When Lance woke up, it felt like he had been tossed around in a spin dryer for two hours. All the soreness and fatigue from the previous day erupted at once.
Not just moving—even getting out of bed was a challenge.
And yet, Lance clenched his teeth and got up—
In fact, there was a part of him that enjoyed this feeling.
This wasn't the first time Lance had faced challenges, but it was the first time he felt it so intensely on a physical level. It was as if he had touched the ceiling of his own limits, an entirely new sensation.
Ever since he crossed over into this new life, his body, honed from years of mixed martial arts, had always been physically dominant. At least in terms of physical confrontation, he hadn't yet met his match.
Until now.
Lance was curious to find out where his true limits lay and whether he could break through them to reach an even higher level.
One of his goals this offseason was to combine the Lynch Training Template and the Bell Training Template, enhancing his physicality while expanding his skill set.
Now, the opportunity was right in front of him.
Yes, it was exhausting—truly exhausting. But that extreme fatigue carried a unique satisfaction.
On the contrary, Lance found himself even more excited for today's training.
Although every movement sent waves of soreness through his entire body, weighing down his limbs and fogging up his mind, he still forced himself to get up, shaking off the aches and pains—
This time, he didn't forget Mahomes.
After waking Mahomes, Lance ran the same route as the day before, jogging all the way to the training ground with interval sprints to wake up his body and get his blood flowing.
From a distance, he could already see Watt warming up with some light cardio.
Watt was all smiles and full of energy.
"Hey, you're even later than yesterday. Try to do better tomorrow, okay?"
While speaking, Watt even clenched his fist, earnestly cheering him on.
That made Lance laugh heartily. He didn't say a word and just jumped right into training.
Gradually, Mahomes and the rest of the group arrived before 5 a.m., but their spirits looked like they had just been through a hurricane. Maybe only Derek and TJ were in slightly better shape—
After all, they were mentally prepared for this.
Surprisingly, Hopkins showed up.
However, the usual smack-talking Hopkins was now dead silent, his entire demeanor gloomy. Yesterday, he had been the only one to puke his guts out. His pride had been bruised, and he knew that if he didn't give it his all, he'd only embarrass himself again today.
Embarrass himself in front of Lance?
That was absolutely unacceptable for Hopkins.
Not too long ago, in his Clemson alumni group chat, Hopkins had boasted more than once, "That rookie is nothing. He's only riding high because we haven't faced off directly. If I had my shot, I'd show him what a real Tiger can do."
When he learned that Lance would be at Watt's training camp, he was ecstatic:
His chance had come.
But now it seemed unclear whether Hopkins would be the one to teach Lance a lesson, or if he'd just keep embarrassing himself until there was nothing left.
Focus! Be strong! Get your head in the game!
Hopkins kept psyching himself up. If he was tired, then Lance was definitely tired too. This was a test of willpower—how could he lose?
And yet—
Hopkins didn't make it to breakfast.
Yesterday, he was still full of energy, bursting with confidence. But today, with the soreness, fatigue, and accumulated aches from the previous day, his muscles felt heavy, his body sluggish, and he fell behind on every drill.
Not just Hopkins; everyone was struggling.
Including Lance. And even Watt himself.
Watt wasn't just tough on his friends; he was toughest on himself.
In the end, Watt barely finished ahead of schedule, while Lance and another person crossed the line just in time—
Lance was gasping for air, and TJ was too tired to even speak.
Everyone else failed to make the cut.
Mahomes was five minutes late, crossing the line with Cameron Jordan.
When Hopkins finally stumbled across the line, Watt had already finished his massage session, and thankfully, Lance and the others were still finishing up breakfast.
At least the cafeteria wasn't empty.
Honestly, Hopkins didn't even have an appetite.
He knew he needed to refuel his body, even if it meant forcing food down, but he was so exhausted that his spirit was broken. He felt nauseous just looking at food.
And then, to top it off, he had to see Lance's face.
Hopkins thought Lance would mock him, rubbing it in his face.
But Lance didn't.
"Hey, you can quit training anytime. You can drop out whenever you want. But you can't do that in a game. You don't want to find yourself on the field, desperate to keep fighting, only to realize your body can't handle it."
Hopkins felt a breath catch in his throat. "I'll beat you on the field."
Lance smiled. "Please. Be my guest. Face me head-on on the field. I'll be waiting."
With that, Lance turned and joined Mahomes and Kelce, heading for their post-workout massages, leaving Hopkins standing there, dumbfounded.
Kelce rolled his eyes. "He was trash-talking you just now, and you still gave him advice? Man, you've got too much energy. You don't need to give JJ that much face."
Lance shook his head. "It's not entirely for JJ. It's just that if he quits too early, it's going to get boring, right? No rivals, no competition—it would just be dull."
Kelce: … "You're treating him like a catfish, huh?"
It's true what they say: "There's always a higher mountain."
Lance was clearly playing the long game.
Mahomes looked at Lance with admiration, his eyes sparkling with new understanding.
No wonder Smith had said that if Mahomes wanted to become a true leader, he should learn from Lance. Despite being a rookie and a Chinese-American player, Lance had quickly become the cornerstone of the Chiefs.
Now, Mahomes started to get it—
The presence of a rival, even a strong one, wasn't necessarily a bad thing. If anything, it could be the driving force that pushed you to be better.
Training continued, with the same intensity and quality as the first day.
There were no breaks, no adjustments. Day after day, the grueling high-intensity training persisted—not just the physical workouts during the day, but also the tactical meetings at night. Three hundred and sixty degrees of unrelenting challenge.
Even Lance found himself struggling at times, stumbling here and there.
Villani had half-expected Lance to quit.
After all, Lance had just come off a historic rookie season, even winning Super Bowl MVP. He had proven himself. From any perspective, he had no need to push himself this hard during the offseason.
Most young athletes, after such a breakout season, would be riding high, overflowing with confidence. Even if they weren't complacent, they wouldn't be torturing themselves like this.
Even if Lance gave up now, Villani wouldn't blame him.
But Lance didn't quit.
Despite the pain and exhaustion, despite the harshness of the training regimen, he gritted his teeth and kept going. Not just through the physical drills during the day, but the tactical meetings at night too.
And that… wasn't even the end of it.
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Powerstones?
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