Almighty painter

Chapter 1068 The Other Side of the Boxing Ring

Ole Kluge walked briskly up the long steps in front of the headquarters building of the magazine "Painting".

Three years ago, it was widely rumored that Jeff Bezos, the former world's richest man, founder of Amazon, and famously bald, would spend $359 billion to buy Vogue magazine's parent company, Mediacorp, as a wedding gift for his fiancée.

His wife's photo, wearing a custom Dolce & Gabbana wedding dress, beat out a host of fashion spreads featuring top European and American supermodels and Oscar-winning actresses to become the cover photo for Vogue's July issue.

All of a sudden.

Fashion media and gossip shows around the world swooned over it, calling it the most expensive wedding gift in history, valued at $359 billion, and the most romantic wedding photo that embodies every girl's dream.

It is no coincidence.

Anna's "cousin" also graced the cover of Vogue. The week after she was rescued from a deserted island at sea by a helicopter, Vogue's art director and photography team rushed over to take a cover feature photo of Miss Elena.

It's worth mentioning that this isn't even the first time his cousin has received an invitation from a top fashion or beauty magazine. Several years ago, when she was only about sixteen years old, ELLE France invited her to appear on their magazine.

People like to find similarities between celebrities, and Anna is often compared to Bezos's wife.

Both are wealthy women, both have been cover girls for the same prestigious magazine, both work in the media industry, and both even started as journalists. Bezos's wife, Sanchez, was an entertainment journalist, while Elena Williams was an art journalist…

Every time I see those gossip news stories that put two issues of a magazine together...

Ole couldn't help but want to say—

“Hey, my cousin doesn’t need to spend $300 billion to get on the cover of Vogue magazine.”

then.

Mr. Kruger Jr. would often let out a heavy sigh, enveloped by negative emotions. A strong sense of failure, frustration, and humiliation surged towards him like waves, one after another, pushing aside each layer.

It can never be pushed away.

It cannot be driven away.

The abandoned look at the people in the photograph like an alcoholic looks at the wine in the painting.

No… it’s not the wine in the painting, but the wine in the crystal bottle. The wine in the painting is ultimately just an illusion; you know you can’t drink it.

It's not your fault if you can't drink it; seeing too much of it will only make you feel comforted.

But the wine in the crystal bottle is there; you watch it flow, watch it sparkle in the sunlight, and you can even smell the mysterious aroma that permeates the bottle.

It is not something illusory; it truly exists around you, and you may have even held it in your hands or picked it up.

Ole thought back to his childhood, to his godmother's house, to the crystal-like girl he would eat muffins on the lawn, read books together, and play the piano together—that idyllic, poetic life.

By the stream, accompanied by her nanny, Anna took off her gloves and handed them to him casually. She gracefully bent down to pick up pebbles from the clear stream and then handed them to him as well.

……

If anyone could take Ole back to that time.

He gave the other party one hundred million dollars. One hundred million dollars is nothing... If he had a choice, he would give the other party the entire Kruger Bank. If he could exchange it, he would be willing to... exchange it with "him".

He once thought he had it! He once thought it would belong to him!
Ten years, twenty years, fifty years.

He thought he had held that crystal bottle in his hands—the moment he held that pebble, soaked in the Alpine stream, in his palm. It was hard and cold to the touch, but the longer he held it, the more a faint warmth seeped out from it.

But he lost it all.

If that crystal bottle had been on the bookshelf next to you since you were born, you would have had more advantages than anyone else, yet you would still be unable to open it no matter how hard you tried.

Well... I'm sorry, I really can't find an excuse, so this is your fault.

Your cowardice, your incompetence, your helplessness are vividly reflected in the chestnut-colored wine; the more the other shines, the more life punishes you.

Your social circle, your friends, your father... the whole world treats you with disdain.

You worked so hard, you really worked so hard, you gave it your all to earn everyone's respect.

They always turn a blind eye.

You are Tandaros, standing between eternal wine and delicacies, yet bowing your head will cause the divine brew to fade, and reaching out your hand will cause the delicacies to vanish like bubbles.

You are Sisyphus, standing at the bottom of a slope, trying to push the boulder to the top of the mountain.

You are Ole von Kluge.

It is no coincidence.

Anna Elena graced the cover of Vogue, while Ole von Kluge acquired Painter magazine, a publication on par with Vogue. And did those media outlets know? It was on the very same day that Kluge Brothers Bank decided to enter the market with a substantial investment.

Ole descended upon Elena's estate like a prince on a white horse, proposing to his cousin. The shares held by the Austrian National Publishing Group were originally intended as their engagement gift.

Same plot.

What did Ole get?
humiliation.

The same scenario would prompt the media to enthusiastically compare Ms. Sanchez and Ms. Elena, but no one would compare Bezos and Ole, because there's no need for comparison.

People will gossip about Gu Weijing and his cousin, but they won't put his name together with Anna's.

Because he is a loser.

Because he was the most incompetent person.

This is a mark of shame, like a branding mark on your chest. You can try every possible way to cover it up, but it will still show after you've been slapped a few times.

No matter how well he does, how hard he works, or what achievements he makes, he is still an incompetent person. His cousin thinks he is incompetent, his father thinks he is incompetent, and even more frighteningly, he himself thinks he is a powerless failure.

Although perhaps, over the past seven years, Ole has earned no less money than Gu Weijing.

Give me a break.

Miss Elena is Gu Weijing's agent. Gu Weijing doesn't need to wear any striped tie or watch with many diamonds to prove that he is a "golden boy".

His cousin was beside him.

Gu Weijing didn't need to do anything to prove that he was stronger than Kruger.

In this life, who isn't fighting a boxing match? Who doesn't need to deliver a powerful left hook and right punch to someone's face to prove who they are?

Gu Weijing may have regarded Hunter Bull as his rival.

But Ole would say—

Hey, look here.

"Your opponent is me."

Ole looked up at the word "oil painting" written in German on the door of the magazine office.

He stood with his arms outstretched among the staff coming and going, like a vengeful angel spreading his wings.

Some people simply draw a few pictures and are respected, admired, and loved by people, so easily obtaining what they have always wanted.

This world is so unfair. Seven years have passed.

It's time for him to brand this shameful mark of Guizhou onto the hearts of others.
-
The entire four-story office building of the "Oil Painting" magazine has now been cleared out, and Ole has turned it into his boxing training hall and command center.

The last century.

As the war between American Mafia families intensified, the "I'll give him an irresistible price" approach was abandoned. Instead, they began communicating with Chicago typewriters and M1911s, rattling and banging away. This was all to facilitate taking down other families' leaders and prevent themselves from being shot down.

The family's higher-ups would then decide to "sleep on the mattress".

They rented a secret apartment as a base, laid out mattresses on the floor, and had dozens of strong men, from the leader, strategist, and family advisor to his gunmen, all sleeping on the mattresses.

They eat, drink, and relieve themselves all together every day.

When leaders decide to execute a rival, their underlings simply grab a gun and head out the door.

For Ole, this office building was much the same; they were facing not only a boxing match between him and Gu Weijing, but also a full-scale war between Kruger Brothers Bank, in conjunction with the "Painting" magazine, and the Elena family, in conjunction with the Maestro Gallery.

While Gu Weijing and his management team were having a party at a Michelin-starred restaurant in New York.

Ole made ample preparations.

He had already lived the life of a hermit for seven years and didn't care at all about living in the magazine office for another seven months.

"Let's go to the Starbucks next door and buy everyone a coffee, okay? It's on me." Ole casually called out to a young intern, took a bill from his wallet, and handed it to him.

"Of course, boss."

The intern nodded obediently.

"Wait a minute," Ole called out to the other person again.

"Your tie?"

"Sorry, sorry, sorry." The intern thought his tie wasn't tied properly and frantically tugged at the knot a couple of times.

Give me the tie.

"Ole said."

The intern started untying his tie in confusion again, then handed it to Ole.

"What's your name?"

“Poly, sir,” the intern said. “Poly Hayden.”

“Okay, Paul, I got it. I’ll get you a dozen new ties after this is all over.” Ole crumpled the other man’s tie into a ball and casually stuffed it into his pocket. “Now, relax. Do whatever makes you comfortable here, OK?”

"Thank you! Thank you, Boss..."

"Go ahead."

Ole patted the other person on the shoulder, then turned and walked into the office.

It's supposed to be an office.

Actually, it was originally a multimedia room inside the "Oil Painting" magazine. When the mafia held meetings, they messed up the mattresses and spread them on the floor, so everyone just lay down on the floor, and the boss worked inside.

People don't care about appearances, they only care about efficiency—whether they can defeat their opponents without being overwhelmed.

In this multimedia room, several desks were casually placed, and leaders from various departments could come to him at any time for brainstorming sessions.

Ole didn't care about appearances either.

He can go without eating, sleeping, or resting; he can greet new interns with a smile.

As long as he can win—he just wants to win.

When Ole pushed open the door and entered, the heads of the legal team, marketing team, public relations team, and buying team were already waiting there, along with a special guest.

"Look who's here? Our great hero, Hunter!"

"Mr. Bull, I thought you weren't coming today!"

Ole's face was filled with undisguised surprise. He clapped, and everyone in the room clapped.

Under everyone's gaze, Hunter Bull remained unmoved, as if he hadn't heard a thing, silently examining a plastic pen holder on the table.

"Speaking of which—I have a gift for you."

Ole turned around, sat on the table, and while speaking, opened the safe on the table and took out a wooden photo frame.

A newspaper was placed inside the wooden picture frame.

It was a weekly newspaper from southern France in the 1970s. On the fourth page of the newspaper, there was a small section, about the size of a tofu block.

The sign read, “Hunter Bull – Picasso said this young American art apprentice will one day shine like your Elvis.”

This is not an expensive gift.

How expensive can an old newspaper be?

When Japanese gallery agents want to curry favor with Kazunari Sakai, the most awkward thing is not knowing what to give him as a gift. Sakai's hobbies are well-known: yakitori, large cakes, and donuts.

The problem is that sending these things is too cheap and really pointless.

Hunter Bull is also a difficult person to please. Kazunari Sakai is a big fan of junk food, but as for Hunter Bull, you can hardly even figure out what he likes.

If he could say, like Picasso, "I like your hat," then it would be simple.

If you're going to take the route of treating subordinates with respect, then you have to go all the way. Since Ole was willing to give the intern a tie, he wouldn't mind staying up all night to fly to Paris and personally buy Hunter Bull a hat if he could keep this guy happy.

Money is not important.

The key is the intention.

My father said, "You should respect people like Hunter Bull."

This gift was the one Ole had spent ages choosing; money wasn't important, the thought was what mattered. For someone like Ole, going to such lengths to find this old newspaper was far more meaningful than pulling a gold watch or Porsche keys from a safe.

This newspaper is a testament to Hunter Bull's life.

“Hunter Bull—Picasso said that this young art apprentice from America would one day shine as brightly as your Elvis.”

Auler read aloud from the newspaper in French in front of everyone.

“I reckon you were already tired of hearing this 30 years ago. But I’ll say it again: you did it.”

"Hunter Bull, the best artist of our time, just as Picasso was the best artist of the last time."

"I believe your teacher will be very proud of you."

(End of this chapter)