Chapter Fifty-Nine: Fury

October 18.

The fifth day of the tenth lunar month.

Auspicious for weddings, travel, moving, engagements, and business openings; inauspicious for livestock acquisition, hospital visits, logging, and beam construction.

The weather was clear, with a gentle breeze that, by estimation, did not exceed two meters per second—making it an ideal day for running and competition as well.

Lu Suo arrived at the training ground early.

After three full days of rest, his endurance had reached 90 out of 100—an exceptional state. The only regret was that, although his “strength” attribute was no longer marked in red, the word “limit” still hadn’t disappeared beside it.

40.00.

It seemed locked at this value.

Was it the limit of his life, not merely the limit of training?

Thinking back, since joining the professional team, Lu Suo had nearly doubled his strength attribute. The human body has its limits; perhaps it was only logical that he had reached his own.

If… if only Lu Suo had begun professional training earlier, surely that limit would have been higher?

He shook his head, dismissing the thought. Dwelling on an unchangeable fate was pointless.

He began to warm up.

As Lu Suo went through his warm-up routine, the other team members arrived at the training ground one after another.

With twelve days left before the East Youth Games, they should have been training with greater focus. Yet, the five young men seemed distracted, their attention only snapping back when Li Yan and Dong Zijian appeared, though their focus remained fixed on Li Yan and Lu Suo.

Clearly, they were all paying attention to that bet.

Li Yan, with his ever-present notebook in hand, was jotting something down. Looking up, he spotted Lu Suo in the lineup, his face registering a look of confusion, as if to ask, “Why are you here?”

Then realization dawned—after all, there were only six athletes on the team. Remembering the wager, he casually pointed at Lu Suo and told Dong Zijian, “Have Lu Suo run a 200-meter.”

“I need an opponent,” Lu Suo said; only with an opponent could he activate his status bar.

Li Yan nodded and turned his gaze to Chen Tianfu. Indeed, Chen Tianfu had always been the team’s best in the 200 meters—he was the perfect choice.

“I’ll race him!” Zhang Zhen volunteered, raising his hand.

“No, you’re too slow in the 200,” Lu Suo replied.

Zhang Zhen’s face flushed bright red, but he couldn’t dispute the fact.

So, Lu Suo and Chen Tianfu took their places at the starting line of the 200-meter track.

Li Yan sent the others off to run laps and stationed himself at the finish line with his stopwatch.

The whistle blew.

Lu Suo and Chen Tianfu burst from the start. During the first 20 meters, the acceleration phase, the two were neck and neck.

Chen Tianfu stood 1.75 meters tall, while Lu Suo was 1.82. After 20 meters, their stride length and frequency began to show a difference.

To Li Yan’s eye, Chen Tianfu had the better technique on the curve, but what was intriguing was that Lu Suo’s stride and cadence were still increasing, allowing him to pull ahead by a body length by the end of the curve, despite not having the technical advantage.

On the straightaway, Lu Suo accelerated further.

When the two athletes crossed the finish line, Li Yan pressed his stopwatch twice. He checked the numbers: “20.65” and “20.88”—a 0.23-second difference.

According to track and field standards, there’s typically about a 0.25-second difference between hand-timing and electronic timing. Factoring that in, Lu Suo’s time—who finished first—was 20.90 seconds; Chen Tianfu’s was 21.13 seconds.

Lu Suo had truly broken the 21-second mark.

Chen Yan glanced at the numbers without much reaction—just made a note in his notebook. But Dong Zijian, seeing both results clearly, grew visibly excited and exclaimed, “Lu Suo ran the 200 in under 21 seconds!”

…

Lu Suo really had done it.

The news, voiced by Dong Zijian, reached Chen Tianfu, Lu Suo’s test opponent, as well as the four athletes running laps on the track.

For Chen Tianfu, the team’s previous 200-meter record holder, the feelings must have been complicated.

Among those running laps, Tian Shiwei pumped his fist in the air with a loud “Aha!”—especially ecstatic.

Zhang Zhen’s face was one of shock and disbelief.

How could this be?

Indeed.

How could it be?

It was everyone’s question.

When Lu Suo first joined the team, his 200-meter time was 21.25 seconds. In just half a month, he’d improved by 0.35 seconds. That might sound small, but in competition, it was the difference between a first-round exit at the East Youth Games and qualifying for the final.

How had Lu Suo achieved this?

How was it possible?

…

Amid all these doubts, only Li Yan remained as calm as ever. He simply asked Lu Suo, “Again?”

All right. Lu Suo nodded, knowing that standard testing required three attempts, with two meeting the standard to count.

Again.

This time, the other athletes stopped their laps to watch Lu Suo and Chen Tianfu race.

The whistle sounded once more.

Lu Suo and Chen Tianfu shot out from the curve.

The final results matched the previous run.

Accounting for the timing discrepancy, Lu Suo finished in 20.92 seconds, Chen Tianfu in 21.11.

Lu Suo was a touch slower, Chen Tianfu a bit faster, but the results were essentially unchanged—and so was the significance: this was the threshold for making the 200-meter final at the East Youth Games.

Lu Suo walked up to Li Yan, a hint of provocation in his tone as he asked, “Want me to run again?”

In that moment, Lu Suo felt a surge of pride, justified at last.

You said I couldn’t do it.

But I did.

So? Will you admit it?

“Not bad. That’ll do,” Li Yan replied, with an air of indifference.

That’s it?

Lu Suo frowned.

“Coach, you promised me that if I broke 21 seconds, you’d let me compete in the 200 at the East Youth Games,” Lu Suo reminded him.

“And you promised, if you competed, you’d win a medal,” Li Yan replied, his face expressionless. “Need I remind you of the Japanese team’s 200-meter times?”

Lu Suo frowned. He couldn’t deny what he’d said…

“Coach, running 21 seconds in the 200 is already impressive…” Tian Shiwei interjected.

Li Yan glanced at Tian Shiwei.

In that instant, the world seemed to freeze.

After half a month under Li Yan’s “training,” Tian Shiwei felt a chill shoot down his scalp, icy dread burrowing into his bones.

“Did I tell you to stop?!” Li Yan’s gaze swept over all the sprinters who had gathered.

His tone was severe.

The athletes all jumped in fright.

So, along with Chen Tianfu, the five sprinters resumed their laps immediately.

Li Yan turned back to Lu Suo.

“Do you think, with your current times, you can win a medal for your country?” Li Yan asked Lu Suo again. “Is just making the final considered a victory? With a result like that, the newspapers won’t even mention you. You’ll still be a nobody, you won’t earn any ranking points from international events, and won’t qualify for higher-level world meets.”

“If that’s all, does it make any difference whether you compete at the East Youth Games?” Li Yan pressed on. “Whether you’re on this team or not doesn’t really matter; you did win the bet, but all you’ve earned is the right to stay on the team. If you want to compete, you’ll have to work even harder.”

Work harder…

How?

Lu Suo stared at his attribute panel, which had already reached the “limit,” and suddenly found himself overwhelmed by a surge of anger.