Chapter 104: They Took the Bait! [Asking for Monthly Tickets~!]

Zhang Wenhao hadn't taken Mo Sinan's words on Friday seriously at all, so he never expected him to show up today. After changing into his workout clothes, he followed his usual routine of jumping rope for twenty minutes to warm up, then moved on to preparing for the barbell bench press.

The barbell bench press is the most direct and effective form of bench pressing, and also the best way to display raw strength. Because you lie flat on the bench and grip the bar directly to push it up, the amount of weight on the bar, how low each rep starts, how high it ends, and how many reps you can complete per set all create an incredibly powerful visual impact. In this gym, fitness enthusiasts all liked to use the bench press as a way to measure a person's strength. Whenever someone was doing bench presses, people would gather around to watch, and there were always helpful souls standing on either side of the bar in case of any accidents during the lift.

Seeing Zhang Wenhao already lying flat on the bench press board, everyone around who was training—whether they knew him or were seeing him for the first time—crowded over. Those who knew him hoped to witness Zhang Wenhao create another miracle, while those who didn't know him were waiting to see whether his reputation as the "Little Strength King" was truly deserved or merely hype.

The empty barbell weighed twenty kilograms on its own, and Zhang Wenhao added seventy kilograms on each side, bringing the total to a full one hundred and sixty kilograms. Quite a few people around, including Su Ruoran, showed looks of surprise on their faces.

As for those who had already witnessed Zhang Wenhao's freakish strength the previous week, they stood off to the side with their arms crossed. In their view, Zhang Wenhao handling one hundred and sixty kilograms was a piece of cake.

Sure enough, Zhang Wenhao easily lifted the barbell weighing a full one hundred and sixty kilograms from his chest all the way up until his arms were perfectly straight. This was a full range of motion. Some people preferred doing half reps when pressing, not lowering the bar all the way to their chest at the start, because it's difficult to generate force from a fully bent arm position. But for Zhang Wenhao, doing the full range of motion was the best way to train strength.

One hundred and sixty kilograms, a total of five sets with one hundred reps overall. Zhang Wenhao only rested three minutes between each set, but after finishing all five sets, aside from working up a sweat, he wasn't even breathing heavily, drawing exclamations of amazement from the crowd.

After that, Zhang Wenhao moved up to one hundred and eighty kilograms, again doing five sets with one hundred reps total, and every single rep was perfectly executed.

By this point, Zhang Wenhao was drenched in sweat, though it wasn't from exhaustion. Su Ruoran, feeling concerned for him, wiped the sweat from his face and neck and said, "Wenhao, that's enough. You don't need to push yourself so hard."

Zhang Wenhao gave her a slight smile and said, "It's fine, I know what I'm doing."

But Su Ruoran simply couldn't understand Zhang Wenhao's craving for strength.

Two hundred kilograms—this was a weight Zhang Wenhao had never experienced before. However, he felt the weight shouldn't be too much of a problem for him. But this weight was a number that no fitness enthusiast in the entire Luogang Gym had ever touched. Moreover, in the eyes of fitness enthusiasts, the amount you can press for a single rep doesn't count as your maximum strength value. At the very least, completing a set of twenty reps is what constitutes a person's true maximum strength.

Zhang Wenhao rested for about ten minutes and then lay flat on the bench press board. At this point, two big, tall men came over to help lift the two-hundred-kilogram barbell up to Zhang Wenhao. Zhang Wenhao extended his arms and caught it steadily. The moment the two men released all the weight, Zhang Wenhao felt his arms had already reached their limit—the strain was extremely obvious.

Zhang Wenhao attempted one rep of the bench press, but compared to one hundred and eighty kilograms, two hundred kilograms wasn't just an increase of twenty kilograms—the level of difficulty had doubled. The higher you go, every additional kilogram is a hurdle. It's like the hundred-meter sprint: trying to improve your personal best by even a tenth of a second is an extremely difficult feat.

Zhang Wenhao clenched his jaw tightly. After completing three consecutive reps, he gradually adapted to this extreme sense of weight pressure. Grinding his teeth, he pushed out a full twenty reps, then signaled the two men beside him to help remove the barbell. Only then did he sit up and let out a heavy sigh of relief.

"That's absolutely insane." Even those who had witnessed Zhang Wenhao's superhuman strength before couldn't help but exclaim in astonishment. Two hundred kilograms—for normal human beings, this was simply an insurmountable height. Ordinary people, never mind two hundred kilograms, would already be impressive managing one hundred. Even professional bodybuilders, after years of high-intensity training and being at their peak condition, could only barely reach this level. Very few elite athletes could push their strength above two hundred kilograms, and those who did were all already extremely famous. But Zhang Wenhao was just an unknown high school student.

Su Ruoran hurried forward to wipe the sweat from Zhang Wenhao's forehead and asked with concern, "Are you okay?"

Zhang Wenhao shook his head and laughed. "Looks like the optimal bench press weight for me is between one hundred and eighty and one hundred and ninety kilograms. Two hundred is still a bit of a struggle."

"Wenhao," an acquaintance from the gym said in praise, "that Little Strength King title of yours probably won't take long before it becomes known across the whole country. I think you should just go into professional fitness. With your natural gifts, plus systematic and professional training, you could reach the world's top level in just a few years."

Zhang Wenhao gave a faint smile. "I'm simply trying to improve my own strength. I don't have much interest in professional fitness."

Just then, Zhang Wenhao heard a system notification sound in his mind: "The user's personal stats have changed. Latest stats: Strength: 111, Intelligence: 12, Agility: 6, Sturdiness: 11."

Zhang Wenhao was startled and thought in surprise—the system didn't notify him that his Body Enhancement Technique had leveled up. That meant his strength, sturdiness, and agility had each gone up by one point, likely as a result of physical training?

Although strength, sturdiness, and agility had only each increased by one point, Zhang Wenhao was overjoyed. If he kept training consistently, his physical stats would continue to rise. And not only the strength and sturdiness that the Body Enhancement Technique focused on—through physical training, agility could also be improved.

Su Ruoran handed Zhang Wenhao a cup of warm water and said, "You sweated so much just now. Drink some water to rehydrate."

Zhang Wenhao nodded and said to Su Ruoran, "Let's go sit over on the sofa for a while. I'll rest for ten minutes and then continue."

Su Ruoran acknowledged with a sound. The moment she sat down on the sofa with Zhang Wenhao, Mo Sinan walked in wearing a set of athletic wear.

Mo Sinan had already gotten his membership card on Friday. Knowing that Zhang Wenhao and Su Ruoran would come this afternoon, he had driven over. As soon as he entered, he opened his eyes wide and searched around, finally spotting Zhang Wenhao and Su Ruoran sitting on a sofa off to one side.

Mo Sinan was absolutely delighted. He bounded over to the two of them in a few quick steps and said with a grin, "Sister Ruoran, Wenhao, you two came so early."

Su Ruoran hadn't expected Mo Sinan to actually show up. She felt a sense of resentment inside, but didn't want to be too blunt on the surface, so she responded perfunctorily, "We just got here not too long ago."

Mo Sinan noticed that Zhang Wenhao's body was already completely drenched in sweat and couldn't help sneering inwardly—he'd only been training for such a short time and was already dripping like this? And he still had the nerve to come to the gym?

But he didn't say that out loud. Instead, he looked around the room and fixed his gaze on the fighting ring nearby. Although no one was sparring in the ring at the moment, there were about ten people around it practicing kicks—some directly hitting sandbags, others having training partners hold up pads for them to practice on.

Mo Sinan looked somewhat surprised and said, "I didn't expect the Sanda practitioners here to actually have some real skill."

With that, Mo Sinan glanced at Zhang Wenhao and asked in a teasing tone, "Wenhao, I'm going to go change my clothes. How about after that, we go up there and have a little spar?"

Zhang Wenhao smiled faintly and said, "Sure, I could use some pointers from you."

Mo Sinan was inwardly delighted and nodded, saying, "Great, wait for me. I'll go change right now." With that, he grabbed his bag and rushed into the locker room.

"Little punk, trying to show off in front of me? Today I'll show you what's what." Mo Sinan muttered excitedly to himself while changing clothes. "You want to practice Sanda with me? You're lighting a lamp in a latrine—looking for shit (death)! Today, big bro here will show you the world."

In Zhang Wenhao's eyes, Mo Sinan was nothing more than a jumping clown with a bit of money in his pockets. He wanted to spar in Sanda with him? He probably thought he could definitely have Zhang Wenhao eating out of his hand. But Zhang Wenhao had learned top-tier practical combat from the Super Learning System, while Mo Sinan practiced Sanda, which was primarily performance-oriented. Never mind that he was only an amateur—even a top-tier Sanda expert would have no chance of winning against practical combat. Zhang Wenhao could beat him easily, so easily it almost felt like bullying a child.

But Mo Sinan was being rather arrogant. He had tried many times to embarrass Zhang Wenhao and failed every time. This time, he'd actually gotten the idea to spar with fists and feet. This time was completely different from the previous few times—those times, his spirit had taken the hit. This time, he was bound to suffer both physically and mentally.

Humming a little tune, Mo Sinan changed into Sanda-specific shorts and even brought his own pair of bright red boxing gloves. He was very proud of the muscles on his upper body, believing that while his physique was muscular, it wasn't as freakish as professional bodybuilders', making it maximally lethal to women. So he deliberately went shirtless, hanging the tied-together gloves around his neck. When he came out, he walked straight up to Zhang Wenhao, waved his hand, and said, "Come on, Wenhao, let's go to the ring and have a friendly match."

At this moment, Mo Sinan was feeling a bit anxious. He was afraid that after seeing his lethal appearance, Zhang Wenhao would back out. If he chickened out, most of Mo Sinan's carefully laid plans would go to waste. Just ridiculing him wouldn't be nearly satisfying enough. Getting him up on the ring and teaching him a good lesson in front of Su Ruoran, knocking him to the ground—that would be truly satisfying.

Contrary to Mo Sinan's expectations, Zhang Wenhao stood up without the slightest hesitation and smiled. "Alright then, I'll take the liberty of having a friendly match with you."

"He took the bait!" Mo Sinan was ecstatic, his heart blooming with joy. He glanced at Su Ruoran beside them and saw a hint of worry in her eyes, so he lightly thumped his chest with his fist and laughed, "Sister Ruoran, don't worry. Once we're up on the ring, I know my limits. I won't hurt your Wenhao."

Su Ruoran looked at Mo Sinan with an expression of profound emotion tinged with a hint of pity, then said softly to Zhang Wenhao, "Just a friendly match is fine. Watch your limits."

These words were meant for Zhang Wenhao, but Mo Sinan flattered himself into thinking they were meant for him. He sneered inwardly. Watch my limits? He'd been holding back the urge to teach Zhang Wenhao a lesson for an entire week. Saying it was a "friendly match" was just talk—once they got up on that ring, he'd beat the hell out of him!

Seeing Zhang Wenhao already standing up, Mo Sinan turned and walked toward the ring, calling out from a distance to the group over there, "Hey, fellas, we'd like to borrow your ring for a friendly spar."

The Sanda practitioners who had been practicing basic moves immediately agreed upon hearing someone wanted to spar, adopting an attitude of eager spectators. Meanwhile, the fitness enthusiasts over by the exercise equipment saw Zhang Wenhao and a new guy heading to the ring to spar, and they all exclaimed, "Hey, the Little Strength King is going to fight! Come on, let's go watch!"

Mo Sinan walked to the edge of the ring and, in a deliberately suave manner, propped one leg on the platform, grabbed the spring ropes, and used his other leg to push off, flipping himself over the top. The move looked very standard in the eyes of the Sanda practitioners—clearly the skill of someone who had trained for a few years—and it sparked a hint of curiosity and anticipation in them about this spar.

Zhang Wenhao walked up and climbed onto the ring in a perfectly ordinary manner, without the flashy showmanship of Mo Sinan. Once on the ring, Mo Sinan spoke up, "Hey fellas, could someone lend my friend here a pair of gloves and a headguard?"

A Sanda practitioner below picked up a blue set of gloves and a headguard from the ground nearby and pushed them through the space between the spring ropes to Zhang Wenhao's feet.

Zhang Wenhao only picked up the gloves and put them on, then handed the headguard back to the man with a word of thanks. The man looked at Zhang Wenhao and said, "Better put the headguard on too. Fists and feet have no eyes—safer to wear it."

Zhang Wenhao waved his hand. "Thanks, but I won't be needing that."

Mo Sinan stood off to the side, smiling brightly with a touch of venom in his expression. "Wenhao, you should listen to his advice and put on the headguard. Otherwise, if I accidentally hurt you later, that wouldn't be good."

Zhang Wenhao knocked his two fists together a couple of times and smiled. "It's fine. If there's an accidental injury, so be it. Since this is a friendly spar, injury is hard to avoid anyway."

Mo Sinan laughed heartily and nodded with great magnanimity. "You're right. Since it's a friendly spar, accidental injuries are unavoidable. Come on, then!"

What Mo Sinan didn't know was that Zhang Wenhao's excessive humility and talk of unavoidable injuries was actually a trap he'd laid in reverse—right back at Mo Sinan! Mo Sinan thought he had set a trap to ensnare Zhang Wenhao, little realizing that when it came to setting traps, Zhang Wenhao was not only his equal but far more skillful.

All Mo Sinan could think about right now was: he absolutely had to use this opportunity to teach Zhang Wenhao a good lesson, fully vent the anger he'd been accumulating for days, and also show Su Ruoran what true masculine strength looked like! He wanted Su Ruoran to know that what a woman should like is a man of strength and dominance, not some goddamn bookworm who happened to score first in the city exams!

(To be continued...)