Chapter Sixty-Three: Olympic Champion

"This is impossible!" Prasinus’s teeth chattered violently, his pupils bloodshot, his body straining desperately to rise from his knees. Yan Luo, now in the throes of extreme rage, skin flushed red, his face cold as frost, yet his eyes seemed to burn with fire.

Bang!

Prasinus, who had burst forth with all his strength, was suddenly forced flat to the ground, his body pressed firmly against the earth. An ocean of humiliation swept through him; he strained with all his limbs, but it was futile, as though a mountain weighed upon him, rendering him unable to move even an inch.

Bang!

Another dull thud echoed as Yan Luo, with the forceful motion of a soccer player's powerful kick, sent the Spartan strongman—over two hundred pounds—flying more than ten meters. The other nineteen Spartan warriors erupted in commotion, stunned as they watched Prasinus lying on the ground, blood trickling from his lips, then glanced at Yan Luo, whose skin glowed crimson. Their hearts brimmed with awe and fear, but their overwhelming numbers lent them courage.

"Ah!"

Someone shouted, and the Spartans surged forward together. The first rushed up and wrapped his arms around Yan Luo’s waist. Yan Luo swept his hand around, seized the man’s arm, and flung him several meters away. Then, swinging his fists, he smashed two others so viciously their faces were left shattered, their noses broken.

In sheer strength, Yan Luo surpassed every Spartan warrior—even Prasinus was only his equal. Now, in his berserk state, his power was immense. Each punch and kick, no matter how elite his adversaries, was more than they could bear. Nearly every blow rang out with the crisp snap of breaking bone.

The Olympic stadium fell utterly silent. Every spectator, even the priests and judges, stared slack-jawed, wide-eyed at the corner of the arena where nineteen Spartan warriors, so valiant when charging, were scattered like splashing droplets, overwhelmed and thrown aside. This was not a contest between equals, but a one-sided crushing victory.

In Greek legend, there are many heroes deemed invincible—Hercules the mighty, Achilles the beautiful, Perseus the slayer of Medusa. Yet for all, this was the first time they witnessed such ferocity in reality.

The Olympic Games exist to select heroes, and Greeks worship heroes deeply. Now, a figure resembling an epic champion had appeared before their eyes. Watching this lone man confront a horde of elite Spartans, each spectator held their breath, feeling a blaze ignite in their chest.

The contest, a one-against-twenty struggle, lasted barely two minutes. All Spartans lay sprawled on the ground, some unconscious, others groaning in pain. Blood splattered the ground everywhere.

Yan Luo’s crimson skin gradually faded. One hundred points of rage had been absorbed by the strange mask, unleashing a berserk state that lasted exactly one hundred seconds.

This outburst had burned his potential and life force; Yan Luo saw his life energy depleted by a long bar—a full line of blood lost! Fortunately, after his initial genetic modification, his total life force had only fallen by fifty percent.

He exhaled heavily, his breath still a little fiery, as his emotionless automaton heart stirred with rising feeling.

You sense intense emotion:
Shock +2
Fear +4
Despair +1

...

A flood of chaotic negative emotions rose in the hearts of the conscious Spartans. Since Thermopylae, where they held Xerxes’s army at bay, Sparta’s prestige and power had soared to its greatest height in history. They were even poised to challenge Athens’s supremacy, and every Spartan carried a deep-seated pride.

Now, all that had been shattered by a single man...

Moreover, their king was dead.

How had it come to this? The king had first come to watch the Olympics, giving Sparta its chance to challenge Athens—a convergence of two joyful events. This happiness should have brought Sparta more glory, ushering in an era of Greek dominance. But why had it ended this way...

Time ticked on. At last, the frozen stadium stirred to life again. The panel of Olympic judges, their faces flushed, could barely contain their excitement—what could thrill them more than witnessing an unbelievable contest?

"Incredible, incredible!"

"We have just witnessed, perhaps, the greatest wrestling match in Olympic history!"

"One man has defeated twenty Spartan warriors, crushing them with overwhelming power!"

"A miracle, a miracle, an unimaginable miracle!"

Excited judges rushed toward Yan Luo. Unlike the Spartans, their goal was different—this was Olympia, not Sparta. A dozen judges surrounded Yan Luo.

You sense intense emotion:
Excitement +2, +3, +3...

Up in the stands, 24,000 spectators felt as though they had witnessed a momentous event. Many stood from their seats, faces flushed, eyes shining. The Olympics was Athens’s grandest festival, and athletes in this era commanded respect unmatched even in modern times.

An Olympic champion was more beloved than a general or even a king.

"Discus!"
"Sprint!"
"Javelin!"
"Long Jump!"
"Wrestling!"
"This pentathlete’s performance is flawless!"

The judges hoisted Yan Luo high in their arms: "Pentathlon champion! The competitor from the Eastern nation of China, honorary citizen of Athens—Yan Luo!"

Strictly speaking, the pentathlon hadn’t truly concluded; only the first event, discus, had begun. Yan Luo’s throw had felled the Spartan king, plunging the contest into chaos. But based on his display just now, none of the other competitors could raise any objection.

Who could hurl a discus nearly a hundred meters and slay King Archidamus II of Sparta?

Who could, with Spartans and athletes in pursuit, leave them nearly a hundred meters behind on a 192-meter track?

Who could dodge dozens of javelins, then slay the Spartan captain with a single throw?

Who could take a running leap and soar over another man’s back?

Who could, in the wrestling match, take on twenty at once and defeat twenty elite Spartans with raw violence?

"Yan Luo, Yan Luo! Oh oh oh..."

The pentathlon spanned five days, with this event occupying an entire day. Though its significance was less than the sprint, for all Greeks, it served to select the most ideal, radiant, and versatile hero.

Just now, the discus had killed the Spartan king, the javelin had slain the captain—both strokes of luck. The wrestling match was won by unleashing one hundred points of rage, but in this era, nobody questioned whether you were cheating.

No one knew Yan Luo was cheating.

The stands erupted as countless spectators stood, applauded, and cried out in amazement. Some even screamed madly. Yan Luo had conquered the Olympic stadium, and all its spectators and judges!

They even forgot Yan Luo was a foreigner, not a true Greek citizen—only that he was a hero stepped from legend.

The entire stadium boiled with excitement.

"Ah ah ah! Ah ah ah!" Geek Zhu Xiaoyong shouted too, for Yan Luo’s feat of flattening twenty naked Spartans was so manly, so stirring! Athletic contests easily rouse emotion—even this chubby geek felt his heart ready to explode.

Athens’s officials and its citizens embraced, cheered, and shouted together. Yes, Yan Luo was a foreigner, but nominally an honorary citizen of Athens! A figure rivaling the demigods—this would greatly enhance Athens’s prestige. Moreover, he had slain the Spartan king in the pentathlon!

Cornelius the Arcadian stood pale, even regretting his challenge to Yan Luo during the ritual. It was hard enough to win against Prasinus one-on-one, let alone twenty-on-one.

Clap clap clap clap...

Roar roar roar roar!

Applause and cheers rolled across the stadium, wild shouts thundered, everyone’s blood boiled, and only roaring could express their feelings. All 24,000 spectators gradually began to shout a single name:

"Yan Luo, Yan Luo, Yan Luo!"

The tremendous waves of sound surged like tides throughout the arena. Meanwhile, Yan Luo received a prompt in his consciousness:

"You have achieved a milestone: Won an Olympic championship."

"You have earned the title: Olympic Champion."