028 Shot Put Breaks the World Record?

“Forget it!” he muttered.

“Being an athlete doesn’t seem easy either. Constant training camps, endless competitions all over the place—how could that compare to the freedom and ease I have now?”

“What’s more, at my age, I’ve never had any training or competition experience. Suddenly running so fast would draw too much attention, and that’s not good either.” Chen Jue shook his head, dismissing the thought of becoming an athlete.

All he wanted was to quietly train back home, see if he could break the tragic fate of his family, strengthen his body, and lay the foundation for a longer life. He had no intention of chasing after fame or profit.

In today’s terms, his situation was just like the much-discussed “Buddhist” or “lying flat” lifestyle that was so popular online.

But somehow, while “lying flat,” he had accidentally broken the limits of the human body—something even he hadn’t anticipated!

“No wonder I could run so fast this morning. Am I really this strong now?” Chen Jue stroked his chin, unable to suppress a flicker of joy and pride in his heart.

Who wouldn’t want to be stronger, to run faster?

Strolling along the cinder track, his thoughts drifted. He calmed his mind, then reached into his backpack and pulled out the standard competition shot put, weighing 7.26 kilograms.

“So light!”

“No wonder when I was training with dumbbells at home, that 20-kilogram weight felt lighter with every lift. It must have been this constantly increasing strength at work!”

Chen Jue glanced subconsciously at the attribute panel, where his strength value now read 1.01.

If an agility of 0.98 was enough to power him through the 100 meters in under ten seconds, then strength that had already surpassed “1”—how could that possibly be weak?

He walked over to the shot put pit, recalling the turning technique his PE teacher had taught him in school. He braced the 7.26 kg shot against his shoulder, twisted his waist, spun, and pushed with all his might.

Whoosh!

The gray shot traced a perfect arc through the air and landed with a thud in the distant sandpit.

He grabbed the tape measure.

Good heavens!

Twenty-two meters, eighty-one centimeters!

Only just over half a meter short of the world record!

Unlike the 100 meters, where there’s a difference between electronic and hand timing, in shot put, the only thing that matters is how far you can throw.

On his first try, employing the explosive power from his boxing and Eight Immortals stance, Chen Jue had already smashed the national men’s shot put record and come within striking distance of the world record.

This only made him more certain about his theory regarding a “1” point attribute for the standard adult male.

“Let’s try a few more throws.”

Excitement shone on Chen Jue’s face as he retrieved the shot.

Back in high school, he’d competed in shot put, but his best throws barely cleared ten meters. Occasionally, a few burly guys might make it past that, and they were school legends.

What Chen Jue hadn’t noticed was that the high school shot put weighed only five kilos, while the one he held now was the full 7.26 kilos used in official competitions.

The difference in technique and numbers was worlds apart—completely incomparable.

“Go!”

His second throw with the 7.26-kilogram shot felt even better than the first.

A quick measure: twenty-two meters, ninety-eight centimeters!

A little farther than before!

“One more!”

Feeling a rush, Chen Jue fetched the shot again and stepped back into the throwing circle.

This time, he readied himself a bit longer, letting his breathing and muscles settle into perfect harmony. With a backward pivot and a surge of strength, he launched the shot, which landed even farther than his previous two attempts!

He hurried over with the tape measure, grinning from ear to ear as he saw the result.

“Twenty-three meters, forty centimeters!”

“Did I just break the world record?”

It felt surreal. He pinched his cheek, tugged at his thigh, but the pain assured him this was no dream.

“What about the long jump?”

He glanced at the nearby long jump pit, wiped the shot clean, put it away in his backpack, and made his way to the runway.

It was late summer, and after days of sun, the sand in the pit was dry and hard.

Chen Jue found an old wooden plough leaning against the wall—perhaps left by a villager after threshing grain—and used it to turn over the sand, bringing up some of the damper earth beneath. This, he thought, would cushion him in case he jumped too hard and risked injury.

Once the sandpit was ready, he walked slowly to the end of the runway, eyes fixed on the white take-off board. With a burst, he shot forward, a gray streak tearing down the track.

When he reached the board, he launched himself with a powerful stomp. For a moment, he seemed to fly, feet treading air as if he ran on clouds, before folding forward and landing squarely in the pit. Instantly, he bounced up, shook off the sand, and checked the mark with the tape.

Eight meters, sixty-two centimeters!

Another national long jump record shattered!

And only thirty-two centimeters short of the men’s world record!

“Good thing they didn’t cut corners building this sandpit back then. Any farther, and I’d have landed on hard concrete instead of sand,” he thought, glancing at the spot where he came down—less than a meter from the edge.

The school leaders who built this long jump pit could never have imagined that, in this small remote elementary school, someone would leap such an astonishing distance.

…

After more than two hours testing all kinds of track and field events at the old school playground, Chen Jue felt as if he were in a dream. He slung his backpack over his shoulders and wandered slowly back to the old family home in Chen Village.

By then, the sun was setting, the clouds ablaze, and the whole village glowed a vivid crimson, as if drenched in blood.

Discovering that his physical capabilities could rival, even surpass, the world’s top athletes left Chen Jue stunned for a long time.

“In the end, I really underestimated the attribute panel!”

“If I keep raising these stats, I might just become a Superman who can’t fly,” he mused, glancing back at the breathtaking sunset, feeling more hopeful about this life than he ever had in Hangzhou.

The feeling of becoming stronger, bit by bit, was just like leveling up in a game—utterly addictive.

Back home, he took a hot shower to wash away the dust and sweat. Still in a daze, he made a simple dinner.

As he ate, a sudden thought struck him. He opened various forums and message boards, browsed the latest posts from the experts, then posted his own question about the phenomenon he’d noticed while chasing a thief earlier—the spontaneous closing of his pores.

It didn’t take long before a user with a forum level over 20 replied to his thread.

“Caught a level-3 newbie!”

“OP, this uncontrolled closing of your pores probably means you’re close to mastering your internal energy (sarcastic emoji).”