Unbeatable at Arm Wrestling

The Chief Instructor sized up Lin Mo.

He didn’t think Lin Mo’s request was entirely reckless—he had already noticed this student who ran twenty laps the day before.

Now, looking at the situation again, he felt this student was definitely a troublemaker.

So he gave Lin Mo’s shoulder a firm pat.

"This student’s got some spirit. But if you lose, your break time is forfeited. While others rest, you’ll be standing at attention. Still want to go through with this?"

Instructor Qian, standing nearby, wanted to intervene. After all, he had originally come to apologize.

But before he could speak, the Chief Instructor called out, "Instructor Qian, we’re accepting this little bet."

Instructor Qian opened his mouth but found himself at a loss for words.

When he looked at Lin Mo, the latter simply said calmly,

"Don’t go easy on me, Instructor Qian."

The commotion drew the attention of the other instructors.

Eager for some excitement, they arranged all twenty freshman classes into a circle, with a sturdy table placed in the center.

Lin Mo stood on one side of the table, Instructor Qian on the other.

Both remained standing.

The Chief Instructor stood between them, smiling as he observed the two.

"Best two out of three. Any objections?"

Instructor Qian wore a pained expression. He had already decided to explain things to the Chief Instructor afterward, hoping to spare Lin Mo the punishment.

But when it came to arm wrestling, he couldn’t afford to lose.

After all, he represented the instructors—losing would be humiliating.

All twenty classes fixed their eyes on Lin Mo in the center.

They were curious why this somewhat handsome guy was bold enough to challenge an instructor.

But most saw it as nothing more than a joke.

Aside from Class Eight, no one believed Lin Mo could win.

Then, a voice rang out from Class Eight.

"Lin Mo! I believe in you! You’re the guy who flung Su Mingzhao around and ground him into the dirt!"

Su Mingzhao, hearing his name, glared fiercely in the direction of the voice.

"What did you just say?"

But the speaker, Li Yongkang, met his gaze without fear.

"I said Lin Mo wiped the floor with you. Isn’t that the truth, you sniveling little snitch?"

Li Yongkang had trained in taekwondo since childhood and had already earned his black belt by high school—though only first dan, it was enough to dominate his peers.

So he had no fear of small fry like Su Mingzhao.

His "sniveling little snitch" remark struck a chord.

Many who despised Su Mingzhao’s underhanded ways burst into laughter.

One person laughing might earn Su Mingzhao’s ire, but a whole crowd? Now it was them against him.

Truthfully, they all disliked his type—backstabbing, twisting words, the kind of person destined to be ostracized.

The focus returned to Lin Mo in the center.

Twenty-one instructors, two of them women, watched him with amused interest.

Lin Mo casually scanned the crowd, his eyes briefly meeting Xie Yuling’s in the audience.

Xie Yuling hadn’t expected Lin Mo to challenge an instructor to arm wrestling, let alone initiate it herself.

In her mind, Lin Mo was the type to remain detached—hardly the sort to seek out such a confrontation.

Compared to Lin Mo’s calm demeanor, Instructor Qian looked guilty.

He had come to apologize, only for things to escalate like this. If not for that loudmouth, none of this would’ve happened.

But now, there was no backing down. Forcing a smile, he said to Lin Mo,

"Don’t stress too much. Even if you lose, you’ll still get your break."

Lin Mo shrugged noncommittally, then placed his hand on the table.

Instructor Qian did the same, gripping Lin Mo’s hand.

Both were ready.

The Chief Instructor stepped forward, positioning their hands in the middle.

"Ready? Begin!"

The whistle blew.

Instructor Qian exerted all his strength—but his expression froze.

No matter how hard he pushed, their hands remained locked in place.

Lin Mo’s grip was like an iron vise, pinning him to the table.

What kind of strength was this?!

Instructor Qian was stunned but immediately doubled his efforts, veins bulging in his neck.

Yet still, their hands didn’t budge.

When he looked up at Lin Mo, the boy wore an exaggerated look of exertion—but Instructor Qian could tell it was an act.

He was pretending to struggle.

Finally, as Instructor Qian’s strength waned, the balance tipped.

Lin Mo slowly pressed the back of Instructor Qian’s hand against the table.

Beeeeep!

The Chief Instructor’s whistle fell from his lips as he stared at Lin Mo, then at Instructor Qian, drenched in sweat.

"Did you go easy on him?"

Instructor Qian exhaled sharply and shook his head.

"No."

Not only were the instructors stunned—the students were too.

A freshman had just beaten an instructor at arm wrestling.

How strong was this kid?

Instructor Qian rubbed his wrist, then looked at Lin Mo again. Not a single drop of sweat on his forehead.

What kind of monster is this? he thought.

The Chief Instructor studied Instructor Qian. Xiao Qian was his soldier—they often arm-wrestled in the barracks, and he knew exactly how strong Xiao Qian was.

Yet he’d lost.

But it was best two out of three. There was still a chance.

He patted Instructor Qian’s shoulder.

"Give it your all."

That was all he could say.

Instructor Qian forced a smile. "I’ll try."

The second round began. Another whistle.

This time, Lin Mo overpowered Instructor Qian instantly, slamming his hand onto the table.

Lin Mo looked up at the Chief Instructor, utterly composed.

"Chief Instructor, I’ve won."

After the first round, the Chief Instructor had already suspected Lin Mo would take the second.

So he was prepared—but then he added, "Since that’s the case, let’s raise the stakes. We’ll send out one more instructor. If you win, you’re exempt from the rest of military training. How about it?"

Lin Mo raised an eyebrow. This instructor really loved to gamble, huh?

Instructor Qian even blurted out, "Platoon Leader!"

Lin Mo shrugged. "I don’t mind. I don’t have many talents, but strength is one of them. In all these years, I’ve never met anyone who could beat me at arm wrestling."

The Chief Instructor’s interest was piqued.

His gaze shifted to the dark-skinned, muscular instructor who had stayed silent in the corner.

"Qiangzi, this kid says he’s never lost. He’s yours."

Qiangzi cracked his knuckles, flashing a row of white teeth.

"I’ve never met my match either. Kid, if you win, I think the Platoon Leader ought to treat you to a meal."