I searched and fought in America.

Bench press 200, squat 260, deadlift 310.

This broke the Iron Claw Gang's highest records in these three categories. What a feat! At this moment, the atmosphere became enthusiastic, and thunderous applause rang out.

Such a glorious achievement caused some whispers among the crowd.

"He's too strong. Caesar was already strong before, and now he's broken through again."

"Yeah, I have a feeling the Chosen One is in a bit of a predicament. Good marksmanship doesn't necessarily mean great strength. Caesar trained for over ten years; it's hard to surpass him, isn't it?"

"What do you mean? Are you questioning the people God has chosen?"

"Fuck, don't try to pin this on me. Even though he has the Iron Claw Token, it's still unknown whether the other party is God's chosen one."

"I feel that he should have no problem passing the test, but surpassing Caesar will be difficult."

Under everyone's gaze, Caesar walked towards Rosen, his eyes arrogant. He raised his chin at Rosen, and although he didn't say anything, the meaning was clear: it's your turn.

Rosen didn't say much. He wasn't affected by the whispers of the crowd or Caesar's provocative gaze. He believed that strength would speak for itself. He silently walked to the bench press rack.

He glanced at the discus at both ends of the barbell and said calmly, "Add a 10-kilogram disc to each side."

The room fell silent.

Caesar's eyelids twitched, which meant the total weight would reach 220 kilograms.

"Uh, are you sure?"

The Iron Claw gang member responsible for adding the discus glanced at Rosen hesitantly. He wouldn't have said anything if it were just five kilograms, but this time it was 20 kilograms.

In his view, wasn't the other party just acting impulsively? He was thinking of increasing the weight to intimidate Caesar, but you have to lift it! If you can't lift it, then I'll say 400 kilograms is fine.

"add."

Rosen confirmed.

"Alright."

This underling was one of Caesar's men, so their perception of Rosen was somewhat more complex than that of the other gang members.

Rosen lay down, and unlike Caesar, he didn't make an exaggerated bridge movement; he simply gripped the club calmly and struck the ball.

The enormous weight landed in his hands, and he was easily pushed up, touched his chest, and then pushed again.

The 220-kilogram barbell was thus smoothly pushed up the hill.

After pushing, Rosen sat up. He was slightly out of breath, but it was obvious to anyone that he still had energy left.

But this is 220 kilograms, 220 kilograms, and it was pushed up so easily.

The stark contrast between the immense weight and the effortless posture stunned Caesar and everyone else present.

Almost instinctively, everyone wondered if the other party had cheated, but that shouldn't be the case, because the barbell Rosen was using was the same one Caesar had used before, and it was even an improvement on Caesar's version with two additional iron plates.

After finishing the chest press, Rosen walked to the squat area.

"Increase to 300 kilograms."

Rosen called out to the underling who was still stunned at the chest massager. The underling looked a little bewildered, but instinctively walked over and adjusted the corresponding values ​​for Rosen.

Upon hearing this number, the expressions of the surrounding audience and Caesar became extremely interesting, and even Maurice's hand trembled slightly.

Rosen crawled under the pole, then took two steps back, his feet firmly planted on the ground.

The barbell was slowly lowered, and then at the lowest point, Rosen suddenly burst out.

bass!

With a whoosh, he lifted the 300-kilogram barbell.

As the heavy object landed, everyone's emotions, like the ground itself, trembled violently.

At this moment, the arrogance on Caesar's face had vanished, replaced by disbelief.

Finally, deadlifts.

Rosen stood in front of the barbell, looking at the barbell plates that had been pushed to their limit.

350 kilograms.

In everyone's eyes, Rosen was no longer undergoing an assessment or responding to Caesar's challenge; instead, he was demonstrating his powerful dominance in the most savage and direct way.

Rosen bent over, gripped the handles with both hands, inhaled, and tightened his back.

Up!

The barbell plates collided with each other, making a crisp sound, and the alloy barbell bar began to bend slightly, as if afraid it would break at any moment.

Rosen acted like a hydraulic jack, lifting the 350-kilogram weight off the ground.

He performed a series of movements with fluid grace, and finally, he paused at the top for a full eight seconds.

Boom!

The barbell hit the ground, and the huge vibration made the feet of those standing in the front row go numb.

Silence, utter silence. No one was cheering, or rather, they had run out of things to say.

Rosen straightened up and gently patted the magnesium powder off his hands.

He turned his head and looked at Caesar, who stood to the side looking somewhat lost and dejected.

Caesar stared intently at the barbell on the ground, then glanced at Rosen, who seemed to still have some strength left.

He's an expert, so he understands the difference better than anyone else.

That's not a gap that can be closed by practicing for a few more years; it's a chasm of talent and strength.

After a long while, Caesar clenched his fists and then loosened them, and his originally straight back seemed to bend slightly.

"How about it? This number is not bad, right?"

Rosen asked with a smile.

Caesar pursed his lips, looked down at his hands, and his voice was dry.

"...I lost."

After a long silence, Maurice was the first to break it.

This time, he didn't look at the notebook in his hand, nor did he ask for anyone else's opinion. Instead, he walked straight to Rosen, bowed slightly, and spoke with an unprecedented level of respect:

"Mr. Rosen, you have passed the second test of the Iron Claw Trial perfectly."

The old man said:

"Although you don't look tired, according to the gang rules, the third test requires all official members of the Iron Claw Gang to be present to witness it."

Furthermore, considering that you have just undergone a high-intensity physical exertion, for the sake of fairness, the third assessment will be held tomorrow morning.

At this point, Morris made a guiding gesture:

"I have prepared a private resting place for you tonight. Please follow me."

Rosen nodded, casually grabbed the coat draped over his shoulders, and strode out as the gang members automatically parted to make way for him.

Behind me, the murmurs in the gym finally erupted, but this time, there was no doubt, only uncontrollable amazement.

Marksmanship represents the ultimate skill, while these three terrifying statistics represent absolute physical fitness and strength.

In these two areas, Rosen demonstrated not only strength, but a dominance that left ordinary people in despair.

It's unclear who started it, but a title with strong religious connotations began to quietly spread among the people—"Child of God".

In the eyes of these devout followers, Rosen, who could overwhelm ordinary people in every aspect and who had descended upon the Iron Claw Gang at this particular time, was the agent personally chosen by the supreme God, the shepherd who had come to save and lead them.

---

A flop author's musings, part 8: [About collecting]

My collection count is like my hairline, growing as slowly as a snail and falling as fast as lightning. The only difference is that my hairline is gone forever, but my collection count can occasionally increase by a couple thanks to mutual help.