Chapter Thirty-Two: True Friends

"You all seem to be having a good time! Should I call more underclasswomen over to cheer for you?"

That sultry, striking voice belonged to none other than the devilish goddess of a coach, Manman Yu.

The beautiful coach had actually come out wearing a bikini! This was simply... exactly to my taste! Geng Haoshi gazed in her direction, and, right on cue, twin streams of blood trickled from his nose.

"Old He, there’s nothing you need to do here. Go take a break," Manman said.

"Okay, okay." The manager, Old He, stared at Manman for a long moment before reluctantly leaving.

"You bunch of losers, still fooling around here like a bunch of bromantic fools, aren’t you?"

"If you can’t finish the marathon..." Her voice trailed off, menacing. "I’ll beat you all to death!"

With a crack of her whip echoing through the broadcast system, Manman Yu’s threat reverberated through the night air, making all twelve naked members of the basketball team shudder in terror.

Under Manman’s intimidation, none of the players dared chat any longer. They straightened up, puffed out their chests, and began striding forward in earnest.

The first ten laps were manageable; the team handled them with relative ease.

By the twentieth lap, though, their pace had slowed considerably.

Soon after, the substitute point guard, Chen Yu, collapsed... Another naked body down on the track... Next, substitute shooting guard He Zhikun went down... Another add to the count...

In less than five minutes, all the substitutes, except for Geng Haoshi, had dropped. There were now six naked bodies sprawled face-down on the track.

So, only the five starting players and Geng Haoshi remained on the rubber track.

Looking at the five collapsed substitutes, Geng Haoshi thought, Damn, if it weren’t for that wretched 9527 system making me do intermediate tasks every day, I’d probably have been the first to drop.

By the thirty-first lap, even the starting shooting guard, Xu Gaofeng, had succumbed.

Xu Gaofeng’s genuine, good-natured demeanor always made people warm to him, and Geng Haoshi was no exception. Seeing Xu gasping for breath on the ground, Geng couldn’t help but stop, asking, "Brother Feng, are you okay?"

"I—I can’t go on..." Xu panted, too exhausted to say more.

"Feng! Brother!" Geng Haoshi howled at the sky, recalling how Xu Gaofeng had kindly warned him not to cross the captain when they first met—truly a good man! Overcome with emotion, tears and snot streamed down his face, dripping onto Xu’s back.

Xu Gaofeng thought, Damn it, I’m not even dead yet—what are you crying for?

Geng wiped his face, patted Xu’s shoulder, and said, "Brother Feng, just lie here and don’t catch a chill." With that, he picked up a few leaves from the track and laid them gently over Xu.

Xu thought, You fool, you absolute idiot!

"The fallen have gone; those who remain must work harder!" Geng encouraged himself.

Xu Gaofeng thought, I can’t take this...

Approaching forty laps, Geng felt dizzy, his body on the verge of collapse.

By now, only the team captain, Meng Lang—the strongest and fittest—still looked relatively composed. Zhou Xiaoshan, Zhu Di, and Sun Peng were all pale and wavering, tottering on the edge of collapse.

Watching everything through the monitor, Manman Yu picked up the microphone: "Since this is your first offense, I’ll be lenient. As long as any one of you finishes, you all pass." She paused. "Otherwise, you’re all off the team!"

Hearing this, Captain Meng looked at the few who were still running—all ashen-faced—and sighed, "Looks like I’m the only one who can finish this." He wasn’t entirely sure he’d make it either, but for the sake of his basketball dreams, he resolved to give it his all.

Upon hearing Meng’s words, Zhou Xiaoshan, Zhu Di, and Sun Peng all stopped, sitting down on the spot, then slowly lying back to face the sky. Compared to the earlier face-down collapses, this was at least a more dignified way to drop.

"Are you all just giving up? Do you really think the captain can finish?" Geng Haoshi also stopped to rest.

"The captain’s the fittest among us. If even he can’t do it, the rest of us have no hope," Sun Peng replied.

"Yeah, let’s just wait and see," Zhu Di sighed, closing his eyes to rest.

A dull thud.

"The captain’s down!" Geng saw Meng Lang sprawled face-first on the ground not far away.

Meng had been running when he suddenly felt lightheaded, tripped over his own feet, and crashed spectacularly, passing out cold.

"Damn it!" Zhu Di jerked upright, staring at the felled captain. "That’s it, we’re all done for." With that, he lay back down, resigned to his fate.

No way, I can’t get kicked off like this! I’m still hoping to win the 1,666 yuan prize at the intercollegiate autumn meet! More importantly, my goddess Mimi is waiting to cheer for me—this is my golden chance to win her heart! I absolutely can’t get kicked out now! ...But I’m out of strength; there’s only one thing left. "Hey, you can come out now!" Geng began summoning Geng Haoshi 2.0 with his mind.

"I’m not coming out now," 2.0 replied, not wanting to take over for the naked, exhausted Geng.

"You don’t get a choice! 9527, power up!"

"Yes, Master." Though 9527 didn’t approve of Geng using "Power Surge" so frequently, it had its own reasons for agreeing this time.

Within seconds, thanks to "Power Surge," Geng’s energy skyrocketed.

Geng 2.0 snorted in annoyance—since he was out, he might as well warm up.

Without another word, Geng 2.0 broke into a mad sprint.

...Lap fifty... lap sixty... lap seventy...

The previously collapsed or supine, naked teammates had mostly recovered and now sat up on the track.

"Little Two’s actually still running!" Zhu Di exclaimed in awe as Geng continued to tear around the track.

...Lap eighty... lap ninety... lap one hundred... By the one hundred and third lap, "Power Surge" ended, Geng 2.0 retreated, and Geng 1.0 returned.

Though Geng 1.0 had technically been resting, the body was the same, so by now his energy was nearly depleted and his pace had slowed to a crawl.

For the next two laps, Geng was barely moving faster than a walk.

"One hundred and five laps!" he gasped, then collapsed onto the track, falling flat on his back...