Two minutes pass quickly, and the eight team members report their numbers.
Zara Chapman: 8.
Wendy Aldridge: 15.
Miles Yates: 11.
Lynn Miller: 41.
Gael Prescott: 49.
The other two members got 25 and 35, respectively.
Lynn Miller is a taekwondo coach, Gael Prescott is an athlete—both have been working out for years, so their stamina is obvious.
Miles Yates, who wasn’t feeling well and had just fainted, already pushed himself to the limit to do this much.
Wendy Aldridge’s face was flushed with a strange redness from her acne, yet she never cried out once and actually managed to do 15.
When it came time for Renee Morgan to report her number, there was no doubt she did the most.
"Reporting, sir. Renee Morgan completed... 87." The squad leader replied with a clear voice.
"Eighty-seven? How is that possible..." Everyone gasped in disbelief, even the members of Team Two couldn’t believe it and asked if the squad leader made a mistake.
The squad leader held up the digital device; each person’s reps were recorded. Everyone craned their necks to look and realized they had overreported their counts by two—awkward silence ensued.
The members of Team One hadn’t expected it either—this girl’s physical abilities were so formidable that they looked at each other with resentment in their eyes.
Renee Morgan stood upright, stepped forward, positioned herself in the center, and looked at the boy who’d boasted earlier. She lifted her arm, fist to palm, and calmly declared: "Admit it!"
The boy: "..."
Lynn Miller and the others were stunned for a second but then broke out into thunderous applause.
The livestream chat exploded.
[Admit it!]
[Concede defeat!]
[When has Zhonglia’s kungfu ever lost? Just one word—’admit’—shows the dignity and self-cultivation of a great nation!]
[Haha, look at Zayed’s eyebrows shooting up in anger. Of all people to provoke, you had to pick Renee Morgan. (She’s not just some self-proclaimed Martial Arts Clan heir.)]
[Wow, I tuned in because of a major news story on a certain site—didn’t expect to discover such a gem of a girl. What now? I desperately want to see her wield nunchucks! Hum hum haha...]
[...]
The instructor allowed himself the faintest hint of a smile before quickly covering it: "Everyone, regroup. Prepare for two minutes of push-ups."
Zara Chapman couldn’t hold back her wail: "Sir, we just got off the plane—shouldn’t we get some rest first?"
The instructor looked at her: "You can request a break, but... the top performer today gets a luxury single dorm room."
Zara Chapman had a bad premonition: "And what about the rest of us?"
The instructor answered methodically: "Based on ranking, the worst... gets no dorm room at all."
Zara Chapman was petrified.
Miles Yates and Wendy Aldridge didn’t look so great either.
Push-ups started with Team One.
Two-minute timer: Team One’s best was 89, worst 76.
When it was Team Two’s turn, the PD clearly captured their demoralized expressions.
The livestream audience compared the spirits of the two teams—everyone knew the comparison wasn’t fair, but no one expected Team Two to be slaughtered like this on day one. What’s the point of watching the rest of the training?
[This is just the first day’s fitness test, not the real contest. I believe Team Two will stage a comeback!]
[As if! Didn’t you see that sickly Aqua Emperor almost fainting? His singing is lip-sync, his film won the Aqua Emperor Award, and now he’s still just ’aqua’ in the show.]
[How could you call him Aqua Emperor? Isn’t that an insult to our Aqua? Should be Emperor of Lies! Kidney|weak bro, his fans’ affectionate nickname.]
[Stop roasting him, guys. He wasn’t feeling well today. He even took medicine in the car this morning. Making it this far is already his limit. If the production team had any humanity, they’d let him rest. If something happens, you’ll regret it big time.]
[...]
The chat was chaos, and the scene wasn’t much better.
The results of the two-minute push-up challenge came out fast.
Zara Chapman: 14.
Wendy Aldridge: 7.
Miles Yates: 5.
Lynn Miller: 35.
Gael Prescott: 48.
The other two team members did 18 and 19.
That was already their limit. When they got up from the floor, everyone’s legs were shaking.
Team One’s members lined up neatly, eyes locked on the instructor, waiting for him to announce Renee Morgan’s number.
Not just them—the livestream viewers were waiting too. After being let down by the previous contestants, Renee Morgan carried all their hopes.
The team may lose, but first place must go to one of their own.
Gotta say, this batch of viewers has serious team spirit—bordering on patriotic fervor.
The instructor’s sharp gaze swept the group; as everyone held their breath, he announced, "Renee Morgan, 89."
"Summing up both rounds: Renee Morgan comes in first, Miles Yates is last."
Everyone’s faces flickered with surprise, but not shock. By now it was clear—Renee Morgan had a deep fitness foundation, and regular athletes would have a tough time beating her.
The livestream viewers heard the numbers drop and pounded their keyboards:
[Amazing, Morgan! As steady as ever.]
[Now I want to see her show off nunchucks even more—with Prescott’s music as the soundtrack...]
[She only beat the others by one sit-up? How could such a coincidence happen? Anyone think this is weird? I’m seriously suspecting Morgan was holding back! She can probably score even higher.]
[Hey, just praise her if you want—we’re all Zhonglia folks, no need for over-the-top compliments.]
[Um, weak question: since Emperor of Lies lost, does it still count that the instructor said no place to sleep?]
[...]
The instructor announced the results, ignored everyone’s reactions, packed away the timer: "Alright, that’s it for today’s fitness test. Next, the squad leader will take you to your dorms, the cafeteria, and bathhouse—get familiar with the environment. If you need anything, let your squad leader know."
Once everyone dispersed, Team Two followed their leader toward their dorm area. Unlike the others, the top performer, Renee Morgan, got a luxury room. The rest had individual rooms—small and cramped. Miles Yates had no room and had to sleep in the hallway.
Neither Renee Morgan nor the others believed the instructor was serious, but in the end, the lowest scorer really got no room.
The livestream chat burst into debate:
[The squad leader said earlier, dorm assignments aren’t switched daily—they only shuffle after each evaluation. So Miles Yates has to sleep in the hallway until the next assessment (and he could easily be last again next time).]
[Emperor of Lies sleeping in the hallway—losing face internationally, for real.]
[Actually, the hallway does have its perks. Veteran show fans know—previous seasons’ contestants basically only got four hours of sleep per night, with alarms blaring all the time. Sleeping in the hall means, for one, you hear alarms first, and two, you’re likelier to be the first to the rally point.]
[Guys, look! Wendy Aldridge is suggesting they pitch a tent for her ’bro’—aww, what a sweetheart. Everyone knows the Merrick mosquitoes are poisonous and swarm together; if Miles really sleeps in the hall, he’ll end up as mosquito chow, seriously.]