"Good for you, kid from the East. Rather than using violence to beat them into submission, you chose the civilized way of arm wrestling to win them over. Your noble character is admirable. Win or lose, I support you."
An elderly onlooker leaned on his cane and loudly voiced his support for Lin Li's actions. In his lifetime, violence had caused far too much destruction and death, sorrow and anger, hatred and jealousy. Compared to a direct fight, with its injuries, rage, hatred, destruction, and possible death, Lin Li's approach was far more civilized. The old man did not hesitate to praise him.
"What? Arm wrestling? Didn't he say Chinese Kung Fu could take on ten people by himself?"
"Oh no, come on, let them trade real punches! I want to see how powerful Chinese Kung Fu is."
"Chinese Kung Fu arm wrestling? What kind of joke is that?"
Some young people were dissatisfied with this outcome. What they wanted was an intense, powerful fight. Excitement, death, and destruction were the themes of youth. Arm wrestling was nowhere near as good as a real fight.
These young people who wanted to see a blockbuster spectacle were immediately lectured by the elders beside them. They had experienced more and knew better the disasters violence could bring. Arm wrestling could display the dynamism of strength while resolving a dispute, making it a good solution.
At a red plastic table bearing the Coca-Cola logo, the tabletop was dry and covered with a little dust and dead leaves. Lin Li swept an arm across it, brushing off the chairs, then sat down with an imposing air. He planted his right elbow on the tabletop. Across from him stood the ten broad-shouldered, burly men led by Jeters.
"Ten of you. Who's first?"
Jeters and the