The Su God of the Reopening of the Sports Arena

Chapter 2575 Yes, the bronze medal is ours too! This moment is the peak.

Chapter 2575 Yes... the bronze medal is ours too! This moment is the pinnacle.
The salty evening breeze at the Maracanã Stadium carried the heat of the track, hitting our faces with a scorching temperature as we raced through the final twenty meters of the 100-meter final.

The roar of the crowd in the stadium seemed to be blocked by an invisible barrier.

In Zhang Peimeng's world, only the dull thud of spiked shoes crushing red plastic remained.

The explosive breaths in his chest, and Blake's ever-present black figure beside him.

Even the other person's breathing was so clear it felt like it was right next to their ear.

He vowed that this was the closest he had ever come to victory in his life.

I never expected to be in the position of competing for the bronze medal.

I never imagined I would have a day like this.

In previous competitions, there was simply no chance because the competition was dominated by top players.

Even though he broke the 9.80-second barrier.

A score of 9.70+ is impressive enough in history, but unfortunately, in this era, it would still be the bottom of the finals.

Since he wasn't going to get any particularly good rankings anyway, he didn't have high expectations in that regard.

I only want to improve myself and help the team win the gold medal in the team competition.

But little did I know, sometimes opportunities come just like that.

It came so quickly that you probably didn't expect it to happen so fast.

It just appeared out of nowhere.

In this round, because the semi-finals and finals were so close together, most of the players were suffering from a physical crisis.

Only players from the Su Shen system, because they were specially trained by Su Shen, performed best in this aspect within a close two-shot range.

That's how he got the chance.

Challenging the impossible.

This was a life-or-death situation for him and Blake.

Or just tell yourself.

This is my own life-or-death situation.

This may be the only time in his life that he has come so close to winning a major medal.

Life offers many opportunities, but you can actually seize them.

Not many times.

Su Shen's deep red figure had already pulled ahead ten meters ahead, and his extreme speed of 9.59 seconds made the competition in the first half of the track meaningless. Zhao Haohuan also secured second place with his stride advantage in the later stages, while Zhao Haohuan secured third place.

It turned into a desperate, no-holds-barred brawl between him and Blake.

Only one medal remains.

I didn't have a chance, but I never expected to have a chance to compete for a medal.

If we give up on this...

Zhang Peimeng will never forgive himself in his life.

Of course, Blake wasn't so easy to beat; although he didn't care much about the bronze medal.

But I'm not going to let you win so easily.

Moreover, Blake is half a year younger than Suarez.

He was the least affected among these non-Su god-system giants.

Therefore, his output here is relatively normal.

At this moment, both of them had pushed their body's lactate threshold to the limit.

The soreness in my thigh muscles felt like countless tiny needles pricking me.

The arm that was swinging felt as heavy as if it were filled with lead.

But no one dared to relax even slightly—

In the last twenty meters of the 100-meter race.

Even a 0.01-second hesitation.

They are all utterly doomed to defeat.

Bang bang bang bang bang.

At the 80-meter mark, the two were running side by side, their shoulders almost touching, neither able to gain the slightest advantage.

Zhang Peimeng's stride frequency was pushed to his limit by Blake. He could clearly feel that Blake was using his signature late-race acceleration to keep up with the rhythm.

That was the most lethal move of the man who was once hailed as "Bolt's successor," like a runaway heavy motorcycle.

With a whooshing sound as it cuts through the wind, it seems intent on crushing everything in its path to dust.

Zhang Peimeng caught a glimpse of Blake's arm out of the corner of his eye. The swing of that arm was exaggeratedly large, each forward swing was full of brute force, and the fingertips almost touched the knee. It was clear that he was also giving it his all.

His arm swings had long since deviated from the standard trajectory of pre-competition training; he was now mechanically swinging his arms back and forth based on muscle memory, his palms deformed from excessive clenching.

The fingernail dug into the flesh, but I felt no pain at all.

All bodily sensations.

They were all consumed by their extreme effort and their desire for victory.

No kidding, this is the best opportunity of my life, how could I not give it my all?

At 90 meters, Blake launched the first attack.

He suddenly let out a low growl, his stride frequency abruptly increasing. The previously even kicking and swinging rhythm was broken, and he took two steps in one, his whole body like an arrow flying close to the ground, forcefully squeezing inward from Zhang Peimeng's right rear.

That was a direct physical confrontation; Blake's shoulder brushed against Zhang Peimeng's arm, intentionally or unintentionally.

With a forceful, brute force, it attempted to disrupt his balance.

Zhang Peimeng swayed, his center of gravity almost shifting, and his spiked shoes scraped against the plastic with a sharp, light sound.

In that instant of swaying, Blake used the force of the jolting to push himself forward half an inch.

That half-inch, on the 100-meter track, is the distance that determines who gets the medal.

There's no way to say Blake did it on purpose, because it's common for runners to veer off course while running in straight track events.

Moreover, Blake also had physical problems, ultimately due to insufficient rest time. After being pushed to the limit, he could no longer control the straight path.

After this confrontation, it's clear that Blake has the upper hand on the surface.

Because his muscles are bigger.

A gasp erupted from the stands, the sound waves piercing through the invisible barrier and reaching Zhang Peimeng's ears.

But he didn't even have time to hesitate.

Opportunities can arise suddenly, and so can unexpected changes.

This is something that happens frequently.

Zhang Peimeng didn't say much.

He is no longer the person he used to be; he won't complain easily anymore.

When an opportunity arises, seize it firmly.

When unexpected events occur, we must fight them fiercely.

Anyway, absolutely...

Don't give up easily.

Zhang Pei gritted his teeth, his molars grinding together with a rattling sound.

A faint metallic taste filled my mouth.

That's due to excessive clenching of the teeth.

He didn't try to match Blake's pace in the later stages of the game.

That's the opponent's advantage; a direct confrontation will only throw you off your rhythm.

He firmly stabilized his core and pressed his body forward a little further.

Using the reaction force from pushing off the ground.

Push your hips forward forcefully.

Use your best strength: cadence.

Little by little, they chased back that half-inch of space.

His left spike sank deep into the anti-slip treads of the track, a sharp pain shooting through his plantar fascia, his calf muscles taut as if about to tear, but he... didn't pull back at all.

He was also reaching his limit, but this was the moment for a clash of titans.

He believed Blake wasn't much better off.

Indeed, that was the case. Blake hadn't expected the interval between the two shots to be so short, which caused his body's tacit understanding to be somewhat unaccustomed to it.

So he is now forcibly activating his body.

Otherwise, it wouldn't be running so slowly.

However you look at it, falling behind in the later stages almost means there's no chance left.

Can……

As it turns out, there are many things you think you have no chance of getting, so you give up in advance.

That means there's really no chance.

Miracles always happen through perseverance and patience.

Bang bang bang bang bang.

Fight!

Even if it means getting injured, we have to give it our all!
This is an individual event!

Although he already has enough gold medals in major competitions, they are all team events. He wants to win one for himself in individual events.

If there's no chance, so be it; but if there is, how could I not want it?

He's also a 100-meter individual event athlete.

He didn't hold back at all, even at the risk of getting injured.

Forcibly pushing the body.

Instead, they focused all their strength on the moment they pushed off the ground.

Bang bang bang.

Every push-off felt like he was trying to break through the track beneath his feet.

Blake, standing beside him, sensed his counterattack and went all out.

The two figures were closely intertwined on the track.

Like two intertwined shadows, neither was willing to give way an inch.

There are no more gold or silver medals left. Only one medal remains, and neither of them wants to give it up.

Having fought this hard, who would want to let their opponent take the medal and leave with nothing?

The last eight meters.

Suddenly, Zhang Peimeng saw an opportunity.

Originally, I thought I couldn't outrun Blake.

But Blake clearly showed a fluctuation in rhythm here.

My physical fitness was still affected, so I ran at my original pace.

The body's functions have not fully recovered.

There was a problem at the end.

Blake's breathing.

Chaos.

His breathing was heavy, like a broken bellows; veins bulged on his dark red face; though his eyes still held a ferocious, beast-like quality.

They even abandoned the balance of the swing arm.

He swung one hand back violently and the other forward, practically lunging forward.

You can see Blake giving it his all, even in this situation.

It lives up to its reputation as a wild beast.

Zhang Peimeng's condition isn't much better either!

My lungs felt like they were on fire; every breath I took was excruciatingly painful.

Even a slight blackout began to appear in front of my eyes.

The finish line in my line of sight became somewhat blurry.

But his gaze remained fixed on that white line.

That was the glory he had strived for all these years to achieve.

There's an opportunity.

This may be the only chance I have in my life.

There won't be such a good opportunity next time.

I don't have a grasp on it.

What a lifelong regret.

The two skates simultaneously rolled over the 90-meter mark, the rubber surface making a dull thud as they were stepped on—a resonance between their physical limits and the track.

It was also the final showdown between two top sprinters.

Blake's shoulder brushed against Zhang Peimeng's arm again, this time with even more force, almost slamming it into Zhang's arm.

This time, Zhang Peimeng was certain that Blake hadn't done it intentionally, because such a deviation would have had a significant impact on him as well, which meant...

Blake himself couldn't stay calm either.

That's an opportunity.

Zhang Peimeng's arm went numb from the impact, but he still stubbornly endured it.

Instead of retreating, it used the force of the impact to push itself forward a little.

Even though his arms aren't as thick as his, his core strength is superior.

Zhang Peimeng has been training in the Soviet system for so many years.

Especially between those two shots, his physical reserves, rhythm reserves, and even his tacit understanding of his body were all better.

Then.

This would create the possibility of confronting Blake.

At least here, it's possible.

In the final five meters, victory or defeat hinges on the slightest margin.

Zhang Peimeng could sense that Blake's speed had decreased slightly.

Even top athletes will show signs of exhaustion under such extreme sprinting.

Moreover, Blake's sculptures here already far surpass those of before.

Zhang Peimeng seized this fleeting opportunity.

Transfer the last bit of strength from your waist and abdomen to your legs.

Then it travels from the legs to the soles of the feet.

Each push-off required the full strength of the body.

All that remained in his mind were the words Su Shen had said to him countless times in the training hall:
"In the last three meters, don't try to sprint, try to stick close, send your shoulder out and use your body to smash through the finish line."

He had this sentence etched into his bones, practicing it thousands and tens of thousands of times. During winter training for so many years, he practiced repeatedly in front of the infrared wire pressing equipment in the training hall, until his calves cramped and his waist and abdomen ached so much that he couldn't straighten up. Even when the team told him to rest, he would just shake his head, drink some water, and continue practicing.

On the track late at night, with only moonlight and streetlights, he ran the last ten meters repeatedly, practicing the action of crossing the line until it became second nature!

That's what he wanted to do.

This was something he couldn't do before.

must……

Train until your body reaches its limit.

He can also reflexively perform the most standard line-hugging movements. This is exactly what Su Shen needs him to do.

And now.

So many years have passed.

He thought that no matter how much he practiced, he might never have a chance to use his skills.

Where did you expect that?
opportunity.

And just like that, it happened.

as if.

These years of suffering.

These years of trials and tribulations.

This is the moment we've been waiting for.

In the final three meters, Blake made a last-ditch effort.

He shifted all his weight forward, practically lunging backward toward the finish line.

Swing your shoulders forward violently.

Trying to use this last bit of brute force.

He pinned Zhang Peimeng behind him.

Zhang Peimeng's vision had completely blurred.

He was also exhausted.

I never imagined I could actually go toe-to-toe with Blake.

I never imagined I could surpass both Gatling and Powell.

He watched an anime called Slam Dunk, where the protagonist asked the coach when the other player had the most glorious moment.
If it were now, he would ask himself the same question.

What was the most glorious moment of your life?
For the team, that would definitely be a gold medal.

But for an individual...

Maybe.

Now is the time.

It's this year.

this time.

I must seize this opportunity!

He couldn't see Blake's movements.

It can only be done by relying on bodily sensations.

Perform that move that I've practiced countless times over the years—

Shoulder press.

Hip thrust.

Sent out.

Shake your hand.

Attach the wire.

Push them over!!!
He didn't reach for the line; that would have been the most foolish thing to do, as it would have only scattered his strength and shifted his center of gravity.

He locked his core tightly, leaned his upper body slightly forward, pushed his left shoulder forward forcefully, and pressed his hips firmly against the wall. His whole body was like a solid board, pressing hard against the finish line.

As long as the core torso is reached, that's fine.

He could feel his left shoulder brushing against Blake's shoulder.

You could feel that their bodies were almost touching each other just before the finish line.

You could feel the final dull thud of the spiked shoes crushing the plastic.

But nothing could stop him from making that final move.

The final step is to tread the ground and press the line.

The moment Zhang Peimeng pushed off the ground with his left foot.

His calf muscles suddenly spasmed, and the pain made his vision go black.

He almost lost consciousness.

But he used the reaction force from pushing off the ground to propel his entire body forward.

The left shoulder was the first to touch the white finish line.

And Blake beside him.

It was just a hair's breadth away.

My shoulder was a beat too slow.

He pinned her down firmly behind him.

The inertia pushed Zhang Peimeng forward, causing him to stagger two steps.

I almost fell.

He could hold on any longer, his hands resting on his knees as he gasped for breath.

The burning pain in his lungs almost made him vomit, and his whole body was shaking uncontrollably, making it difficult for him to even stand.

At that moment, his world was in chaos. The deafening cheers from the audience, the shouts of reporters, and the clicking of camera shutters all mingled together.

But he paid no attention, staring intently at the electronic screen in front of him that was still displaying scrolling numbers.

They didn't even dare to blink.

His heart pounded wildly in his chest, making his ribs ache, and with each beat it called out a name:
Zhang Peimeng, Zhang Peimeng, Zhang Peimeng.

The numbers on the electronic screen were still changing, and names flashed by one by one.

Suarez's 9.59 seconds firmly secured him first place.

Zhao Haohuan's 9.75 seconds secured him second place.

Then, the screen stopped, frozen on his name.

Zhang Peimeng – 9.80 seconds – third place.

Blake – 9.81 seconds – fourth place.

0.01 seconds.

In just 0.01 seconds.

In that 0.01 second, he won.

In that mere 0.01 seconds, he overtook Blake and secured the bronze medal.

In that 0.01 second, he made up for the regret of his previous life and stood on the podium of the world championship.

They firmly grasped the glory that belonged to them.

Zhang Peimeng stared at that number for a very long time, until the trembling in his body gradually subsided.

The burning pain in my lungs gradually subsided over time.

It went on for so long that he even began to wonder if he was hallucinating.

He raised his hand and hastily wiped the sweat from his face with his sleeve.

Sweat mingled with the wetness in the corners of his eyes.

They slid down to the corners of their mouths.

The salty and astringent taste, yet it sweetened my heart.

Won.

I won.

bronze medal.

A bronze medal.

I won a bronze medal in the 100 meters at a major competition!!!
He wanted to laugh, to shout, to jump up.

She even wanted to be like Zhao Haohuan.

He roared at the top of his lungs.

But all the strength in his body was drained away.

He was just supporting himself on his knees, panting heavily.

A hoarse whimper came from his throat.

It was an emotion that had been suppressed for many years, and at this moment it finally found an outlet.

He didn't notice that a staff member was walking briskly toward him, carrying a neatly folded five-star red flag.

The staff walked very quietly, afraid of disturbing the athlete who had just given his all.

When I got to his side, I gently patted his shoulder with a warm touch and whispered, "Come on, let's go take a picture. Put on the national flag, the cameras are waiting for you."

"congratulations."

"Third place in the 100 meters".

This strike was like a thunderclap.

This pulled Zhang Peimeng back to reality from his extreme emotions.

He slowly straightened up, his body appearing somewhat clumsy due to muscle stiffness.

His shoulders and legs were still throbbing, but his gaze was fixed on the five-star red flag in the staff member's hand.

The red background and the golden five stars shone brightly under the lights of the Maracanã Stadium.

That was the color he had seen countless times in his dreams.

It's the color he's been striving for all these years, the color he wants to wear.

now.

It can finally be realized.

It can be done on a 100-meter track.

"Hurry up and put it on, and take a group photo with the champion and runner-up."

"What are you doing? Old Zhang, come here right now!!!"

Su Shen and Zhao Haohuan never expected that the third place winner would also be one of their own.

The joy of this moment.

It reached its peak.

Just like in the original timeline, Jamaica swept the gold, silver, and bronze medals in the 200-meter race.

This is our peak moment in the 100 meters.

As Zhang Peimeng received the national flag, the moment his fingertips touched the fabric, a surge of heat flowed from his fingertips to the depths of his heart.

The fabric of the national flag has a slightly rough texture, a testament to countless washes and waves.

It felt heavy, pressing down on his palm.

That is the weight of honor, the weight of the nation, and the weight of his many years of hard work.

"Okay, okay."

"I am coming."

He clumsily unfurled the national flag, and with a whoosh, the red flag slowly spread out in the hot wind of the racetrack.

With a rustling sound.

He draped the national flag over his soaking wet body.

The edges of the national flag were soaked with sweat.

It was stuck on his back.

It was scalding hot.

Like a red-hot branding iron.

It seeped into his very bones and blood.

It wasn't until this moment that he truly realized it.

I did it.

He turned his head and looked at Blake, the former 100-meter prodigy, who was looking down at the results on the electronic screen with disbelief and resentment on his face.

He stood with his hands on his hips, panting heavily.

They obviously couldn't accept that 0.01-second failure.

"You surprisingly won the bronze medal this time. How do you feel?"

Cameras were all pointed at him, shutters clicked incessantly, and reporters held microphones to his mouth.

Ask him how he feels at that moment in various languages.

But he only opened his mouth.

His throat was so hoarse he couldn't make a sound, but he nodded vigorously at the camera.

The light in his eyes.

It shines like a star.

He walked over to Su Shen and Zhao Haohuan. The three Chinese figures, draped in a five-star red flag, stood on the 100-meter track of the Maracanã Stadium.

Standing in the candidate area of the world championship podium.

It became the most dazzling sight on the entire field.

Su Shen patted his shoulder, a calm smile playing on his lips. He didn't say much, but his eyes contained all his approval and satisfaction.

Zhao Haohuan grinned, revealing a set of white teeth, and punched Pei Meng's chest hard, saying in a panting voice, "Pei Meng, you're awesome!"

Zhang Peimeng also smiled.

She smiled, her eyes crinkling.

He laughed until his throat was hoarse.

Her eyes welled up with tears again as she smiled.

He raised his hand and hugged Su Shen and Zhao Haohuan tightly. The sweat of the three of them mingled and clung to each other.

It was stuck to that bright red national flag.

That was the glory of Chinese sprinting.

It was a victory for the three of them.