Chapter Thirty-Seven: A Head Start Achieved

Provincial Games, 100-meter final.

Before crouching at the starting blocks, Rousseau swept his gaze across the neighboring lanes, sizing up the competition. These nine athletes had all been handpicked from the province’s sixty-eight sprinters—each one capable of running the hundred meters in under eleven seconds.

Most noteworthy were Xu Zhiqiang in lane four, representing Team Yangcheng, and his own teammate Tian Shiwei in lane five.

The status panel could only simulate Rousseau’s own state. He could deduce, from his two false starts, that someone would jump the gun, but it couldn’t predict victory or defeat.

He glanced at the prompt in the panel:

“You are in a very important 100-meter final. Beside you are both the rival you’ve always wanted to defeat and powerful adversaries from Team Yangcheng. Your choices are: 1. False start; 2. Taunt them; 3. Use ‘Burst’ skill; 4. Break their legs (unlikely).”

Option… 1?

“You failed the false start.”

But there was still one more chance. If the second attempt failed as well, Rousseau would have to be careful—one more and he’d be disqualified.

Try again—1.

“You succeeded on your second false start.”

Huh?

Rousseau was momentarily stunned, then elated. An excellent omen.

Next, option 3.

“You choose to use ‘Burst’ at the 45-meter mark.”

Again, option 3.

“You choose to use ‘Burst’ at the 75-meter mark. Your body enters a weakened state.”

Again, option 2.

“You begin taunting everyone. Xu Zhiqiang in lane four is affected. Tian Shiwei in lane five is affected. Zhao Dalu in lane six is affected…”

The blow was too broad—hard to tell what effect it had.

One more time: option 2, targeting Tian Shiwei.

“You taunt Tian Shiwei. He’s angry now, so he’ll run even faster.”

Old Tian, here’s a buff for you.

…

The 100-meter final of the Provincial Games.

Under the gaze of 3,000 spectators at the stadium, and hundreds of thousands more watching the live broadcast on TV.

The race was about to begin.

The starter’s pistol fired.

Rousseau sprang forward ahead of the pack.

Bang! The second shot rang out.

A false start.

Trying that trick again, are you?

Tian Shiwei, in the adjacent lane, grinned smugly at Rousseau. Such a tactic would never work on a seasoned fighter—he’d come prepared.

As everyone returned to the starting line, Rousseau announced loudly enough for all to hear, “I’ll be honest with you all, none of you deserve to be anywhere but behind me, eating my dust. This 100-meter final? The championship is already mine.”

What?

The other athletes turned to Rousseau in shock.

They’d only ever heard of trash talk in basketball games.

Who would have thought someone would try it in the hundred meters?

Caught off guard by the unexpected jab, no one had time to think up a retort before they were back at the starting line. The starter signaled them to get ready, and as they crouched down, they were all seething with suppressed anger.

Tian Shiwei glared at Rousseau. As satisfying as the words were, why drag me into this…?

While crouching, Rousseau murmured to Tian Shiwei, “From today on, you’re no longer my target.”

“What do you mean?” Tian Shiwei was baffled.

“I’ve chased you for two months. From now on, you’ll be chasing me—and you’ll never catch up,” Rousseau replied.

Damn! So that’s what you meant… Tian Shiwei was so infuriated his head felt as if it were about to burst into flames. Rousseau was just too much—always belittling others in such a roundabout way, and at such a crucial moment. No, no, calm down, calm down, Tian Shiwei told himself, trying not to let his temper get the best of him, though a fire was already burning inside.

Because just then, the starter was already calling, “On your marks—”

…

Rousseau’s false start in the first round made Lu Xiaoyu, watching from the stands, clutch the landlord’s hand in anxiety.

“What happened?” the old man asked, confused as to why the athletes, who had clearly started running, suddenly stopped and walked back to the line.

“The referee said my brother jumped the gun. That means he started running before the pistol fired,” Lu Xiaoyu explained. She knew the rules—two false starts and you’re out, with no result.

“What’s the point of jumping the gun? He didn’t even move early!” the old man grumbled, annoyed. “All that speed wasted for nothing!”

His children all chimed in in agreement.

…

Meanwhile, on the sidelines, Shen Peng, director of the Pengcheng Sports Committee, stood with Lu Jinrong, coach of the Pengcheng sprint team.

“That boy did it on purpose,” Shen Peng remarked. “He seems to be very fond of this false start tactic.”

“Yes, he used it once in the semifinals too. But now, internationally, the 100-meter dash is starting to implement a ‘one and done’ rule—one false start and you’re out,” Lu Jinrong said.

Shen Peng was aware of this; rules in different competitions were always evolving, and his inside information was reliable. “But this new rule won’t apply to the Asian Games in 2006 or the 2008 Olympics.”

“Then we’ll have Rousseau practice this tactic thoroughly,” Lu Jinrong said.

“Absolutely. The kid’s got nerves of steel—a big advantage. We should make the most of it,” Shen Peng replied.

“Tian Shiwei, on the other hand, is a bit hotheaded,” Lu Jinrong added.

…

Bang!

The second shot sounded.

Tian Shiwei lunged out, head down.

But in the next instant, he realized not only was Xu Zhiqiang in the neighboring lane faster, but Rousseau was already half a body ahead.

Tian Shiwei was shocked. The guy had false started again—and succeeded!

Had he the presence of mind to consider it, Tian Shiwei would have been both astonished and impressed: in the provincial finals, Rousseau had the nerve to risk two false starts—and even succeeded once.

But now, Tian Shiwei had no time for such thoughts. All he could focus on was catching up.

For Rousseau, even from a probabilistic standpoint, after trying to false start at every recent race, it was bound to work eventually.

A successful false start could net him about 0.1 seconds—a difference of an entire stride. In the first ten meters, Rousseau was ahead of Tian Shiwei, gaining a slight advantage over the other seven athletes as well.

As the first ten meters passed, all nine runners transitioned from their starting positions to sprinting upright. The shorter athletes had already completed their acceleration phase and were beginning to overtake Rousseau, who was still accelerating.

At the 30-meter mark, Rousseau was overtaken. Xu Zhiqiang in lane four was now leading by a full stride.

Tian Shiwei, leveraging his polished technique and the potential unleashed by his anger, pulled alongside Rousseau. Given they were matched in height and weight, for Tian Shiwei to catch up during acceleration meant he was stronger than Rousseau in the first thirty meters.

Judging by countless prior simulations, the middle thirty meters should be dominated by Rousseau and Tian Shiwei. If they could catch up to the others during this phase, the final thirty meters would be their domain.

Now, Tian Shiwei and Rousseau were running neck and neck—Tian Shiwei even inching ahead, closing in on Xu Zhiqiang in lane four, who still maintained his lead. In a flash, the race was halfway through.

At this point, lane four was still leading, the other eight lanes were virtually even—but that meant the taller Rousseau and Tian Shiwei were in their element.

Glancing left and right, Tian Shiwei realized his only remaining rivals were Xu Zhiqiang to his left and Rousseau.

Just then, Rousseau suddenly accelerated.

Whoosh—

Tian Shiwei saw, out of the corner of his eye, someone surge ahead with explosive speed—instantly half a stride ahead, then a full stride, drawing level with Xu Zhiqiang.

Damn… Tian Shiwei knew Rousseau had a killer acceleration, but he’d always saved it for the final stretch. Why now, so early?

A sense of crisis forced out every ounce of latent potential.

For the inexperienced, a sudden burst meant reckless running—guaranteed to stumble. But a seasoned sprinter, in peak form, could wring every drop of energy from his body and produce miraculous results.

At that instant, Tian Shiwei gritted his teeth and caught up to Rousseau.

Thirty meters to go.

Now, Tian Shiwei—pushing himself to the limit—was hot on Rousseau’s heels, running shoulder to shoulder with Xu Zhisheng.

Xu Zhisheng, too, was draining every reserve of strength to stay ahead, but with similar stride frequencies, the taller opponents’ longer strides gave them the edge. Xu Zhisheng could only watch in despair as his rivals gradually overtook him.

Ten meters left.

Rousseau and Tian Shiwei surged ahead of Xu Zhisheng. The two tall figures led together, like twin stars racing side by side down the track, the remaining seven runners merely a backdrop.

At this moment, the grandstand erupted in thunderous applause and wild cheers. The crowd’s passion was fully ignited.

The 100-meter dash is the shortest event in the Provincial Games, and the one that most powerfully conveys the raw intensity and excitement of athletic competition. In a brief handful of seconds, a single blink and you might miss it. Every spectator kept their eyes glued to the track, not daring to look away.

They watched as the runners poured out their youth, their blood, and their passion on the track.

And saw them cross the finish line.

…

Before televisions across the province, countless eyes were fixed on this scene.

They listened as the commentator’s voice rose with excitement: “We see the runners in lanes three and five crossing the finish line with a difference so slight it’s almost impossible to discern with the naked eye! Who will be declared the winner?”