The richest actor in Hollywood.

As a recently risen professional film critic, Clifford Rothschild bore a rather illustrious surname. Unfortunately, this legendary name, rumored to control the world, did not bring him wealth or fame. To rise to the top quickly, he stood in the boxing ring today, ready to face that German jerk, the worst director in history.

"Don't panic, that guy is no stronger than you!" In the corner of the ring, the temporary coach hired by the critics shouted at Clifford Rothschild. "Uwe Boll is over forty; you're ten years younger. Just drag it out past the first round, and you'll win!"

He patted Clifford Rothschild's face guard. "Use it well, it's your advantage!"

Clifford Rothschild looked across at Uwe Boll, who was wearing black boxing gear without any headgear. The coach fitted him with a mouthguard. Clifford did some light joint exercises and glanced around, seeing cameras everywhere.

He knew he was already famous, but if he could knock down the insulting Uwe Boll, he'd become even more well-known.

Clifford had been a film critic for several years, known for his sharp critiques. Unfortunately, with the rise of the internet, the profession was in decline. He hadn't gained much fame and earned limited fees for his reviews.

Originally, he considered giving up until he encountered this rare opportunity.

Clifford heard about a top ten critic in the industry who gained fame by publicly kissing a donkey's butt. This became a role model for critics, showing that discarding pride could bring countless opportunities.

For Clifford, this wasn't difficult. Many critics, including himself, often didn't even watch the films they reviewed, writing whatever their employers or clients wanted.

Some lucky ones managed to make a name for themselves this way.

"Go, Clifford! Knock that jerk Uwe Boll down!" A man in his thirties cheered for Clifford Rothschild from the front row, directly in front of Matthew and Leonardo DiCaprio.

Leonardo, never one to shy away from excitement, shouted towards the ring, "Uwe, hit him hard! KO that jerk in the first round!"

The gymnasium was noisy, but Matthew and Leonardo's seats were in the second row, close to the ring. Uwe Boll seemed to hear them and glanced over.

Matthew cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, "Uwe Boll, I'm rooting for you!"

Uwe Boll clearly heard Matthew and Leonardo's voices and even smiled at them.

Since Uwe Boll could hear them, the people in the front row could too. Several turned around, including the thirty-something man who had been cheering for Clifford.

Elena Boyar glanced at these people and whispered to Matthew, "They should be critics."

Matthew nodded. "I figured."

Among them, he recognized a familiar face: Rex Reed, whom he'd dealt with before.

"Matthew Horner?" Rex Reed immediately recognized him.

"Hi, Rex," Matthew waved at him.

Leonardo DiCaprio looked curious. Matthew lowered his voice and explained briefly, "This famous critic once kissed a donkey's butt because of me."

"Oh," Leonardo exclaimed, "I heard about that."

Rex Reed looked at Matthew and asked, "If I heard correctly, you're supporting Uwe Boll?"

Matthew didn't deny it. "I know Uwe Boll, not the other guy. Of course, I'll support the person I know."

The thirty-something critic grumbled, "You're supporting such a lousy director?"

Before Matthew could respond, Leonardo said dismissively, "What's the problem? We're all in the film industry, of course we'll support our colleagues."

Leonardo's words left the critic speechless. Critics supporting critics and film professionals supporting film professionals seemed perfectly reasonable.

Matthew looked at Rex Reed and asked, "Who are you supporting?"

"Of course, the critic!" Rex pointed to the geared-up contestant, "Clifford Rothschild will definitely win!"

"Clifford Rothschild?" Matthew found the name strikingly grand.

In many online articles he had read, the name Rothschild was revered, said to be the masterminds controlling the world.

Whether true or not, he didn't know. But he figured this Clifford Rothschild likely had no real connection to the legendary family, otherwise, according to those articles, he wouldn't have ended up a film critic.

These thoughts flashed through Matthew's mind.

The critics, including Rex Reed, seemed united against him and Leonardo, looking at them with a hostile gaze.

The thirty-something critic said, "Made lousy films and can't stand criticism?"

"Of course you can criticize," Matthew replied naturally. "Once a film is released in theaters, everyone who watches it has the right to critique it. But this doesn't include insults and personal attacks."

Rex Reed added, "Our critiques are meant to ensure the industry develops healthily!"

His tone was uncomfortable, as if critics were the rulers of the film industry, while actors and directors were merely their parasites.

Leonardo couldn't help but say, "So Hollywood's current success is thanks to critics."

Matthew didn't want to argue. Critics were skilled with words, able to criticize directors and actors without using profanity.

While Uwe Boll wasn't a good director and his films were terrible, calling him the worst director ever was an exaggeration, though not entirely undeserved. Some critics' criticisms were quite fair.

Recently, due to the boxing match, Matthew looked into the feud between Uwe Boll and the critics. Aside from a few, most critics' reviews were not critiques but rather collections of non-profane insults.

This wasn't unique to Uwe Boll; Matthew had also faced similar treatment, though not as intensely. He never responded, but it didn't mean he was unaware. This was why, despite knowing Uwe Boll was terrible, he still cheered for him.

There's a sense of solidarity against a common enemy, evident from Leonardo and Tom Cruise's reactions.

"Rex," Matthew said to the most famous critic in front of him, "let's make a bet. I bet Uwe Boll will win, and you bet Rothschild will win. The loser has to publicly kiss a donkey's butt again."

Rex was stunned. He didn't expect Matthew to bring up old matters. But he wasn't the same Rex Reed from a few years ago. Back then, he needed attention to build his reputation. Now, he was one of the most famous critics in America...

And could Clifford Rothschild really beat the robust Uwe Boll?

Seeing Rex hesitate, Matthew added, "Are you worried Rothschild might lose? I'll make a concession. Uwe Boll has to fight four critics today. If he loses even one match, I lose."

With a hint of challenge, he asked, "How about it?"

Rex opened his mouth but didn't speak.

"We're sure to win with four against one!" the thirty-something critic urged, "Agree!"

Rex glanced at him but still said nothing.

Seeing Rex back down, the thirty-something critic said to Matthew, "I'll bet with you!"

"You?" Matthew showed the arrogance befitting a top Hollywood star, saying lightly, "You're not qualified to bet with me."

His words seemed natural, and neither Elena Boyar nor Bar Refaeli found it odd. An unknown small-time critic betting with a top Hollywood star? On what grounds?

At this moment, the referee entered the ring, summoning Uwe Boll and Clifford Rothschild to the center.

"No hitting below the belt!" The referee stated the rules. "No hitting the back of the head..."

Uwe Boll's face, sleazy yet muscular, broke into a smile. He had long awaited this moment. Critics liked to insult him, but hitting was far more satisfying.

The heated atmosphere of the impending showdown was palpable.

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