A Little Swim?

The wreckage of the second dynamometer smoldered, a silent mockery that stung the eyes of Karl Johnson and the members of the Beast Strength team he had brought with him. It also ignited the pride and passion of every Chinese person in the King of Strength Club!

After the dead silence came a frenzy of cheers and shouts, like a volcano erupting!

"Gong Shifu! You're incredible!"

"See that, foreigners? This is real Chinese strength!"

"'Sick Man of East Asia'? What a joke! Who's the weak one now?!"

The roar nearly lifted the roof off the club. Everyone's face shone with excitement and vindication as they gazed at Gong Gong with fervent admiration.

Karl's face turned liver-red, the veins on his forehead throbbing. Deep humiliation mingled with a hint of fear he couldn't explain. He couldn't believe what he'd just witnessed. The mangled dynamometer kept replaying in his mind, reminding him that the seemingly burly man from the East possessed a terrifying strength beyond his comprehension.

"You lost the first round." Gong Gong's voice struck like cold stone, shattering Karl's last hope. His bloodshot eyes swept over Karl and the team members behind him, whose faces had gone just as pale. His contempt was unmistakable. "What's next? Arm wrestling? Or should we go straight to that ring?"

He pointed to the strength-testing platform nearby and the fighting ring in the center.

The translator nervously relayed Gong Gong's words.

Karl gritted his teeth and forced down his trepidation. He could blame his failure in the punch test on a faulty machine or some unknown trick the other man had used—though he didn't believe that himself. But arm wrestling and fighting were tests of physical strength, plain and simple! He refused to believe this man from the East could pull any tricks against his superior strength and extensive combat experience!

"Arm wrestling!" Karl all but growled. He would use the event he excelled at most to reclaim his dignity! Even if his opponent had an incredible punch, Karl was one of the world's top strongmen. He would never lose in a pure test of static strength!

A specially reinforced arm-wrestling table, built to withstand immense force, was quickly carried to the center. Its thick metal supports and sturdy tabletop showed just how seriously the contest was being taken.

Karl and Gong Gong sat on opposite sides of the table.

Karl took a deep breath and removed his jacket, revealing a torso of sharply defined, rock-hard muscle. He rolled his impossibly thick arms and shoulders, planted his elbow firmly on the tabletop pad, and extended a hand big enough to crush bricks.

Gong Gong remained as casual as ever. He even yawned before slowly offering his right hand. It was a full size larger than Karl's, with thick knuckles and bronze-colored skin. It looked rough, but a subtle sheen seemed to flow across it.

Their mismatched hands clasped tightly.

"Begin!" Qin Tian, acting as the referee, called out in a deep voice.

The moment the word left Qin Tian's mouth, Karl unleashed all his strength! Every muscle in his body tensed, the veins standing out like coiling dragons. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he tried to crush Gong Gong's arm with a thunderous burst of force! It was his usual strategy: overwhelm his opponent with explosive power.

But it felt as if he were gripping not a hand, but an ancient mountain! An unfathomably deep ocean! No matter how hard he drove his strength forward in successive waves, Gong Gong's arm didn't budge. He didn't even seem to tense his muscles!

Gong Gong's hand stood steady, as if Karl's strength—enough to flip a car—were no more than a gentle breeze.

The color drained from Karl's face, and his eyes filled with incredulous horror. It was impossible! His strength ranked among the best in the world. How could he fail to make his opponent so much as twitch?!

Gong Gong glanced at Karl's face, twisted with exertion, and pursed his lips in boredom. "That's all you've got? The iron box from earlier"—the dynamometer—"put more pressure on me than you do."

Before he'd finished speaking, he began to slowly and steadily press Karl's hand back.

There was no sudden burst of force, no roar. He simply pressed forward with calm, absolute control, forcing Karl's thick arm inch by inch toward the tabletop, with no chance of resistance.

Karl's face turned crimson. The veins bulged in his neck as he poured all his strength into resisting. He even gripped the edge of the table with his other hand, while the floor creaked beneath his braced feet. Still, he couldn't stop the slow, despairing descent.

He felt as if he were fighting the gravity of the entire planet! The sheer difference in strength filled him with terror and despair to the depths of his soul.

Thud!

Karl's arm was slammed onto the padded tabletop. He'd lost without a shred of suspense.

Silence fell again, but this time it was charged with suppressed excitement and satisfaction.

Karl slumped in his chair, gasping for breath, his eyes vacant as if his soul had left his body. The strength he'd always taken pride in seemed laughable beside his opponent's.

"You lost the second round, too." Gong Gong released his hand as if brushing off a speck of dust. "Now there's only that ring left."

He stood and looked toward the fighting ring in the center. His gaze was like that of a primordial beast eyeing prey it could maul at will.

Karl jerked his head up. When he saw the cold look in Gong Gong's eyes, a chill shot from the soles of his feet to his scalp! Get in the ring? Fight this monster for real? He might as well ask to die! He had no doubt that a single punch from Gong Gong could turn him into a corpse.

Fear swept over him like an icy tide, drowning every ounce of pride and fighting spirit.

"N-no more! I give up! I give up!" Karl shouted in terror in English, waving his hands and shrinking back without meaning to.

The translator relayed his words with a pale face.

He'd given up?

A world-class strongman had lost his nerve before the fight even began, and surrendered outright?

The club fell silent for a moment, then erupted in even louder laughter and scornful jeers.

"Chickened out? Already?"

"You were so cocky earlier! What happened to 'Sick Man of East Asia'?"

"Get out of here, foreign trash!"

Overwhelmed by humiliation, Karl and his teammates wished the ground would open up and swallow them.

Gong Gong frowned, apparently displeased that Karl had given up. He hadn't even warmed up yet. He stepped forward, closing in on Karl, and spoke in a cold voice. "You surrender? Fine. Kneel, kowtow, and apologize."

He remembered their earlier agreement.

Karl looked up at Gong Gong, who seemed to loom over him like a mountain, and was scared out of his wits. Not a trace of his earlier arrogance remained. Faced with overwhelming strength and the threat of death, dignity and pride meant nothing. He scrambled out of his chair and dropped to his knees with a thump. Facing Gong Gong and the angry Chinese people around him, he stammered in broken Chinese:

"I-I'm sorry! I was wrong! I shouldn't have said... said those things! You're not sick men! I am! I'm useless! Please... let me go!"

As he spoke, he kowtowed again and again, his forehead striking the floor with hollow thumps.

The teammates he'd brought with him also lowered their heads, their faces ashen.

Seeing Bear, who had been so arrogant moments ago, now kneeling and begging like a beaten dog, the people in the club felt a jumble of emotions: satisfaction, vindication, and an indescribable sense of wonder.

Only when Gong Gong saw Karl banging his forehead against the floor did some of the coldness and anger leave his eyes. He gave a cold snort. "Get lost! Don't let me see you again!"

Karl looked as if he'd been pardoned. With his teammates helping him, he fled the club in utter disgrace, drawing a chorus of triumphant cheers and jeers from behind.

Once the commotion died down, Gong Gong once more became the center of attention, basking in the treatment of a hero. Manager Wang excitedly announced a discount on everything that night, and the club's atmosphere reached a fever pitch.

Yet Lin Fan's unease only grew stronger. The more inhuman Gong Gong's strength seemed, the more dangerous the attention it drew. Today's challenger had been out in the open, but what about the forces lurking in the shadows, watching like venomous snakes? And who stood behind the mysterious person who had filmed Gong Gong's fight with a miniature camera?

He walked to the window and watched Karl's convoy hurry away below, his expression grave.

Just then, his phone vibrated. A text had arrived from an unknown number. It was brief, but his pupils contracted sharply as he read it:

"Impressive performance. 'Sample' value has risen again. 'Recovery' plan: countdown initiated."

Lin Fan looked up sharply and warily scanned the room. The club was packed with excited people, and nothing seemed out of the ordinary.

But he knew the eyes hidden in the darkness had never looked away.

What they didn't know was that in an office building diagonally across from the King of Strength Club, a figure in a black trench coat, face hidden beneath a hood, was silently watching everything inside through high-powered binoculars. When the figure saw Gong Gong's inhuman strength and Karl begging on his knees, a cold smile curled beneath the hood, like that of someone who had just spotted prey.

The figure spoke into an earpiece in a low voice:

"Target 'Giant Strength' confirmed to possess extremely high research value and threat level. Recommend raising 'Recovery' priority. Also, monitoring shows close ties with two other high-risk targets—Tong Tian and Nüwa. Request authorization to conduct deep infiltration reconnaissance of the 'Shelter.'"

A hoarse reply came through the earpiece:

"Authorization granted. Activate 'Dark Shadow.' Proceed cautiously and don't alert them. We need... more detailed data."

The figure in the trench coat lowered the binoculars and slipped into the shadows behind them like a ghost, vanishing without a trace.

A latent threat was creeping closer, like a dark cloud gathering overhead. Gong Gong and Lin Fan had just dealt with an external provocation, and they knew nothing of it. Beneath the club's celebration, the undercurrents were growing ever more turbulent.