The moment he was pushed out, Zhou Zhiyi felt like a skyscraper in an earthquake, swaying precariously. If nothing changed, he’d collapse to the ground any second.

If that happened now, his class would have to bow out in last place.

If an earlier runner fell, others could still save it. But if the second-to-last runner fell, there’d be no chance to recover. Not even Wu Feng, blessed with a protagonist aura, could fix that.

Zhou Zhiyi felt that second stretch endlessly. His body leaned forward. His feet screamed in pain, as if he’d topple the next moment.

But that wasn’t allowed.

Zhou Zhiyi clenched his teeth. Like someone struck by sudden illness, he fought to steady his steps. His body strained to regain balance.

“Whoa! Go, Zhou Zhiyi! Go!”

Li Han roared like he was cheering for his favorite soccer team. He’d thought the race was over when Zhou Zhiyi nearly fell. But Zhou Zhiyi didn’t fall. He paused for less than half a second, then surged forward.

Wind whispered in Zhou Zhiyi’s ears. Truth be told, even the summer breeze felt hot.

Zhou Zhiyi knew he’d succeeded, but it wasn’t enough to win first place. Even with his foot injury stabbing his nerves, he had to sprint.

He didn’t know his current rank. He had no time to check. His eyes were fixed on Qin Huan, not far ahead. Dropping the baton was absolutely forbidden, especially in front of Qin Huan.

But then, Zhou Zhiyi felt a terrible malice. His feet suddenly gave out. Unconsciously, he began to fall. Zhou Zhiyi toppled forward like an Ultraman whose light had gone out.

He was only a few meters from the end. Zhou Zhiyi thought helplessly, but he had to accept it.

Just then, Qin Huan rushed out. Before Zhou Zhiyi could hit the ground, he caught the baton.

The referee said nothing, as if he hadn’t seen it. This was the legendary act of turning a blind eye.

Zhou Zhiyi crawled on the ground. Slowly, he propped himself up and sat. He turned to watch Qin Huan’s back, determined to see the final moment.

Qin Huan was already in second place. Zhou Zhiyi figured he must have been at least third. The Athletic Second Male Fate really came in handy…

Zhou Zhiyi thought this, ignoring his scraped knee.

“Zhou Zhiyi, be kind to yourself. Go to the infirmary?” Li Han walked over and said softly.

“I’ll go after I watch this. I’m waiting for Wu Feng’s performance.” Zhou Zhiyi smiled. He knew what the outcome would be.

“True,” Li Han said, looking ahead. “That kid Wu Feng is really fast.”

After Wu Feng took the baton from Qin Huan, he sprinted wildly. His face flushed crimson. Are you sure you didn’t take some drugs?

The final runners from other classes were no pushovers. They sprinted like they were flying, desperately fighting for their class’s honor.

Class 2’s last runner looked strong, clearly well-trained. He quickly overtook Wu Feng, taking second place.

“Go! Go!”

“Charge! Wu Feng!”

“Wu Feng, overtake Class 1 and Class 2!”

Zhou Zhiyi’s ears filled with cheers from his class. Even Liu Yongxue shouted loudly, abandoning her ladylike teacher image.

Wu Feng sprinted faster and faster, like he’d taken stimulants. He overtook Class 2’s runner again, reclaiming second place.

Ten meters left.

Wu Feng was still half a body length behind Class 1’s student. Coincidentally, Zhou Zhiyi knew him. His name was Deng Mowei. Zhou Zhiyi knew him from playing basketball together.

He was great at basketball, but against the Athletic Second Male Fate, he wasn’t good enough. And now, he couldn’t compete with the male lead aura.

“Long live Wu Feng!”

“Wu Feng, you’re really something!”

“Is this the legendary act of pretending to be weak to defeat the strong?”

…

At the last moment, Wu Feng overtook the incredibly fast Deng Mowei. It was nothing short of a miracle. Everyone surrounded Wu Feng, lifted him up, and tossed him like a championship-winning coach…