The Showdown

"He popped the basketball?" 

"My god, that's some serious strength."

"No, that's not just strength, that's amazing Chinese Kungfu, that is Chinese Kungfu."

"What? Chinese Kungfu is that powerful?!"

"Beat them up, Chinese Kungfu, beat them with Chinese Kungfu."

"Oh my god, this is insane, Chinese Kungfu is going to make those ten guys regret this."

The crowd, previously quiet and filming, erupted upon witnessing Elon crush the basketball with his bare hands. Their shock was palpable, their phones capturing the moment more vigorously as they marveled at the mysterious prowess of Chinese Kungfu—a mythic aspect of a mystical nation's culture, steeped in thousands of years of history.

In their imagination, Chinese Kungfu is mythical and mighty. Defeating hundreds single-handedly seemed trivial; hadn't they just watched a Chinese man effortlessly pop a basketball? Which of the muscular men present could achieve such a feat? None. Hence the awe for Chinese Kungfu.

Some bystanders even made panicked calls to the police.

"Hello, police? There's about to be a Chinese Kungfu smackdown on ten muscleheads here, you better come quick. Those muscle guys might get seriously hurt."

Elon's display not only shocked the spectators but also unnerved Jets and his team. They were all men with greater strength than average, each a towering figure, intimidating to most. Yet even they could not burst a basketball with bare hands. How much force was needed? They didn't know, but surely no one else there could perform such a feat as effortlessly as Elon had, further driving their alarm.

"What's going on?"

"Could this be Chinese Kungfu?"

"How could this be? We've bullied Chinese before."

"Did we just happen to mess with someone who knows Chinese Kungfu?"

"What? That's just our rotten luck! Chinese Kungfu, as the legends say, can knock out a hundred with a single strike."

"Should we... run?"

Amid their murmuring and deliberation, silence eventually took hold; they realized they had indeed hit an iron wall. Even with his slender form, Elon outwardly challenged the ten of them with an ease that belied their power dynamic. With stern words and a demonstration of raw power by bursting the basketball, they were convinced that without a doubt, he held formidable skill.

"What do you want?" Jets asked with a serious look. Elon's basketball feat had been intimidating, and he dared not underestimate him any longer.

Elon wasn't inclined to use his superior abilities to compel their apology. To him, that felt like forceful submission rather than a gesture born of genuine respect for every individual. He worried that if he used his might now, the next time they met someone else from China without his capabilities, the bullying would simply continue. This wasn't the outcome Elon wanted.

Now with a more harmonious outlook and integration into this world, Elon preferred a method of guidance or influence—not in their hearts, as one could not predict what lay there, but at least in the way they respect every being with their words.

Understanding the impossibility of changing their entrenched beliefs, Elon decided it was paramount that bullies face the consequences of their actions.

"I don't plan on hitting you. Even if I did, it would only breed further resentment. Let's have a contest: all ten of you against me. If I win, you bow to me for one minute and apologize."

Initially, he contemplated demanding them to kneel as atonement, but that punishment for mere verbal insults seemed too severe, potentially redirecting their anger onto other Chinese people. A minute-long bow before onlookers felt just right—sufficiently humiliating to balance the initial disparagement.

Jets' expression eased, and though surprised by Elon's choice to avoid a fight, he understood the intention behind the challenge. A humbling experience publicly could bring about self-reflection, possibly deterring future acts of bullying.

"Arm wrestling," Elon decided, eyeing their robust arms. Supremacy needs to be established where pride is highest. Let's see who's truly stronger.

"You're on," said Jets, respecting Elon's terms. "If we win, I'll apologize sincerely since I spoke out of turn first."

Inside, Jets admired Elon's restraint despite his formidable power. True respect, he realized, didn't come from awe at one's might, but from the dignity in choosing not to misuse it.

Both men were now poised for the challenge, about to test the true strength of Chinese Kungfu against brawn—not in a brawl, but in an arm wrestling duel that symbolized much more than just physical might.