Being carried onto an ambulance at the start? But this is America!

"Boss, are you really going to arm wrestle with Devon?"

Fletcher, who was already preparing to take his henchmen on a patrol, immediately squeezed back upon hearing this, his dreadlocks swaying excitedly, his face full of anticipation for a good show.

"flat,"

Zack, who was holding his laptop, pushed up his thick glasses and couldn't help but whisper a reminder, his tone carrying the rationality of a tech geek.

"Our core competency, I believe, should be a flexible mind and, well, business strategy, rather than pure physical strength."

"Boss, I think it would be more suitable for us to have a competition!"

Fletcher grinned and rolled up his sleeves, showing off his well-defined, but not exactly muscular, arms, honed from years of homelessness and odd jobs.

"Boss, really?"

Even Devon's honest face showed surprise. He looked at Li Ping's muscular build, which was clearly two sizes smaller than his own, and was somewhat uncertain.

The henchmen around him looked at each other in bewilderment. In their simple street logic, it was certainly good if the boss could fight, but what seemed more important was that he could make money and pay salaries.

The weight difference between the two is so significant that it's hard to understand why they started arguing.

"It seems necessary to demonstrate another side of our strength."

Li Ping smiled, his tone relaxed, but his eyes became serious. "At our Dongda University, we have a saying: 'Well-rounded in both academics and martial arts.'"

"Fletcher, let's go first, the two of us!"

Having a good brain isn't enough to control certain situations.

He wanted these new, still somewhat street-savage underlings to understand that he, their boss, wasn't just all talk and no action.

"We support the boss!"

Upon hearing that he would be compared to Fletcher first, the quick-witted underling immediately shouted, regardless of his true feelings, he had to put on a good show.

Who says Americans don't understand human relationships? Li Ping thinks they are very perceptive.

However, he is indeed capable, and he is confident that he can beat his younger brother today. It's just unknown how he compares to Devin.

You don't need to win; just being able to hold on for one minute is enough to earn everyone's respect.

"Boss, we're evenly matched, but I can only last three seconds against Devin. You'll see after we finish."

Fletcher came to Devon's seat, and Li Fan looked at him with pity.

He knew his brother's arm-wrestling skills well; yesterday he could hold out for a minute against him, but Fletcher only lasted five seconds today.

"Haha, I look forward to your performance." Li Fan was also ready.

"Who are you betting on to win?"

"I think it's Fletcher. He's been on the streets for many years. Although he's not as tall as Ping, he's not afraid of pain. His build is about the same, so he shouldn't be underestimated."

"I bet them ten seconds on breakfast, but the boss will win in the end."

The Mexican-American guy rolled his eyes and loudly echoed, but in his heart he was thinking about how to flatter in a more natural way.

Amid the discussion, Li Ping and Fletcher sat down at the table first.

The two men clasped arms. Although Fletcher was a little shorter than Li Ping, his physique, honed by his life as a wanderer, was quite sturdy, and he had a touch of nonchalant confidence on his face.

However, to be fair, he noticed that the boss's muscle lines were smoother, making him look very handsome, even more handsome than Devon.

Yes, his muscular physique is truly handsome!

"Three, two, one... Go!" The German referee had barely finished speaking—

"Bang!"

With a muffled thud, Fletcher's arm was slammed hard onto the table with lightning speed, the whole process taking less than half a second.

"What the...?!"

Fletcher's smile froze, instantly replaced by utter bewilderment.

He's already putting in his effort!

But just a moment ago, it felt like I was hit by an iron rod.

The onlookers were stunned for a moment.

The henchmen were initially startled, but then the Mexican man looked at Fletcher with a look of sudden realization and immense admiration—"Brilliant!"

To please his boss, Fletcher faked the fall so convincingly that it looked real!

This emotional intelligence, this awareness, is something I must learn!

"Hey, Fletcher, you collapsed before I even saw you? You're obviously holding back!"

Old Mike laughed heartily, took a swig of beer, and clearly thought Fletcher was deliberately throwing the game.

"No, I wasn't prepared, my hand slipped!"

Fletcher's face flushed red, partly from embarrassment and anger, and partly from genuine disbelief.

He's been involved in many street fights and brawls, so he's confident in his strength. How could he be so easily defeated?

"Okay, I'll give you one more chance."

Li Ping smiled indifferently and readjusted his pose.

This time, Fletcher put in all his effort, veins bulging on his forehead, his jaw clenched.

However, Li Ping's arm was like a steel pillar welded to the table, and no matter how much Fletcher gritted his teeth and tried his best, he could not budge it an inch.

Then, Li Ping began to slowly press down, at a uniform speed, with terrifyingly stable force.

Fletcher fought desperately, but his arm could only be pressed against the table inch by inch, irreversibly.

"Bang."

The second time the sound touched the tabletop, it was much quieter, yet it silenced the entire gym corner.

Fletcher, panting heavily, watched as Li Ping easily withdrew his hand. The resentment on his face vanished completely, leaving only naked shock and a trace of awe.

"Boss, you don't look like the typical big guy. How did you train to be so strong? I feel like you're no worse than Li Fan and Devin!"

Zack pushed up his glasses, his eyes gleaming behind the lenses, and whispered excitedly, "Ping really knows Eastern Kung Fu; it must be some kind of power-generating technique!"

The Mexican-American boy secretly gave Fletcher a thumbs up.

His eyes were like he was looking at an Oscar winner. Fletcher is truly being overlooked on the streets; he should be in Hollywood!

Look at this acting, it's layered and progressive. First, he fakes a fall to show weakness, then he fights back with all his might, showing that he is still honorable even in defeat. This demonstrates the boss's strength and also shows that he did his best.

A master! This is a master!

"Come on, Fletcher, stop trying to justify yourself. You're just too weak."

Old Mike refused to believe it. He put down his beer can, wiped his mouth, and said, "Ping isn't weak, but compared to Devon? Look at their size!"

He gestured with his fingers to highlight the stark difference in size between the two men, his tone carrying the wisdom of a veteran.

"In hand-to-hand combat, a weight difference of one pound is an insurmountable barrier. In pure strength-based confrontations like arm wrestling, size doesn't lie; I've seen plenty of that during my military service."

Tonnage is justice, size doesn't lie, and Fletcher has exaggerated too much.

"Let's make a bet, Mike. I bet the boss can last at least a minute under Devon!"

Fletcher's face flushed red with rage at Mike's weak response; his dreadlocks practically stood on end. He retorted defiantly, "If you lose, I'll buy you a month's supply of cheap whiskey. If you win, you get me ten bottles of painkillers!"

"make a deal!"

Old Mike took a big gulp of beer. "I'm betting. Look at my size. One minute? Boss, you'll be lucky to last half a minute!"

"I'm betting on Mike!"

"I believe in the boss, the boss will win!"

The new underlings immediately started making a fuss, each one louder than the last.

Those who manage to sneak into the camp in the morning are all clever ones; no matter what they think in their hearts, they have to say they're on the right side.

The atmosphere in the fitness corner was instantly ignited.

The stark contrast between Devon's towering physique and Li Ping's lean build made what seemed like a lopsided contest incredibly suspenseful due to Fletcher's bet.

"Boss, would you like to take a break?" Devon asked honestly, rubbing his large, fan-like hands together.

"Need not,"

Li Ping flexed his wrists, a relaxed smile on his face. "Let's get this over with quickly, we still have work to do later."

Taking down Fletcher just now was no different than a warm-up.

This braided kid looks fierce, but he's only slightly stronger than when he first transmigrated. With his body enhanced by the [Wanderer] talent, beating him is like child's play.

Their hands clasped together again.

Devon's palms were thick and rough, covered with calluses, completely enveloping Li Ping's hands.

The visual difference alone made the onlookers very nervous. It would be a miracle if it didn't collapse in ten seconds, let alone a minute!

Devon stopped grinning and his expression became serious and solemn.