Chapter 153: Budapest Athletics Open

The Three Musketeers of Pengcheng Sports Institute set off together for the 2005 IAAF Six Continents Tour. This was certainly an occasion worth celebrating. Thus, on the evening of the 11th, just before their departure, a farewell dinner was held—an intimate gathering of only four people.

At the dinner, Zheng Ni expressed a poignant sentiment, feeling as if she were the one being “sent off,” since they were the ones leaving.

Before their journey began, Shen Peng, representing the Pengcheng Sports Committee, visited Lu Suo and Lu Jinrong at the institute. He offered words of encouragement and praise.

Lu Suo’s recent performances in Hiroshima and Luxembourg—one first place, one second—had even earned a letter of thanks from the IAAF to the Pengcheng Sports Committee. These results far exceeded the city’s original expectations when approving the project. Shen Peng urged both Lu Suo and Lu Jinrong to keep up the good work and reach new heights.

“If your stamina allows, it would be good to compete in as many events as possible, letting the world see the spirit of our Chinese athletes,” he said. “As for funding, there’s no need to worry. The city is considering awarding Lu Suo additional financial bonuses as a reward.”

Currently, Lu Suo held endorsement deals worth several million, earned prize money in the tens of thousands of dollars, traveled first class, had all expenses covered, and now was offered extra bonuses from the sports committee—a situation that felt somewhat overwhelming.

While Lu Suo hesitated, Lu Jinrong shook Shen Peng’s hand firmly and expressed gratitude for the organization’s concern and encouragement.

Suddenly, Lu Suo recalled something—an issue about sharing his endorsements and prize money with Lu Jinrong and the Pengcheng Sports Institute.

Regarding endorsements, Lu Jinrong had never intended to claim any share from his protégés; even though Lu Suo’s endorsements had grown into the millions, this principle remained unchanged. Lu Suo had mentioned it several times, but Lu Jinrong consistently declined.

Concerning competition prize money, Lu Jinrong followed industry norms and took half. From the indoor invitational through Hiroshima and Luxembourg combined, the sum was roughly four to five hundred thousand. This was no small amount.

But given how much time Lu Jinrong spent traveling the world alongside Lu Suo, nurturing the nation’s top sprinter, this income was not excessive—certainly less than what national team coaches earned, whose main income came from sharing athletes’ endorsement deals.

Lu Suo felt this matter deserved resolution, possibly requiring discussion with Shen Peng.

The journey to Budapest required a transfer in Warsaw, totaling over twenty-four hours of travel. Avoiding an overnight flight would only extend the trip further, a grueling ordeal for all participating athletes worldwide. Consequently, no athlete attended every leg of the tour.

Lu Suo planned to accumulate enough points before awaiting the official July Golden Grand Prix schedule. Currently, he had 14 points from Hiroshima and Luxembourg combined. Based on past experience, scoring 40 points or more almost guaranteed entry into the Golden Grand Prix roster.

Tian Shiwei, meanwhile, had only 3 points—1 from Hiroshima and 2 from Luxembourg—still far from the 40-point mark.

“Silver-level events are more intense but offer more points,” Tian Shiwei analyzed with the newcomer Juno in the first-class cabin. “The bronze-tier competitions only score the top four, while silver can award points to the top twelve.”

“Right now, you have 3 points. Assuming two competitions per month until July, you probably won’t exceed 20 points,” Juno calculated, despite not being strong in math, her arithmetic was reliable.

“What do you mean I won’t exceed 20? I won’t improve?” Tian Shiwei retorted. “Can’t I get first or second? If I get second in Budapest, that’s 4 points, right?”

“That would complete the April target,” Juno said.

Tian Shiwei nodded but then frowned. “Old Zhu! What kind of talk is that?”

“Just joking~” Juno laughed and apologized.

Meanwhile, Lu Suo and Lu Jinrong reviewed the competitors’ list for the upcoming races.

In the Six Continents Tour, registered athletes might fail to attend due to various unforeseen circumstances. However, those not registered could not participate at all.

Scanning the list of 100-meter entrants, Lu Suo saw the names of a trio of bounty hunters—now reduced to a duo—and beyond them, no other notable adversaries.

“We still need to be cautious. These guys frequent low-tier tours and might resort to dirty tricks,” Lu Jinrong said upon seeing the names, recalling a coach named “LEE.” “I suspect that last time’s interference by that ‘homosexual’ was deliberate sabotage against you.”

Lu Suo was unbothered.

He had a status bar that allowed him to simulate the race in advance.

“If they want a clean fight, so be it. If they play dirty, I can be dirtier.”

Looking at the 200-meter roster, Lu Suo noticed a name and a time: “Usain, 19.93.”

Running 200 meters under 20 seconds? That was as impressive as running 100 meters under 10 seconds.

“This one... hmm, Usain?” Lu Suo was uncertain if he pronounced the name correctly. “19.93 seconds for 200 meters?”

Lu Jinrong introduced the Jamaican athlete briefly but with reverence. “This competitor’s trajectory resembles yours—same age, turned professional in 2004, and at the Caribbean Community Games that year, ran a remarkable 19.93 seconds in the 200 meters, the first youth ever to breach the 20-second barrier.”

Though the introduction was brief, the legend behind it required time to recount.

Of course, this Usain differed from Lu Suo in one crucial way: before 2004, Lu Suo had been a food delivery worker, whereas Usain was already semi-professional, winning gold in the 200 and 400 meters at just fifteen.

“Same age as me, and I can’t even break 20 seconds in the 200,” Lu Suo mused.

Thanks to his “acceleration” technique, running 200 meters under 20 seconds was somewhat easier for Lu Suo than breaking 10 seconds in the 100 meters. Still, anyone who could sprint 100 meters would rarely focus on 200 meters, which wasn’t even part of the Golden Grand Prix events.

So Lu Suo’s intent was merely to snag the 200-meter championship casually and gain some attribute points.

He hadn’t expected the global athletics scene to harbor such prodigies, even in a modest Budapest bronze-level competition.

The sub-20-second 200 meters remained beyond Lu Suo’s reach.

“If I can’t win the championship...” Lu Suo pondered whether to forgo the 200 meters but then laughed at the thought—if he couldn’t win, why not still compete? Witnessing the world’s athletic geniuses was a joy in itself.

But why wouldn’t this Usain run the 100 meters?

On the morning of April 12th, Lu Jinrong, Lu Suo, Juno, and Tian Shiwei arrived in Budapest.

The six-hour time difference with home caused their days and nights to invert.

Except for Lu Suo, the other three were very sleepy, while he kept telling “little white horse” jokes to keep their spirits up.

Watching Lu Suo’s boundless energy, Lu Jinrong couldn’t help but admire the boy’s exceptional talent and superb physical condition—no wonder he had achieved such astonishing results.

Yawning, utterly exhausted, Lu Jinrong stepped off the plane.