Orc Undead Sports Warrior

When Lu Wei's final throw score appeared on the big screen, the audience was first astonished, then erupted in cheers. Lu Wei roared like a raging beast, then punched his chest with his right fist.

The home crowd had mixed feelings. They had been booing Lu Wei since the start of the game, but as his performance improved, their emotions shifted. Only a small minority continued to boo him, while the rest remained neutral.

Most of the Japanese spectators at the scene were track and field fans, and they knew what 22 meters meant for an athlete.

As commentator Yang Li delivered his commentary—a mix of confusion, excitement, soaring voices, choked sobs, moments of restraint, and moments of catharsis—Lu Wei freely expressed himself on the broadcast screen.

He had already torn his shirt and was still waving his arms at the audience; the scene and the commentary were incredibly powerful. Even someone who doesn't understand sports would be infected and feel their heart surge with excitement.

Tears welled in Lu's mother's eyes. She understood that such a frenzied reaction only came from someone who had succeeded under immense pressure. She believed that even she herself would have found it difficult to remain calm when the entire audience booed her. Her son had accomplished this at less than 20 years old. Seeing Lu Wei's growth filled her with both pride and heartache.

Mr. Lu took a sip of tea. The tea was served in a stainless steel cup, a somewhat old-fashioned cup that he had used for many years. Perhaps because they didn't have the financial means to eat too much sugar when they were young, many people of Mr. Lu's generation liked to add a lot of sugar to their tea. Such tea could hardly taste the tea leaves and was essentially just sugar water.

Despite this, Mr. Lu still prefers this flavor of tea, perhaps because it allows him to hold onto the past firmly in his hands.

While watching Lu Wei's competition, his father didn't add any water and drank until the bottom of the cup was completely filled with sugar. The strong sweetness brought Lu's father back to his senses: "Our son has achieved something. We should be happy. Look how somber we are."

"Dear viewers, whether Lu Wei can win the championship depends on Hofa's final shot. Regardless of the final ranking, Lu Wei's performance will be recorded in the history of Chinese sports. Now, Lu Wei is only one obstacle away from becoming a legend in one stop!" Yang Li adjusted his emotions and continued to commentate on the final shot.

Hoffa slowly walked to the center of the throwing arc. When Lu Wei's sixth throw was recorded, he almost collapsed. He nearly squatted down, clutching his head. Just as he instinctively put his hands over his head, he forced himself to pull himself together.

At this moment, it felt like the free-fighting matches I had participated in before. Once you break down mentally, no one will sympathize with you. Your opponent will keep attacking your head until you lose consciousness, at which point the referee will come and stop the fight. It felt like your life was in your opponent's hands, that he could kill you at any moment—a feeling of both shame and frustration.

Hoffa finally calmed himself down. He stood tall in the middle of the arc, stretched his arms, then held the shot put under his chin, bent his knees, and twisted his upper body slightly in the opposite direction.

The crucial moment finally arrived. Hoffa slammed his left foot into the ground, then switched to his right foot as a pivot, and after switching back to his left, he wedged his left foot onto the barrier. This 2.135-meter diameter arc was Hoffa's final battlefield. The spin was perfect, and then came the shot. His coach had said that because he was shorter than others, the angle of his throw was about 35 to 40 degrees.

"He's made his move!" Hofa roared, his eyes fixed on the shot put, unwilling to let go.

Lu Wei stood up and, judging with his naked eye, saw that Hofa's shot put had landed in almost the same spot as his own. The entire audience gasped, then fell silent as everyone waited to see the result of Hofa's final throw.

The two field judges were much more cautious this time when determining the landing point. They only began measuring the shot put's landing point after reaching a consensus.

The referee places a small, stick-like electronic device on the section of the shot put closest to the throwing arc at the point of impact, then presses the measurement button. The data displayed on the device simultaneously appears on the electronic screen.

When Hofa's score was displayed on the big screen, the entire audience erupted in cheers, while the Chinese track and field team fell silent. Liu Cixin, the sprinter, held his head in his hands, somewhat incredulous at what he had witnessed: "It's too cruel! Too cruel! He beat Lu Wei by 3 centimeters, what a pity!"

Hofa's throw was 22.04 meters, and he used his only chance to defeat Lu Wei at the last moment.

Upon seeing this result, Hofa knelt on the ground in excitement, buried his face in his hands, and burst into tears. This was his first World Championship title, and after experiencing the highs and lows of emotions, he finally couldn't control himself and cried out loud.

"Today's match was a true battle of the titans. It's rare to see the two best players achieve their best results in such an important competition. In particular, Lu Wei's performance today, where he disregarded the Asian record, fully demonstrated the strength of this young man. There were no losers in today's match, and both Hofa and Lu Wei will be remembered by everyone!"

As Yang Li's commentary played, Lu's mother wiped away her tears with a tissue: "Sports competitions are so cruel. The championship that was just in their hands was snatched away in a matter of seconds!"

“If he gets all the honors he should have by the age of 19, what meaning will life have for him afterward? I don’t think this result is bad. Young people need to be tempered and honed. If he has the ability, he will always win the championship!” Mr. Lu said with a smile to comfort Mrs. Lu. He also felt regretful, but decades of experience had taught him to take things in stride.

On the shot put field, other athletes came over to shake hands with the two athletes. Lu Wei was a little downcast after seeing Hofa's final throw, but given his current form, that result was already his limit. Losing the competition was simply a matter of skill, and he wasn't too discouraged.

After Hoffa finished crying and making a scene, he calmed down. Only he and Lu Wei remained on the field without exchanging words. This time, the two walked towards each other, shook hands, and bumped chests.

"Dude, I underestimated you. You're really good. But I'm determined to win today's championship. From today onwards, no one can look down on me anymore. I've earned respect with this championship, and you've earned my respect too. I'm telling you, bro, you're driving me crazy..."

Hofa was in a great mood at this moment and started talking non-stop with Lu Wei, sounding a bit like a rapper.

"Fatty, you were really good today. You probably won't be so lucky in another match!" Lu Wei was convinced of his defeat but was not convinced in his heart.

"Then we'll meet again next year. You'll be on your doorstep then, and I'll come to your country and defeat you!"

After they finished speaking, the two went their separate ways. Lu Wei simply threw his shirt, which he had torn in half during the celebration, into the trash can on the field and walked towards the area where the national team was located. The broadcast camera only showed his strong back.