"Damn..." At nine in the morning, Leon shook his head, which felt heavy as lead.
His mouth was dry, and the hangover hadn't quite worn off yet.
Ariana was woken up by his movement.
She rubbed her eyes, stretched, and let out a soft groan. "Aren't you up a little too early, honey?"
After multiple "intimate sessions," Ariana had been completely won over.
Her form of address had upgraded from a reserved "Boss" to intimate nicknames.
Her entire temperament had become more vibrant and charming—a key transformation from a girl to a woman.
"I have important work today." Leon stroked Ariana's hair. "I'll be staying in Las Vegas for a while."
There were less than three days left until the Billboard Music Awards.
The venue was set at the MGM Grand in Las Vegas.
Additionally, the UFC headquarters was also located in Las Vegas, so he planned to sign the "BMF" title contract while he was there.
"Alright~" Ariana nuzzled against Leon's chest. "When do we leave?"
"In four hours."
"Then we have time for another round~"
Before Leon could agree, Ariana revealed a strange, mischievous grin.
She buried her head under the covers, moving downwards.
After Leon's multiple rounds of "expert tutoring," she had truly blossomed into a mature young woman.
"Holy sht..." Leon felt like he had been hit with a paralysis spell; unable to refuse, he could only let her have her way.
---
The history of Las Vegas is quite young; it was founded in 1905.
After gold and silver mines were discovered in Nevada, a large number of gold diggers poured in, and Las Vegas began to prosper.
But like every mining town in the West, once the mines were exhausted, they would be abandoned.
In 1931, during the Great Depression, in order to survive the economic crisis, the Nevada State Legislature pioneered the bill to legalize gambling.
Las Vegas became a gambling city and rose rapidly from then on.
In the same year, the Hoover Dam was built. The rise of this famous dam was the cornerstone of the gambling city's prosperity.
By the 1950s, the tentacles of Mafia families had extended into every industry in the city.
Many people think that the Italian Mafia shaped the prosperity of the gambling city, but this is actually a stereotype spread by the movie The Godfather.
The real masters of the gambling city were the Jewish mobsters.
The history of American gangs has gone through several important periods, from the Western bandits during the Westward Expansion to the Italian Mafia and Irish gangs during the Prohibition era...
Then to the 1980s, street gangs represented by the Crips.
After the new millennium, Latin American gangs involved in drug trafficking became the absolute kings of the underground.
Trends constantly changed, but the only ones who made big money from this "black gold mine" and could still retreat unscathed were the Jewish mobsters.
They relied on the corruption of politicians and clever business tactics to extract huge wealth, and they remain the controllers of the gambling city to this day.
"Hi~ Bro~ Are you almost here?!"
"Come to the Sands Hotel, my luck is exploding today!"
"I know you've made a lot recently, watch out or I'll clean you out~"
Mars's excited screaming came from Leon's phone.
This guy called Leon the moment he landed in Vegas.
Mars had arrived in Las Vegas three days ago and had been gambling day and night in major hotels.
Obviously, attending the Billboard Music Awards was just an excuse for him to gamble wildly.
"Another day, man. I'm working right now," Leon replied perfunctorily.
"Fxxk! What's more important than playing cards!" Mars's voice pitched up. "The money earned from a whole tour, I can win back in just one hand~ This is the real way to make money!"
Hearing this, both Leon and Phil beside him fell silent.
Mars's work Just The Way You Are dominated the UK and US single charts and swept the charts in European and Asian countries.
It set a sales record of 3 million copies in the US.
Even if he held orgies every day and ate amphetamines like toffee...
He couldn't spend all his money.
Except for gambling.
"Man, wait for me, I'll find you."
"Alright Bro~ Do you know who I met at the Sands Hotel?! Michael Jordan!"
"Jordan?" Hearing the name of the God of Basketball, Leon shook.
It was well known in the circle that this wealthiest basketball player in history loved all kinds of card games.
"Yes! You heard right!" Mars said. "His skills are like sht! Taking money from him is as easy as a zero-dollar shopping spree!"
"Good luck killing it at the table... maybe you can even win the shares of the Charlotte Bobcats from Jordan..."
"Hahaha! Nothing is impossible~"
After hanging up the phone, Phil sneered from the side: "Do you know how much that bastard owes these Las Vegas hotels?"
"Never cared," Leon responded.
"He currently owes the Sands Group 20 million dollars... The executives at Atlantic Records are going crazy over this."
"Julie even threatened to shelve Mars if he didn't quit gambling..."
Shelve him?
Leon thought that was impossible.
Currently, apart from Coldplay, Mars was the absolute ace of that record company.
He was the torchbearer for the revival of R&B and Funk music; both his record sales and live performances were impeccable.
Atlantic Records was just afraid that Mars would lose control due to gambling.
In the film and music industries of the early 20th century, the Mafia and Irish gangs used various means to strengthen their control over artists.
Including violence and drugs.
The only progress in 100 years is that the means used to control artists have changed from violence and drugs to various complicated contract clauses.
It looks more civilized, but in reality, there's no difference.
---
Just arriving near the UFC headquarters building, Leon saw Dana from a distance, leading a group of tall, burly men to welcome him at the door.
Some of them had appeared on TV.
He quickly recognized that these people were not bodyguards but UFC fighters.
"Welcome to Las Vegas!" Dana grinned from ear to ear, coming up for a bear hug.
"Thanks, man, but you didn't need such a big scene next time."
"Haha, this is the highest standard of reception in UFC, exclusive for tough guys!" Dana led Leon inside.
The fighters around them started whispering to each other.
The last person to receive such a high-standard reception from Dana was Donald, the president of the Trump Organization and a famous real estate tycoon.
He had helped once when this company was in crisis.
Inside the conference room, accompanying the meeting were Dana's assistants and a group of UFC fighters.
Featherweight King José Aldo, "The Bad Boy" Tito Ortiz...
There was also a female fighter named Ronda Rousey.
Whether it was because their boss Dana was present or because they had long heard of Leon's street reputation, these fierce generals who conquered the octagon behaved exceptionally reserved and polite.
Especially Ronda; she kept a brilliant smile on her face, intentionally or unintentionally leaning towards Leon.
Phil let out a wretched laugh, whispering a reminder: "That girl is an Olympic Judo bronze medalist... very good at ground techniques."
"Once she targets you, she'll slowly choke you out like a python."
Leon rolled his eyes at him, signaling him to shut up.
Since becoming recognized in the industry as a "Gold Medal Producer" and "Hit Machine," he was surrounded by girls harboring star dreams wherever he went.
Sports and entertainment are not separate; as an athlete, Ronda wasn't bad-looking.
Compared to smashing heads and bleeding in the octagon, no girl didn't want to enter the entertainment industry to make quick money.
Dana opened the meeting outline prepared in front of him. "After multiple discussions by the company's senior management, we plan to hold the first BMF title fight within three months. What do you think?"
Generally speaking, UFC organizes a major event about half a year in advance.
To leave enough window for promotion, and fighters also need sufficient preparation time.
The reason Dana arranged the fight so soon, even at the cost of disrupting the originally scheduled match schedule, was to maximize the use of Leon's current traffic.
In case time dragged on too long, and Leon's heat dropped or he got taken out on the street, the BMF gimmick would be greatly discounted.
Leon had no objection to this. "You guys are the professionals, just handle it."
"Do you have any ideas about the candidates for the first BMF title fight?" Dana asked.
"Are you asking me?" Leon was a bit surprised, not expecting to have such great authority.
Generally, fighter matchups were controlled personally by Dana and the matchmakers.
Matchmaking symbolized Dana's royal power.
If a fighter made him unhappy, he would tamper with the matchmaking, ensuring the other party never fought a match that made big money.
"Of course, BMF is mine, but it's even more yours," Dana said. "We will fully respect your ideas."
Leon pondered in his head for a long time but couldn't think of a suitable candidate.
Looking at the current situation of the UFC league, not a single person completely fit the "Baddest Motherfxxker" label.
The traces of martial artists on them were too heavy, lacking the wildness and passion of the old school era.
In the late 90s, many people participating in such competitions were not professional athletes, and many hadn't even systematically practiced fighting.
Among that group were street thugs, movers, nightclub bouncers, underground boxers...
Techniques were rough, but it was thrilling to watch.
"How about Rampage Jackson and The Bad Boy Ortiz?" Leon held back for a long time before finally spitting out these two names.
Both were Light Heavyweight fighters, famous for their explosive fighting styles and lack of filter.
They had both strength and gimmicks.
Apart from these two, he really couldn't think of any suitable candidates.
Dana tapped the table with his pen, smiling as he said, "Just like we thought! There are no better candidates than these two bastards~"
Tito Ortiz happened to be in the conference room, and hearing this news, he instantly couldn't close his mouth from smiling.
He spoke in broken Brazilian-accented English: "I knew tough guys always attract each other. You know who the real tough guy is here, Bro~"
Other fighters cast jealous glances at him.
As long as they could participate in this fight, win or lose, the money wouldn't be small.
Only Ronda didn't care at all about what was happening in the meeting, leaning towards Leon like a fangirl.
"What does this woman want?" Leon felt very uncomfortable.
Until reminded by a "cough" from Dana, Ronda finally settled down.
Just as both sides were about to finalize this matter, a tall, thin black young man stood up.
"I disagree!" He slammed the table and scanned the crowd. "Except for Leon and Dana, everyone in this room is a fxxking soft egg!"
The black kid was Jon "Bones" Jones, who won the Light Heavyweight Championship in March of this year.
At 24, he was crowned the youngest champion in the league's history.
"What..." Dana looked at Jon in surprise; in his impression, the other party was a good baby.
Born into a middle-class black family, stepfather was a pastor, two brothers were football players.
Black people in the fighting world were almost all like Tyson, born from the streets.
Jon was almost like an angel baby among a group of villains.
Facing the young man's insult, Tito immediately stood up and mocked, "Shut up, bastard, or I'll kick your ass."
"You can try, Brazilian mutt... I'll twist your head off within one round," Jon didn't back down at all.
He needed this opportunity too much.
Even though he had become the UFC Light Heavyweight Champion, his current heat was still crushed by a group of seniors in this weight class.
Heat meant PPV sales, and sales meant money.
He had to fight for such an opportunity.
"Puta (Btch)!" Tito was so angry he spewed his native language, and the two looked like they were about to brawl.
"Stop it, you bastards! Do you want to embarrass yourselves in front of the guest?!"
Dana slapped the table hard, and the scene instantly quieted down.
"The internet comments say you are the person who breaks up fights the most times in the world, which is indeed very accurate," Leon quipped.
"Fxxk, which idiot said that?" Dana shook his head and laughed helplessly. "Regarding the fight card issue, we'll take Mr. Leon's suggestion as the standard."
"Jon, you are still young and need to settle..."
Even though the president said so, Jon was still unwilling. "Give me some time, I will prove who the real bastard is! Who deserves this BMF belt!"
Dana's face changed suddenly.
Obviously, he was very annoyed by Jon's lack of situational awareness.
Just as Dana was about to lash out, Leon spoke first.
He stared at Jon with interest: "How are you going to prove you're a bastard? I mean, shouting slogans and spewing trash talk on social media won't cut it."
"I will prove it... believe me Bro, my mom has said I was a bastard since I was little." Jon's answer made everyone laugh and cry.
"Sit down quickly..." With his fighter acting foolish, Dana also blushed with embarrassment.
"Give him a chance," Leon said.
"What?!" The faces of everyone present changed suddenly.
Jon was also a bit confused; he didn't expect his few words to really win him a glimmer of hope.
Leon continued, "Give him a chance. You know, Rampage Jackson's heat is not what it used to be."
Dana fell silent, hesitating to agree.
Leon patted his shoulder: "Man, you have to respect him. Jon is the current champion after all."
"Look at his body proportions; this ngga was born for fighting."
As the face of BMF and a current top star, Dana couldn't ignore Leon's face.
After a full minute, he gritted his teeth and said, "I have to say, you look more like the president of this company than I do."
Facing this sarcastic reply, Leon spread his hands and said, "Everything is for our mutual benefit."
"Alright... but I have a condition." Dana forced a smile.
"What condition? Let's hear it."
"At the first BMF fight, you have to perform a song live..." Dana paused for two seconds. "And it has to be for free!"
"No problem~" Leon agreed readily.
The subsequent signing process was quite smooth, and the cooperation between the two parties was officially finalized.
Just as Leon walked out of the UFC building under Dana's escort, a tall, thin black shadow quickly followed.
It was Jon Jones.
Jorge and his crew guarding the business van instantly tensed up.
In Nevada, one can openly carry guns in any public place.
With less than a second of reaction time, the bodyguards simultaneously put their hands on their waists.
"Wow, relax Bro..." The young champion quickly raised his hands.
"Don't touch the guns, he's my friend," Leon commanded.
"What a bunch of terrorists..." Jon put his hanging heart down, walking up to Leon and thanking him repeatedly.
Without Leon, he couldn't have gained Dana's favor on his own.
Leon patted Jon's shoulder.
Although he was three years younger than the other party, he acted like an elder brother.
"Seize this opportunity, don't let me down..."
"Remember, if there is no heat, create heat..."
"Whatever the audience likes you to be, you become that."
"A persona, it's all about acting."