69novels Page 129
Page 129
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The sound of striking rang out again, fiercer and more focused than before, filled with suppressed anger and a clear objective.
······
Inside the window, Victor had just finished a set of astonishing core strength training.
Sweat streamed down his angular muscles like a stream, dripping onto the wet carpet with a barely audible sound.
But he did not stop. His deep-set eyes were fixed on his reflection in the mirror, and a near-obsessive flame burned deep within his pupils—a cold, scorching thing born from a mixture of the desire to reach the top and the determination to fight for his name.
The ranking battle in June is still a long way off, like a blurry mark on the horizon.
But for Viktor, every breath he took from this moment on was imbued with the scent of battle.
The last defeat, with its significant point deficit, was not only a disgrace on the scoreboard but also a questioning of Viktor's tactics—Viktor knew very well that he had given it his all.
But he clearly remembered the mocking look in his opponent's eyes, the sighs from the audience, and the excruciating pain that almost suffocated him from the three ribs that broke under the heavy blow.
It was that serious injury and recovery that planted a bizarre seed in his frenzied mind.
He was certain that his body—steel bones, iron kidneys, and rapid absorption capabilities—had demonstrated an almost miraculous ability to heal bones quickly after several injuries.
An extreme, even terrifying, idea began to take shape in his mind.
So Victor told Michael his idea.
Michael flatly refused.
Viktor persuaded him again.
Michael refused again.
Victor used his boss's authority, and Michael nodded in agreement.
Then Michael disappeared for a week, and Victor yelled:
"If you don't want to agree, then you don't agree. Why did you run away?"
·······
A knock on the door interrupted Viktor's grueling training.
Michael walked in, bringing with him a chill.
After getting married, this guy always kept his hair neatly combed and wore a well-fitting suit, which seemed somewhat out of place in this training room filled with sweat and male hormones.
"Why aren't you with your wife? What are you doing here?"
“Victor,”
Michael's voice was a little hoarse. He patted a brown paper document bag in his hand. "I brought what you wanted."
Viktor turned around, the flame in his eyes flickering as if he had finally seen the fuel he had been waiting for.
"How is the result?"
His voice was low and hoarse, carrying the fatigue of training, but it couldn't hide his eagerness.
Michael didn't answer directly, but instead pulled four neatly bound reports from the file folder and handed them over.
"This is an expert evaluation report from four of Chicago's best sports injury hospitals and orthopedic institutes. Based on the 'theory' you provided..."
Viktor took the report and flipped directly to the conclusion.
His gaze swept quickly over the rigorous medical terminology and official letterhead.
The first report stated: "...This plan violates medical ethics and carries extremely high potential risks that far outweigh the possible benefits. Our hospital will not consider implementing it."
The second report stated: "...Self-mutilation aimed at achieving tissue reinforcement lacks reliable clinical evidence and may lead to irreversible sequelae; therefore, it is strongly opposed."
The third report stated: "...The hypothesis proposed based on the patient's special physical condition has some theoretical value, but its application in practice is extremely dangerous and is not approved."
The fourth report was the most concise and severe: "...pure nonsense, and is hereby rejected."
Four reports, cold conclusions, from authoritative experts, were like four buckets of cold water, attempting to extinguish the mad flames in Viktor's mind.
“They all refused, Viktor.”
Michael stated the facts calmly, “The top experts have reached almost unanimous conclusions. The theoretically slim possibility is completely overwhelmed by the enormous and uncontrollable risks. No one is willing, and no one dares to do that for you.”
Viktor slammed the report onto the nearby equipment, scattering papers all over the floor.
His face showed no surprise, only an even more intense stubbornness after being denied by authority.
"The theory is feasible! They acknowledged it! Even if only a little!"
Victor growled, pointing at the reports, “They don’t dare because they’re mediocre! They just follow the textbook and never dare to step out of line! But I’m different, Michael, you know me! I know my body!”
He pounded his firm chest with all his might, making a dull thud.
"Look at me! Aren't my three broken ribs thicker and stronger after healing? This is the answer my own body gives me!"
He approached Michael, his eyes burning: "Weakness, Michael! In the boxing ring, any weakness will be magnified infinitely until it is shattered by your opponent! I must become perfect, invincible! Since my body has given me this 'talent,' I must use it!"
Viktor pointed to his body: "The ribs are just the beginning. Next will be the shinbones, the brow bones... I will make every place that can be broken or attacked indestructible!"
Michael looked at his friend, who was almost obsessed, and instead of panicking and trying to dissuade him like most people would, he calmly pushed up his glasses:
“Victor, even if there’s a one in ten thousand chance in theory, who will perform this process? How will the force be controlled? How can we ensure a smooth recovery after the interruption? Have you considered the risks of infection, malunion, or even permanent loss of function?”
"That's why I need you, Michael! I know your wife and her gang are ruthless when they beat people."
Victor grabbed his shoulders. “You’ve always believed I can work miracles, haven’t you? This time too! We don’t need those doctors bound by rules and regulations! We can do it ourselves! Find a reliable place, someone who knows what’s good for them… or, create an ‘accident’.”
The training room fell into dead silence, with only Viktor's heavy breathing breaking the silence.
The cold wind outside the window seemed to hold its breath as well.
Michael remained silent for a long time, so long that Victor almost thought he was going to refuse as well.
Finally, Michael slowly raised his head, a complex light flashing in his eyes—a light of worry and fear, but deeper still, a flame of adventure ignited by Victor's madness, a flame that refused to be ordinary.
“Madman…Victor, you are a complete madman.”
Michael's voice was soft, yet carried a heavy weight of determination, "...I don't know why your bones are stronger; they should be more brittle! But, alright. If you insist on jumping into this fire pit... I'll help you."
A look of wild joy flashed in Victor's eyes.
Michael added sternly, his tone more serious than ever before, “We must plan meticulously, simulate a controlled trauma environment as much as possible, and have all contingency plans in place. And we must start with the ribs, which you mentioned have had successful precedents. If anything unexpected happens during the process, we must stop immediately and get the patient to the hospital! That’s my bottom line, Victor, otherwise I will never participate.”
Victor grinned, a grin that was almost savage: "Deal! I knew it, Michael, you're the best partner!"
Chapter 108 Training and Experiment
On January 7, 1986, the festive atmosphere of the beginning of the new year had not yet completely dissipated.
Chicago was still cold, but the sun managed to pierce through the clouds.
The invited senior brother of the Tai Chi School stood to the side. This man was burly and strong, 1.8 meters tall and weighed 200 kilograms. He was a lawyer and his hands were incredibly powerful.
The reason he was invited was simple—to strike people with his palm strikes.
But he was confused; in his own words:
"I have never encountered such a bizarre request before!"
So once they got there, he had Victor sign a waiver and, with Jimmy, the lawyer, witnessing, certified the substance as valid.
Then, as the eldest brother took out his palm, which was larger than Victor's chest, and smashed the middle brick with one blow, he asked while stretching his body, "Are you sure you want me to break your ribs?"
Victor nodded, utterly fearless: "Don't worry, I won't scream..."
The heavy slap was chilling.
"·····C ···White ···Spoon ·····"
Viktor instantly curled up on the cold concrete floor, his face turning deathly pale. Large beads of sweat seeped from his forehead. He clenched his teeth, letting out a suppressed, painful groan.
"You told me to hit it."
The senior brother stood aside, full of admiration: "What a man! He doesn't even cry out in pain!"
Viktor struggled to raise his hands and pointed to his sides—it wasn't that he didn't want to shout, but that he couldn't shout, he couldn't even speak.
Michael's heart leaped into his throat, and he rushed forward immediately: "Come check me quickly!"
"The ribs...the ribs...it seems...there are quite a few broken..."
Viktor's voice was broken and intermittent due to the excruciating pain: "Hospital...save...me..."
The ambulance arrived right outside and took Victor to a small private hospital that he had contacted beforehand, but who didn't know the full story.
X光片很快出来了：1、2、3、4······12，整整十二根肋骨骨折，伴有轻微肺挫伤。
The eldest brother, who had been accompanying him the whole time, looked at his hand and muttered to himself, "Over the years, my skills have declined; I actually managed to hit his lung?"
Viktor didn't know; all he knew was that he couldn't breathe and felt like he was about to die.
The hospital corridor was filled with the pungent smell of disinfectant, and cold light poured down from above, making everyone's face look pale.
Liz Chen leaned against the cold wall, feeling the chill seeping into her spine—she knew Victor had contacted Michael, and she knew what Michael was doing, but she didn't know they would start so soon!
Her gaze remained fixed on the closed door of the emergency room, while the chilling cracking sound of the two cracks echoed repeatedly in her ears.
She looked at her hands, as if even the pores on them were stained with the violence she had just witnessed.
Then, her gaze drifted uncontrollably to Michael, whose knuckles were a bloody mess, swollen and mangled, and the bloodstains on the wall.
"Are you all crazy?"
Her voice was dry and hoarse, as if it had been sanded on sandpaper. "Twelve ribs! How the hell can he even breathe?"
She practically shouted those words, breaking the oppressive silence in the corridor and drawing a disapproving glance from the nurse who rushed over.
No one answered her.
Michael stood motionless at the emergency room door like a stone statue, only his clenched fists trembling slightly, revealing that he was far from calm.
The answer, of course, is a cruel no.
Viktor was pushed out by the group of people in white coats as fast as he could, his face covered by an oxygen mask, his chest rising and falling so faintly that it was almost invisible, and he was turned directly toward the ICU.
The heavy door closed again, and the red light on it lit up, like a cold, judging eye.
The senior disciple of the Tai Chi School stood to one side, as if he knew he was about to die.