ambitions from various locations.
·······
The day before Christmas Eve, the sky in Chicago darkened early.
The leaden-gray clouds hung low, pressing down on the skyline of the city with its towering buildings, like a huge, undyed felt blanket, completely swallowing up the afternoon light.
The Skywind City Group headquarters building, like a black sword, pierces the gray sky, and its huge floor-to-ceiling windows in the top-floor conference room now offer a divine perspective overlooking this windy city.
This is the first floor that has been completed.
Inside the meeting room, in stark contrast to the gloomy and cold atmosphere outside the window, there was a heavy yet intense artificial ambiance.
The air was still, the rich smoke of expensive cigars intertwined with the aroma of freshly ground coffee, yet permeated by a subtle but undeniable tension, like a faint electric current lurking beneath a magnificent Persian carpet.
Persian carpets, virtue in chaena.
The long, gleaming conference table reflected the low-hanging crystal chandelier and every upright face, like a cold, black river dividing the two banks of power.
Seated in the main seat, controlling the course of this river, is Victor.
His massive frame almost filled the custom-made executive chair, and his well-tailored dark suit accentuated his broad, boxer-like shoulders and thick chest, exuding an explosive power beneath his silence.
His face showed little expression, and his gaze calmly swept over each participant. It was not a simple stare, but rather a scrutiny, just as he used to weigh every weakness and habit of his opponents in the boxing ring—calm, precise, and without any superfluous emotion.
To his left sat, in order:
Blair, the group's CEO, wore an impeccable three-piece suit, his silver-gray hair neatly combed.
He was bowing his head slightly, using his slender fingers to sort through the thick stack of performance reports in front of him one last time. Every movement revealed the precision and restraint of a professional manager. He was the most efficient executor of Victor's will and the helmsman of this commercial behemoth.
Blair is married to a Chinese woman and is expecting a child.
Jimmy, head of the legal department, has sharp, eagle-like eyes behind his gold-rimmed glasses, and his thin lips are tightly pursed, as if he is always ready to cite classical texts to refute any possible legal challenge. He is a user of the rules and a builder of firewalls.
This former convict, whom even his own brother disliked, has now transformed into a business partner.
Ethan, the leader of the training team, wore a tight polo shirt, his muscle lines clearly visible even when he sat down. His expression was as focused as a hunting dog waiting for a command. He was responsible for honing the various "human resources" needed by the group, especially the group of tough guys in the security department.
Michael, head of the marketing and pharmacy division, is a stylish Italian-style man with gleaming cufflinks. He is eloquent and responsible for presenting the group's image in a polished and sophisticated manner, integrating it into mainstream Chicago society and charitable settings.
To his right was:
He Ru, the head of the betting business, always wore an enigmatic smile, but his eyes held a calculating and cautious depth.
He controls the group's most sensitive and largest cash flow, walking the line between the light and the gray.
Frankie, the head of the security company and Victor's cousin, had a cold and hard expression, just like his heavily armed and expressionless bodyguards.
He is the physical embodiment of power, responsible for "persuasion" and "protection," and the savage guardian of the group's territory; 15,000 men are enough.
Svetlana, the head of the finance company, is from Russia. She has dazzling blonde hair and a stunningly beautiful face, like the reflection of light on winter ice. However, no one in the group dares to underestimate her because of her appearance.
The sordid past in the South District is behind us. "Sister Russia" is a nickname stemming from her ruthless, precise, and even cruel financial methods. She can dissect every penny of profit from the accounts as if dissecting a chicken, and she can also make debtors feel utterly desperate in the dead of winter.
She is the coldest person now.
Old Joe, Victor's uncle, an independent auditor, sat silently a little further away, wearing a gray suit. His expression was as flat as the calculator in his hand, yet he exuded an unquestionable authority. He was Victor's "lie detector" to ensure the accuracy of everyone's figures.
In addition, dozens of Chicago-based Chinese shareholders who had supported Victor's rise in the early days sat at the end and back of the long table. Their faces were filled with satisfaction and anticipation as they enjoyed the rich returns from their investments. They were the "old money" and support base in Victor's power structure.
The meeting had been going on for the entire afternoon.
Cigars were lit one after another, and coffee and tea pots were refilled when they were empty.
Blair began with a macro overview, his voice steady and clear, like a precise carving knife, outlining the group's tremendous success in 1987.
"Gentlemen,"
He began, his gaze sweeping over the crowd, "In 1987, we firmly established ourselves in Windy City. Total revenue increased by 67% year-on-year, and net profit increased..."
Numbers are both cold and hot.
As he rattled off staggering percentages and astronomical figures, the only sounds in the conference room were the scratching of pens on paper and the occasional suppressed cough.
The restaurant business spread like wildfire, not only flourishing in impoverished neighborhoods but also penetrating upscale downtown areas, with its strategy of offering high-quality food at low prices (sometimes even the only option) proving highly effective.
Especially after the black-white divide, the boycott of Japanese goods in Chicago, and the consumption downgrade caused by the financial crisis, it is not only a source of profit, but also the nerve ending of information networks and community influence.
Next was the security business that Ethan was in charge of.
He spoke in a loud voice, with a hint of pride.
"We've increased our manpower by 400% and upgraded all our equipment. This not only ensures absolute security for all of the group's locations, but also allows for rapid expansion of our external business."
They undertook security work for three banks and two large department stores, and even established cooperative relationships with certain municipal departments.
Franky nodded slightly, a hint of satisfaction appearing on his usually stern face.
Security has long transcended simple home protection; it has become a sturdy shield under the group's legal guise, and a tentacle that has penetrated into the fabric of the city.
"Furthermore, our partnership with finance companies has enabled us to achieve a loan recovery rate of 99%."
Finance companies don't offer interest-bearing loans to Chinese people—because it's too unethical.
Then it was Svetlana's turn.
She didn't even need to look at the report; her fluent English, with a slight Eastern European accent, was as precise as a scalpel.
"The finance company's micro-loan business maintains a satisfactory profit margin of over 85%. The default rate is controlled at 3.2%, with 'effective recovery methods' assisted by the security company."
The Russian woman parted her red lips slightly and uttered cold words, "Our network has penetrated into every corner of the community where there is a need for loans, and the speed of capital recovery has accelerated, providing a stable cash flow for the expansion of other businesses."
The "effective means" she mentioned caused several people in the room to exchange glances, a tacit understanding—to live well, they still had to rely on local specialties.
The agricultural company's representative (who also served as a silent Chinese shareholder) briefly reported on the advantages of controlling upstream raw materials, which reduced costs by a full 20%, providing a huge advantage for the catering business.
They also mentioned six large farms near Chicago, totaling 60,000 acres, which were acquired through loans and then auctioned off after the financial crisis.