At that moment, a hint of despair appeared on Park Bo-seong's handsome face.
It seemed that in the 100-meter event, as long as Wang Yi didn't make a major mistake, there was no way Park Bo-seong could win.
That dealt a heavy blow to the confidence Park Bo-seong had started with.
Just imagine: you're certain you'll win, then someone suddenly shows up with a time far ahead of yours, leaving you with no hope of catching up. How could you not be shaken?
Meanwhile, the Koreans who refused to accept defeat were still trying to comfort themselves.
"It's fine. This was only the preliminary round. There's still the semifinal later. Park Bo-seong oppa will definitely beat that Chinese guy in the semifinal."
"That Chinese guy was only strong this time. Park Bo-seong oppa will teach them a lesson in the semifinal."
That was human nature. When people saw their hopes slipping away, they started talking nonsense.
At the same time, Takemura Goro, watching from the stands in Japan, felt the immense pressure Wang Yi was bringing, even though he wasn't competing.
If Wang Yi had been ahead of Park Bo-seong by just a few hundredths of a second, he wouldn't have felt such enormous pressure. But Wang Yi was now almost 0.5 seconds ahead.
Nearly five meters ahead.
That speed was truly terrifying.
If Wang Yi was this strong in the sprints, what about the long-distance events?
By the track,
Park Ui-seung, Park Bo-seong's coach, saw the look in his eyes and knew the kid had been completely stunned.
He hurried over with a bottle of water and a towel.
He tossed the water to Park Bo-seong.
Park Bo-seong quickly reached out and caught it.
Park Ui-seung secretly breathed a sigh of relief.
He'd tossed the bottle to Park Bo-seong