Chapter Nineteen: The Lone Wolf Mentality

Do you know your teammates’ names? After raising this question, Lu Jinrong watched as Lu Suo’s eyes seemed distant, as if he were daydreaming. He felt certain he’d hit on the boy’s weakness. That’s right—after more than half a month on the team, apart from his roommate Tian Shiwei, this kid probably couldn’t remember a single other teammate’s name. What a solitary mindset.

In truth, Lu Suo was flipping through his status panel, searching for the names of his 4x100 relay teammates, aside from Tian Shiwei. One was Wang Peng, another was Lin Lishuo—both about Lu Suo’s age. The third, whom Lu Suo had replaced, was Xu Taiming, a veteran member.

Lu Suo could answer the coach’s question now, but there was little point. The mere existence of the question meant that naming two people wouldn’t be enough to resolve it.

Should I be paying more attention to my teammates… if the coach insists I train for the 4x100… Lu Suo pondered.

He wasn’t, as Tian Shiwei imagined, a bit of a recluse. He had no psychological issues; it was just that, with the pressure to change his life through running at this particular juncture, he felt as if he were in the midst of an intense race, his vision narrowed so that only the track, only the goal remained in his eyes.

If achieving that goal required making friends, Lu Suo could do it. Besides, if joining the 4x100 relay meant placing at the provincial games, the status panel said that achievement would earn an attribute point—whether invested in agility or strength, it would be worth nearly a week’s effort.

…

That afternoon, before practice, Lu Suo sought out Wang Peng and Lin Lishuo, politely addressed them by name, shook their hands, and said pleasantly, “Since the coach has arranged it, let’s give it our all together!”

It couldn’t be said that Lu Suo was more shrewd than these other young men, but he was certainly better at controlling his emotions. After all, from childhood he’d had no family, no parents to shield him from life’s storms—he’d always had to weather them himself.

Following Lu Suo’s gesture, his two teammates felt a trace of embarrassment mingling with their antagonism; though their practice was still awkward, it was clear they could carry on together.

At that moment, Lu Jinrong adopted a different tactic, bringing in Xu Taiming, the 25-year-old veteran whom Lu Suo had replaced, as a substitute. He sternly informed all four relay runners, Lu Suo included:

“You’re just practicing for the 4x100. This doesn’t mean you’re the official candidates. If anyone slips up, you’ll be replaced!”

Then the coach swapped Xu Taiming in for Wang Peng. This change was crucial—the moment it happened, all the antagonism vanished. When even a small group is split into those “in the running” and those “out,” a kind of class division unsettles everyone, and all start to focus seriously, no longer deliberately making mistakes.

Coach Lu Jinrong watched his sweat-soaked young athletes with the barest hint of a smile. You bunch of snot-nosed kids want to play at mutiny? You’re a long way off yet. Just as the Monkey King could never escape the Buddha’s palm, neither could the sprinters escape Lu Jinrong’s grasp—a simple strategy had them all firmly in line.

Next, the coach replaced Lu Suo with Wang Peng again. Everyone understood this was a “protective substitution”—the coach likely did intend for Lu Suo to compete in the provincial 4x100 relay—but they still breathed a sigh of relief. The coach was giving them some face, after all.

As the day’s training ended, the athletes began their stretching routines in the gym. They were used to helping each other with leg presses—a form of stretching that used external force to loosen tensed muscles, preventing them from becoming as slack and lifeless as overused rubber bands, which would increase the risk of injury.

Leg presses were a mix of pleasure and pain. As some teammates pressed each other’s legs and cried out in mock agony, Lu Suo started using his own stretching routines—moves he’d developed himself, which the status panel had proven more effective.

At that moment, the coach set a package down on the gym floor.

“What’s that, coach?” a curious athlete asked, opening the bundle to find a pile of gleaming stainless steel tools, somewhat resembling the blades beneath roller skates.

“Fascial knives—part of a batch of training equipment imported from abroad, just distributed. Give them a try,” the coach said.

The city’s sports committee was committed to raising the level of athletic competition, aiming to make the city a powerhouse in sports. They frequently imported advanced equipment and training methods from overseas, and this was one of those instances.

“How do you use this…?” a teammate asked, turning a fascial knife over in his hands.

There were six knives in the set, all different, looking more like exotic weapons from a martial arts film than anything designed for human use.

“I’ll show you. Lu Suo, come here,” the coach called, seeing Lu Suo off by himself.

Lu Suo approached. “Lie down, legs straight.”

He complied, and the coach took a knife that resembled a small saw, placed the blade at the top of Lu Suo’s thigh, and scraped it down to his calf, demonstrating as he went: “You need to use enough force, move steadily downward. You should feel the muscle fibers breaking up under the blade…”

Damn! The instant the blade touched him, Lu Suo’s whole body tensed, and he let out half a scream, then bit his cheek, determined not to lose face, eyes wide and body trembling like a fish being slaughtered.

The other athletes burst out laughing at the sight. Then they began experimenting themselves, scraping their teammates’ legs with knives large and small.

Soon, every athlete subjected to the fascial knife was howling like a banshee, some even writhing on the floor from the sensation, and the gym took on the chaotic air of a medieval torture chamber. But the more it hurt, the better it felt.

At least, Lu Suo had already survived the worst pain; now he was in the enjoyable phase. It was like lowering yourself into a scalding bath—endure the initial agony, and soon enough you could savor the heat soaking into your bones and muscles. The steadily rising “endurance” value on his status panel proved that, painful as it was, this equipment really worked.

As the coach scraped his leg, he said, “Lu Suo, you should get along well with your teammates. They’re all good kids, really—not a bad one among them.”

Something stirred in Lu Suo’s heart. He turned to look at the coach, but under the overhead lights of the gym, Lu Jinrong’s face was a little hard to see. Even so, there seemed to be a warm aura radiating from him…