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Chapter 7: Forming a Group
1,324 Words
West High School's gym.
The students were exercising here, and a fierce, violent conflict had just broken out.
If this had happened in a peaceful and stable country, it would have been enough to make the front page of the city news.
Fortunately, this was America, a place where shootings and violence were frequent. A fight between students was just a common conflict.
This wasn't news, not even a big deal!
Therefore, it didn't attract the attention of the school's teachers, and it didn't even spread among the students.
Even the few people in the gym who had witnessed the whole thing quickly forgot about it.
I just remember there was a guy who looked fat but was very strong.
Although the people here hadn't cared about the fight, what Chris was about to do next still attracted a large crowd.
After all, this was a gym. And in a gym, what could be more interesting than watching someone set a bench press record?
Moreover, the person setting this record was a short, chubby guy who looked like he had never been to a gym before.
This, in turn, made people even more curious and amazed.
Chris's feat of lifting 180 kilograms had already drawn many spectators. Now, when they saw him add another 40 kilograms of plates to the barbell, the number of onlookers surged again.
Many people even started recording with their phones, wanting to witness this moment, as it would become a campus legend.
Since the gym at West High was built, in the past ten-plus years, the best student record was only 150 kilograms.
These records were from a few years ago, back when the gym wasn't as luxurious as it was now, and didn't even have air conditioning.
Therefore, for the past two years, there had been a rumor in the school that the gym's central air conditioning would be removed because it supposedly affected muscle training.
This was why no one else had been able to bench 150 kilograms.
Although this rumor was just fabricated by a few muscleheads, most people agreed with it to some extent.
They also believed that a comfortable environment easily made people lazy, preventing them from achieving better training results.
However, this idea would probably disappear after today.
After all, Chris had already debunked the rumor, and he was about to break his own record again.
However, the people present couldn't help but think that while Chris was clarifying the old rumor, he might be creating a new one himself.
It meant that talent could explain everything. As long as you had enough talent, effort and environment didn't matter.
Chris himself was the best proof. After all, the guy's grip on the bar was wrong, and he didn't look like a fat-burning expert at all.
Under the nervous gaze of the crowd, Chris showed no signs of tension.
He gripped the bar tightly, took a deep breath, looked at the classmates helping him, and then pushed hard.
Chris lifted the 220-kilogram barbell high, and he didn't even use the strength of his lower back to cheat.
Of course, outsiders wouldn't know this; the fat on his waist blocked everyone's view, making it impossible to tell if his back was straight or arched.
But when everyone saw Chris lift the 220-kilogram barbell again and again, they understood that this was not Chris's limit.
When Chris lifted his hands, the crowd erupted in deafening cheers and applause.
The question of whether they had talent would only surface after they calmed down; right now, they were just genuinely happy for Chris.
After all, this event might become one of the most unforgettable memories of their high school lives, something they would brag about to their children.
After eighteen consecutive presses, Chris finally felt a little tired.
This feeling was very similar to how he felt after the 100-meter test at university in his previous life: exhausted, but after a short rest, completely unaffected.
From this, Chris also made a rough estimate of his strength. His maximum lifting strength was probably between 250 and 280 kilograms, but definitely not at the 300-kilogram level.
Even so, this strength level had already reached that of the world's top athletes.
He was only fifteen years old at the time, and had never trained before, but he had accomplished this feat purely through his own talent and instinct.
If he trained specifically, and his body continued to grow and develop, his strength level would also continue to increase.
The future was bright!
Chris pondered for a moment, felt his stamina had recovered quite a bit, and began another set of training.
After all, the prerequisite for a bright future was that he could reach that future, and not die in some unknown event as Stewie had mentioned.
When the people around saw that Chris was not continuing to challenge his limit weight, they all dispersed.
A few gossips left the gym and began to spread Chris's story around campus.
The news of a 15-year-old boy bench-pressing 220 kilograms would probably circulate at West High for some time.
After another twenty reps, Chris put the barbell down and said to his two spotters while resting, "Alright, guys, you can rest now."
Seeing Chris bench-press 220 kilograms without effort, the two knew this weight was nothing to him, so they obediently sat down on the bench press next to him.
At this moment, the young fan finally had a chance to speak to Chris. "Hey, boss! I didn't expect you to be so strong. I thought your limit was 200 kilograms!"
When Chris benched 180 kilograms, his expression didn't change, so this person guessed it wasn't his limit.
However, to his surprise, Chris benching 220 kilograms was not his limit.
This completely overturned the kid's worldview, making him even more certain he hadn't chosen the wrong boss.
Chris sat up, looked at the kid, and then noticed he was also wearing basketball shorts. He asked curiously, "You're also on the basketball team? I beat up your teammate, and you dare to come near me? Aren't you afraid your teammates will isolate you?"
Hearing this, the black man standing nearby was stunned, not expecting there was more to the story.
"Ha!" The young white man let out a self-deprecating sigh, then said, "Boss, you're overthinking it. You think those guys don't normally exclude me?"
"Oh! I see."
As soon as the kid finished speaking, Chris understood.
So this person was already excluded by his teammates. When he saw me knock out his teammate with one punch, he didn't hate me at all, but instead became my fan.
What else was there to say? If someone comes to invest, of course we'll accept.
After all, the original Chris was a loser, almost unknown at school.
Never mind a little brother, I didn't even have a few real friends.
So, facing the first person who wanted to be his subordinate, Chris extended his hand and said, "Chris Griffin. From now on, you're under my protection!"
Seeing Chris extend his hand, the young white man excitedly shook it and said, "Merv Robert, basketball substitute. If you want to meet cheerleaders, I can hook you up."
"We'll talk about that later!"
Chris was in no hurry to date girls. Since he was an incubus, he had no shortage of men or women.
"Hey, Roaster, I want to join your group, can I?"
The black man standing nearby watched their conversation and suddenly spoke up.
Then he noticed them looking at him strangely, realized his timing was off, and quickly added, "Hey, I have a girlfriend!"
To his surprise, Chris and his companion exchanged a glance, then started to tease him.
"Ooh~!" ×2
Seeing this, Hanger could only continue to explain, "I really didn't mean it that way!"
"Haha, we get it!" ×2