Chapter 47: The Twin Dragons of Peng City

Three days later.

Rousseau once again joined the team’s training sessions.

Currently, his stats stood at Agility: 39, Strength: 33, with 3 spare attribute points, and two skills: “Burst” and “Acceleration.”

Since it was already proven that the two skills couldn’t be used simultaneously, Rousseau decisively abandoned “Burst” to focus solely on “Acceleration.”

This choice made perfect sense—after all, “Burst” was inherently linked to the high jump. Forcing it into use for sprints, combined with a successful start, was the only reason he managed to run the 100 meters in 10.49 seconds, nearly fainting as a result. Clearly, this was a self-destructive tactic, unsuitable for sprinting.

The “Acceleration” skill, on the other hand, was quite interesting—its stamina consumption alone set it apart from “Burst.” “Burst” was a one-off expenditure, lasting only a second. “Acceleration” consumed one point of stamina per second, continuing until the race ended, with its stacking effect increasing over time—a fascinating mechanic. What did that make Rousseau think of? Of course, with “Acceleration,” he could run the 200 meters now.

At a rate of one stamina point per second, running 400 meters would still be a stretch, but for 200 meters, it posed no problem at all. In fact, Rousseau could likely run the second 100 meters faster than the first, thanks to the cumulative effect of “Acceleration.”

However, before he could suggest practicing the 200 meters, he first needed to address the issue of syncing his physical condition with the “Acceleration” skill.

The human body is a marvelously intricate machine; every muscle’s readiness and movement, and the nervous system’s responses under the brain’s command, all follow established patterns. An athlete’s training is about fixing this pattern and then optimizing it, again and again.

Switching to a new skill meant Rousseau essentially adopted a new way of running—his body and mind both needed to adapt afresh.

Moreover, his next training goal was to balance his Strength and Agility stats, which was essential for making the most of “Acceleration.”

…

A week later.

Rousseau’s 100-meter time had returned to under 11 seconds.

But he still hadn’t approached the peak condition of his record-breaking 10.49 seconds at the Provincial Games.

Coach Lu Jinrong, however, was in no hurry. After all, an athlete’s form rises and falls, and Rousseau was still gradually “speeding up.”

It was Tian Shiwei who was growing impatient. He thought of himself as a “big occasion” athlete—in other words, he ran faster when pressed by competition, but when left unchallenged, his performance became lackluster. Lu Jinrong saw this as a psychological issue, but Tian Shiwei blamed Rousseau instead.

…

Eleven days after the Provincial Games.

During the usual afternoon training session,

Rousseau and Tian Shiwei raced each other.

Rousseau clocked 10.72 seconds; Tian Shiwei, 10.70.

Rousseau was quite satisfied with this. The “Acceleration” skill was steadily improving his 100-meter performance, and he felt increasingly at ease while running.

But Tian Shiwei, staring at the timing board, frowned deeply.

“Old Lu, you’ve really got to step it up,” Tian Shiwei said to Rousseau. “Otherwise, people will think our results at the Provincial Games were just a fluke.”

“Who would think that?” Rousseau countered.

“Our rivals, of course—the one from the capital, and the two from Hubei and Sichuan. With your current results, there's not much to show for it,” Tian Shiwei replied.

“There are still over three months till the National Games. Why are you so anxious? And even more, why are you anxious on my behalf? If you want a fast time, just run it yourself,” Rousseau found his concern odd.

“You mean you still don’t know?” Tian Shiwei suddenly said.

Rousseau looked at him in surprise.

Tian Shiwei wore a mysterious smile, as if he knew some secret he was reluctant to share.

The two were walking toward the cafeteria, training over and dinner time approaching. Seeing Tian Shiwei’s expression, Rousseau didn’t press further; he knew Tian Shiwei couldn’t keep a secret for long—at most a minute before he’d spill it.

Sure enough, before they even reached the cafeteria doors, Tian Shiwei couldn’t hold it in.

“The East Asian Youth Games,” Tian Shiwei said. “Only athletes aged 14 to 18 can compete. I happen to be 18 this year.”

“I know about the East Asian Youth Games, but aren’t you 19?” Rousseau was puzzled. Tian Shiwei had joined the provincial team at 14, trained for five years—shouldn’t he be 19?

“I haven't passed the date on my ID yet. My birthday’s later. Anyway, that’s not the point—the point is, we both qualify,” Tian Shiwei said.

“And? Didn’t the selection for the East Asian Youth Games end ages ago? You weren’t picked then, right?” Rousseau asked.

“Times have changed,” Tian Shiwei said. “I’ve got the latest news—someone dropped out of the sprint team for the East Asian Youth Games, so they're searching nationwide for eligible athletes. But since the age limit is 14 to 18, it’s hard to find candidates.”

Indeed, most top-performing sprinters in the country were around 20 years old—those under 18 were rare.

This news... was quite interesting.

Rousseau’s eyes lit up. He realized this was an opportunity, but then his thoughts turned—his current 100-meter time still hadn’t returned to 10.49 seconds. That probably wouldn’t meet the national team’s selection standard yet.

“If the national team is short of people, how do they pick replacements? By open selection across the country?” Rousseau asked.

“That’s how they did it last time, but with only a month and a half before the Games, they won’t have the time or energy for a major selection process. It’ll probably be through coach recommendations from each region,” Tian Shiwei explained.

“Pan Kai is over 18 now, right?” Rousseau suddenly asked.

“Yeah, he was born in ’84—20 this year,” Tian Shiwei replied.

“What about Lv Pei and Zhang Zhen...?” Rousseau pressed.

“Lv Pei is 19, so he’s over too. Zhang Zhen is 16 and already on the team,” Tian Shiwei said.

The rivals that Coach Lu Jinrong had specifically warned Rousseau and Tian Shiwei about—they pretended not to care, but in reality, they knew their backgrounds inside out. After all, these would be their main competitors at the National Games four months from now.

“We should go for it...” Rousseau mused.

Opportunities to compete in international events were rare for athletes. Making the national team was a tremendous opportunity—training and competition were worlds apart, and every major event was a chance to improve. Rousseau had come late to professional track and field; if he wanted results, he couldn’t afford to miss a single step.

“I bet coach is already working his connections,” Tian Shiwei said.

“How do you even know that?” Rousseau looked at him with admiration—what a little news hawk.

“Of course I know. I’m pretty sure we’ll get a trial opportunity. Then we can show off in the national team, crush Zhang Zhen, and let everyone see the might of the Twin Wolves of Peng City Sprint!” Tian Shiwei thrust out his hand and made a firm fist, signaling his confidence.

“Twin Wolves of Sprint? Where’d that nickname come from? I don’t accept it!” Rousseau realized he’d been saddled with a bizarre and ugly moniker and immediately shook his head.

“Twin Fiends, then?” Tian Shiwei offered.

“Isn’t that a villain’s title?” Rousseau replied.

“Twin Eagles?”

“Better, but still not quite heroic.”

“Twin Dragons?”

“Now that sounds reliable.”