13: Chapter 13 Breathing, Rhythm!

At nine o'clock sharp in the morning, the starting gun fired.

The crowd surged forward.

The Jiangcheng Marathon was a triennial, city-wide event with no entry requirements; anyone interested could sign up. Professional athletes and amateurs competed on the same field. The course started from the City Sports Center and followed Jiangcheng's main road in a loop around the city, totaling forty-two kilometers.

The starting line was packed with a dense mass of people dressed in all sorts of attire: professional running shoes paired with compression pants, ordinary sportswear with canvas shoes, and even some joining the fun in mascot costumes. The sides of the track were crowded with citizens watching, holding up their phones to take photos and videos, creating a festive atmosphere.

Among the crowd was a young man in his mid-twenties. He had a sturdy build with well-defined muscles and was wearing professional Marathon gear—compression wear, quick-dry shorts, and carbon-plated running shoes. He clearly looked like a seasoned runner.

His name was Chen Rui, a retired middle-to-long-distance athlete from the Provincial Sports Team who now worked as a coach at a gym in Jiangcheng. He was determined to win this Marathon, which would also serve as an advertisement for his gym. He certainly wouldn't miss this opportunity. He had trained for three months before the race, with his pace precise down to the minutes and seconds per kilometer; his goal today was to finish under three hours and ten minutes.

As soon as the starting gun fired, Chen Rui began at his own pace. His speed was steady, his breathing was calm, and his heart rate was controlled at around one hundred and fifty beats per minute—a textbook Marathon running style.

For the first hundred meters, the crowd was still bunched together as everyone tried to find their rhythm.

Then, a gust of wind suddenly swept past him.

Whoosh!

A figure blurred past his left side so fast that Chen Rui only had time to see a vague outline: white sportswear with the words "The First Peoples Hospital" printed on the back, and a heavy first-aid kit clutched in his right hand.

He shot out with a "whoosh."

Chen Rui nearly lost his footing.

No way.

What kind of speed was that?

He instinctively glanced at his sports watch; his current pace was four and a half minutes per kilometer, which was already quite fast for an amateur.

But the speed of that person just now was, by his estimation, at least twice his own!

And he was even carrying that box that looked incredibly heavy!

But...

This is a Marathon, man!

Forty-two kilometers!

This isn't a hundred-meter sprint!

What are you doing sprinting out now???

What is the core of a Marathon? It's the distribution of stamina, the rhythm of breathing, and the control of heart rate—finishing the race in the most economical way. If you sprint too fast at the start, you'll definitely collapse later; this is an iron rule that any experienced runner knows.

Those who sprint with everything they've got right from the start are either greenhorns running their first Marathon or people just there to be funny.

Chen Rui shook his head, withdrew his gaze, and continued running at his own pace.

Just wait; at most five kilometers in, that guy will be flat on the ground.

...

On both sides of the track, the spectating citizens also noticed that white figure.

"Holy crap, did you guys see that? That guy just now!"

"That speed... how does it feel like those sprinters I saw during the Olympics?"

"And he's even carrying a box! That box clearly isn't light! Who is this guy? His stamina is insane!"

"Damn, I just realized this is a Marathon, not a hundred-meter sprint. Did this guy go to the wrong venue? Or is he just here for a laugh?"

"Oh right, I heard Jiangcheng required The First Peoples Hospital to provide a medical support team to run along. Could it be them?"

"Eh? Where'd he go? How did he disappear in the blink of an eye?"

Everyone craned their necks to look ahead on the track, but that white figure had long since vanished into the crowd.

...

Su Ye slowed his pace.

He had just wanted to test his current explosive power. He couldn't measure how much his body had changed from these past few days of cultivation just by crushing can lids in his rented room... So, after learning about the Marathon, he had actually felt a bit eager.

The results were even more exaggerated than he had expected.

"I didn't even use my full strength just now. By a rough estimate, my total explosive power should be more than three times that of a national-level sprinter. This period of cultivation hasn't been in vain," Su Ye thought with satisfaction.

The moment he started running, he only exerted a little force and felt as if his legs were fitted with springs. Every step off the ground provided propulsion far exceeding that of an ordinary person. The wind whistled past his ears, and the figures around him receded rapidly in his vision. The first-aid kit in his right hand weighed about fifteen kilograms, but in his hand, it felt light, like he was carrying an empty schoolbag.

At that moment, he even got a bit carried away, wanting to see how fast he could run at full speed.

But reason quickly pulled him back.

Keep a low profile.

Su Ye quickly slowed down and merged into the middle of the crowd, burying himself among the dense pack of runners so he would no longer stand out.

He jogged along the track for a while and soon saw three familiar figures ahead.

Sister Su Bei, Wang Dandan, and Wang Luo were keeping a steady pace in the middle of the pack. Sister Su Bei's steps were steady and composed; Wang Dandan was already starting to pant slightly but was still persevering; Wang Luo's face was flushed bright red, but the smile on his face hadn't faded at all.

The atmosphere of the Marathon was indeed infectious. Surrounded by people running—old and young, fast and slow—everyone was heading in the same direction. That sense of collective rhythm would make one unconsciously keep running. Even Wang Dandan hadn't given up.

Su Ye caught up from behind and ran alongside them.

Wang Dandan was the first to notice him, her eyes widening as she panted, "Great Su? Where did you go just now? You vanished as soon as the race started!"

Sister Su Bei also turned to glance at him, a hint of curiosity in her eyes.

Wang Luo was more direct: "Brother Su, did you sprint to the very front just now? I think I saw a white blur go 'whoosh' and disappear. Was that you?"

Su Ye replied without changing his expression, "You must have seen wrong; that probably wasn't me. But I haven't run in a long time, so I just gave it a try to see if my body had rusted over."

The three of them nodded in understanding.

It made sense; they rarely exercised now. Usually, they were busy standing next to their teachers for consultations, writing medical records, or assisting in surgeries. They were so busy their feet barely touched the ground, so where would they find time to run? It was normal to occasionally sprint to test their leg strength.

Then Wang Luo's gaze fell on the first-aid kit Su Ye was carrying in his right hand.

"Um... Brother Su, are you really going to keep carrying that while you run?" He looked at the heavy box and then at how Su Ye wasn't even out of breath, swallowing hard. "How about we take turns? After all, having to run while holding this..."

Su Ye gave the first-aid kit a little shake, his teeth flashing in a grin.

"It's nothing."

Looking at Su Ye's relaxed and effortless expression, then at his own already aching arms, Wang Luo silently tightened his grip on his own small, simple first-aid kit.

This is just ridiculous!

Meanwhile, Sister Su Bei and Wang Dandan's eyes sparkled. It had to be said, having such a physical powerhouse in the team was fantastic. Otherwise, just running would be hard enough for them; if they had to carry a box like that, it would be the death of them!