manynovel Page 38
Page 38
"Keep a blank expression! No matter how much I insult you, no matter how much I curse you! Even if I cut off your 'Chicago Typing Chicken' right now, you can't show any pain! That will let your opponent know you're in pain!"
"Tighten the core! Tighten the core! You're the one who's cleaned up the mess now that you've stabbed yourself!"
Viktor adjusted his posture and forced himself to complete the first set.
Old Jack's roar was different—that's about all Old Jack's vocabulary could offer!
By the third set, every time he stood up, he was in excruciating pain, and sweat blurred his vision.
After finishing the fifth set, he had to lean against the frame to catch his breath, his muscles feeling like they were being pricked by countless tiny needles.
Old Jack's voice left no room for argument: "Pain is just a nerve signal, ignore it!"
When Viktor finally finished the tenth set, his legs could no longer support his body, and he knelt down on the ground.
Old Jack handed him another bottle of drink and a small medicine box.
"BCAAs and glutamine help with recovery."
Old Jack looked at Viktor's trembling thighs and said, "Next is the bench press. Rest for ten minutes."
And so, Victor endured his hellish first day.
When he finally finished all his training at nine o'clock that night and dragged his almost broken body back to the dormitory that Old Jack had prepared for him, he didn't even have the strength to take a shower and collapsed onto the bed and fell into a deep sleep.
Then Old Jack pried open his mouth and poured in a liquid food that tasted like shit, and he fell into a deep sleep amidst the dizziness of carbohydrates.
At five o'clock the next morning, he was awakened by the jarring alarm clock and found old Jack standing by his bed.
"The first nutritional injection of the day,"
Old Jack shook the IV bag in his hand, "Then go for ten sets of swimming, followed by breakfast, and morning training starts promptly at six o'clock."
······
This went on for a week.
Three painful nutritional injections a day, six nauseatingly high-calorie meals, and hours of swimming and strength training.
But Victor began to notice a change—his skin was turning bronze.
Old Jack looked at Victor's bronze skin with great suspicion: "Victor, do you have Black genes in your body? Why are you so dark?"
Victor threw the 50-kilogram dumbbell on the ground: "Hey, this is the sun's reward to us!"
Old Jack admired Victor's linguistic talent: "Yes, we are God's favorites! I've always believed that God is black!"
Victor shrugged. "I don't believe in God, but I know he doesn't have many divisions! Otherwise, he would have killed Judas long ago!"
"Hahaha!"
A cheerful sound rang out.
Viktor found that his muscle soreness was healing faster, his strength was gradually returning, and his stamina was increasing rapidly.
One evening during the second week, after Victor finished his last injection, old Jack brought in a new device.
"Body composition analysis".
Old Jack gestured for him to stand on a metal platform, "to see what this week's work has yielded."
The machine hummed and a few minutes later it spat out a sheet of printed paper.
Old Jack glanced at it, a slight smile playing on his lips: "Nine pounds gained, 4.2% increase in muscle mass. Good change, but not fast enough."
Viktor keenly sensed something was wrong.
Old Jack immediately burst out cursing: "I knew it! A week of training didn't reach your limit!"
Viktor exclaimed, "I'm still malnourished!"
But old Jack ignored it, and from that day on, the intensity of the training increased again.
Old Jack added resistance bands to the pool, and gradually increased the number of sets and the weight for strength training.
Every morning when Victor woke up, he felt like his body had been run over by a truck, but every time he looked in the mirror, he could see that his shoulders were broader, his chest muscles were thicker, and the lines of his abdomen were beginning to reappear.
Steel and concrete structures are indeed being gradually developed!
One day in the third week, after Victor completed a 400-pound deadlift, old Jack gave a rare nod.
"The tendons are starting to adapt,"
Old Jack rubbed his biceps. "Tomorrow we'll test the maximum weight."
The next day, Victor was surprised to find that he was able to squat 405 pounds—nearly 50 pounds more than when he started testing.
What surprised him even more was that the recovery time was greatly shortened, and he no longer needed to catch his breath for a long time after completing a set. The ability to absorb nutrients quickly was also greatly enhanced after the gastrointestinal tract recovered, which further enhanced the endurance and steel-like body effect brought by the steel kidneys.
"Your body is starting to function normally again,"
Old Jack explained, "The nutrient absorption rate reached 35%, which is more than three times that of the average person."
Victor, whose education level wasn't as high as Old Jack's, asked, "What do you mean?"
"The most obvious example is you..."
Old Jack organized his thoughts: "Eat a lot, poop little."
At the end of the fourth week, Victor stood on the body composition analyzer, and the results were astonishing—he weighed 380 pounds, had a body fat percentage of 32%, a decrease of 7%, and his muscle mass had increased by 31% compared to when he was admitted to the hospital.
He stood in front of the full-length mirror in the locker room, barely recognizing the person in the mirror:
His shoulders were broad, almost 55 centimeters long, like two small mountains. His arms were thick like big trees, and his chest, abdomen, and back were perfectly barrel-shaped. His thigh muscles were as twisted as old tree roots.
The gunpowder rope stands out alone, like a cannon barrel.
"The symptoms of malnutrition have completely disappeared,"
After the final check-up, Old Jack announced, "Starting tomorrow, we'll rest for two days and then move on to the second phase—specialized training."
That night, Victor stood alone in the center of the gym, looking around.
A tattered flag hung on the wall, bearing old Jack's motto: "Pain is the price of progress, and willpower is the only currency."
He reached out and touched his firm shoulders, where the once loose skin was now taut like a drumhead.
The sound of the pool water, the clanging of the barbell, Old Jack's roar, and the unpalatable nutritional meals and the injections that burned his blood vessels—all this suffering had meaning.
Viktor took a deep breath. The air was filled with the smells of rust, sweat, and disinfectant, a smell that suddenly became so familiar, almost nostalgic.
He knew that the real challenge had just begun.
But the first to arrive were Fiona and Veronica.
Chapter 32 Gain and Loss
Rain pattered against the glass windows of Victor's room, forming a blurry curtain of water.
Then, the noise from the argument between Michael and Jason downstairs added to Victor's frustration.
Victor came downstairs and sat in the corner of the kitchen, his fingers unconsciously stroking the rim of his whiskey glass, looking at the large lump of green, semi-liquid food in front of him with difficulty swallowing.
These are his meals for the past month, and he's almost sick of them.
The doorbell rang, but Mike didn't even look up. Jason, holding a baseball bat, said menacingly, "Let's see who dares to cause trouble again!"
The door opened, and Jason's voice disappeared.
Only Veronica's voice could be heard: "Little Jason, you stole my underwear? Now you're going to knock me out?"
Jason laughed awkwardly and led the two into the house.
The familiar voice made Viktor look up abruptly, nearly spilling the golden-brown liquor.
Fiona stood before him, her black hair even darker and shinier than he remembered, shimmering like a reflective fluid under the bright kitchen lights.
She was wearing a tight black dress, and her curves were more pronounced than they had been two months ago—especially her abdomen.
Veronica approached roughly, her dark brown curly hair cascading over her bare shoulders, her once slender waist still slender.
Viktor's throat tightened.
They look... different.
Not only has her figure become fuller, but her entire demeanor has also changed—the wildness and subconscious defensiveness in Fiona's eyes have been replaced by a certain gentleness, and Veronica's every move exudes a languid charm.
"haven't seen you for a long time,"
Viktor spoke dryly, his mind racing with various possibilities—restless bodies, restless souls. Viktor thought the two women had come to rekindle their past relationship, or perhaps they were still greedy for his 'special talent' and wanted a threesome to enhance their friendship.
"You...came here together?"
“Victor, I heard you gave yourself a lame excuse for losing the boxing match: low blood sugar. Maybe it will be many years before anyone follows your example, but for now, it seems you are indeed very ill.”
Veronica, with an exaggerated expression, sat down abruptly: "Are you fucking blind! Didn't we come here together?"
Fiona sat down on the high stool next to him, while Veronica took up the other side.
Viktor suddenly felt like the filling in a sandwich, stuck in the middle and unable to move.
Fiona exuded a citrus and jasmine fragrance, while Veronica carried a rich vanilla scent. The two scents intertwined, awakening memories deep within him; something was about to surface.
"We have something to discuss with you."
Fiona got straight to the point, tapping her fingers lightly on the bar.
Her nails were painted a deep red, like a warning signal.
Victor's gaze shifted between the two men.
His iron-willed nature made him almost invincible in bed, so he was always very confident. But at this moment, he felt an unprecedented tension—no matter how much he swung the sledgehammer or how diligently he made love, he had never touched a woman's hand many times. He always just charged ahead and had fun.
But his two brothers were not like that.
Facing Veronica's gaze, Michael and Jason grabbed their car keys and turned to leave, as if they had made up their minds.
"Damn it, we were just best buddies!"
Viktor cursed inwardly: 'Am I supposed to face such a complicated plot all by myself?'
"what's up?"
He asked tentatively, while unconsciously straightening his back.
Veronica took a brown paper envelope out of her handbag, and Fiona did the same.