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On the ruins of Chicago, people began to clean up the mess, repair shops, and heal the wounds.
But the seeds of suspicion and fear have already been sown.
Japanese companies have become more cautious, the Chinese community has become more reliant on its own armed forces, and the divide between different ethnic groups has been deepened by this deliberately provoked anger, creating an indelible rift.
Skywind City Security's business surged after the riots, and Franky and his team silently accepted the praise and new contracts.
As a result, the number of security personnel in Skywind City surged to 12500—out of a total of only 200,000 people of Chinese descent.
Five hundred more officers than the Chicago police force in Taman Detrick, in order to deal with a community of more than 120,000 people in Chicago.
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In the fourth week, Vitaly Klitschko arrived in Atlantic City.
His training camp was set up in a boxing gym on the other side of the city, but the media deliberately created a competitive atmosphere, turning every comparison between the two into news.
On Friday, both teams held a pre-match joint meeting to finalize the details.
The meeting was held at the WBA office, and the atmosphere was formal and tense.
Vitaly's agent, Yuri Klitschko—who is also his uncle—was the first to object: "We insist on additional drug testing. Olympic standards, random testing before the competition."
Michael countered, "The WBA already has standard testing procedures, so why is additional testing needed?"
"Because of the integrity of this sport."
Yuri said coldly, "We want to ensure fair competition."
Viktor sensed the unspoken meaning—what was Klitschko's team implying?
He looked directly at Vitaly, the cigarette in his hand swishing smoke: "Do you think I need drugs to win? I just have some asthma."
“I don’t think you have asthma, I think you’re addicted to smoking.”
Vitaly calmly returned the glance: "But this is standard procedure; we all undergo random testing at the Olympics. Why should professional boxing lower its standards?"
The WBA representative interjected, "We can adopt Olympic standard testing. Is there a problem, Mr. Viktor?"
Michael glanced at Victor, who nodded slightly.
"no problem."
Michael said, "We have nothing to hide."
The following discussion revolved around referee selection, ring size, and glove brand.
Every discussion felt like a mini-war, with neither side willing to back down.
Viktor observed that Vitaly remained silent most of the time, speaking only at crucial moments, and always hitting the nail on the head.
During a break in the meeting, the two boxers unexpectedly met in the corridor.
"Your team is very protective of you, and you have a great mindset."
Viktor commented, "I think you're smarter than your mayor in Kyiv."
Vitaly smiled: "Yours too. But they did very well. This game is important for all of us."
Why did you switch to a professional gaming job?
Viktor suddenly asked, "With an Olympic gold medal in hand, you could have dominated the amateur field for a few more years. I don't think you're the kind of person like Golota who would want to immigrate to the United States just because he didn't think much of the Soviet Union."
Vitaly's expression turned serious: "Ukraine needs role models. We need to show the world that we can produce not only champions, but also world-class professional athletes."
He paused for a moment, then said, "And I need money. Boxing is my family's way out of this predicament."
Victor nodded.
He understands this motivation; his own initial reason for boxing was to escape poverty in Brooklyn.
"After October 20th, no matter the outcome, I'll treat you to a drink."
Vitaly raised an eyebrow: "I thought American boxers didn't like their opponents."
"What I dislike are those who treat boxing purely as a business."
Viktor replied, "You are a soldier, and I respect soldiers."
The two shook hands and then returned to the conference room.
Final details confirmed: the match will be 12 rounds, and the winner will be awarded a special WBA gold belt.
Reduce training volume to allow your body to recover to its optimal condition.
He watched more videos, had tactical discussions with Solomon, and prepared himself mentally.
On Thursday evening (October 18, 1987), he meditated alone in his hotel room—a technique he had learned from a sports psychologist.
He imagined every detail of the match, from the moment he stepped onto the field to the first bell, and every possible scenario.
Mental rehearsal is just as important as physical training.
How to release psychological stress?
Victor is very good at it:
Nisha in the first half of the night.
Lisa in the middle of the night.
The appointment was made for the evening of the 20th.
Chapter 171 A Wail Descends from the Sky - The Rhythm of the Great Klein
Friday, the weighing ceremony.
The conference hall was once again packed with media and fans.
When Victor took the stage, the cheers were deafening.
He weighs 408 pounds, has exaggerated muscle definition, and is in perfect condition.
Vitaly's rise to power also caused a sensation.
He weighed 247 pounds, tall but not bulky, like a Greek sculpture.
As the two stared at each other, the flashes of light almost turned the room into daylight.
"Tomorrow evening."
"Viktor said in a low voice."
"Long-awaited."
Vitaly responded.
The press conference following the weighing ceremony was brief and formal.
Both boxers expressed respect for their opponent and confidence in victory.
That night, Victor went to bed early but had difficulty falling asleep.
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Why is it hard to fall asleep?
Why can't America sleep today?
How could so many people fall from the sky?
Monday, April 10th.
In the early morning, the plunge in Asian markets was like the first domino to fall, and ominous news spread rapidly around the world via transoceanic telegrams and the early internet.
London followed suit, with its market suffering a sharp drop at the opening bell.
At the New York Stock Exchange, the opening bell tolled like a death knell.
Instead of searching for direction amidst its usual uncertainty, the Dow Jones Industrial Average plummeted like a boulder thrown from a cliff.
Sell orders surged in like a tsunami, instantly overwhelming all buy orders.
The color drained from the traders' faces at a visible speed, replaced by a terrified pallor.
The phone kept ringing, but not with orders; instead, it was filled with desperate urging and questioning.
"Sell! Sell at any price!"
"Oh my god, what happened?!"
"No buyers! Not a single one!"
"What's going on? Has the Soviet Union already taken France in a blitzkrieg? And have these French people surrendered?"
On the screen, the numbers were jumping wildly, and green (which was displayed as green at the time) dominated everything. That green was so glaring, like the flames of hell.
The Dow Jones Industrial Average looks like a kite with a broken string:
-100 points!
-200 points!
-300 points!
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The increase quickly exceeded 10%, and then it marched irresistibly toward 20%.
Inside the exchange, shouts, curses, and cries mingled together, creating a symphony of financial doom.
The paper tape printers couldn't keep up with printing transaction records; the market collapsed far faster than the information could be transmitted.
The television in the office was turned up to maximum volume, and the financial news anchor's voice trembled as he tried to explain everything that couldn't be explained.
Occasionally, during the scene transitions, footage captures chaotic, almost out-of-control scenes inside the exchange.
Victor sat in Ivana's office, where the same disaster scene was playing on a huge screen.
But there was no panic on his face, only an extreme, cold focus—why not take Skywind City Company public, why not go mow the lawn?
This is the answer!
He witnessed the collapse of countless capitals and heard countless cries of despair:
Despite being separated by a screen, the desperate cries seemed to penetrate the glass.