Victory! A Miracle?

Far off in the distance, Coach Yu clenched his fists so tightly that his nails were nearly piercing his flesh, but he seemed oblivious to the pain.

"Come on! Hold on! You have to hold on! If you can maintain this for another 20 meters, no one can challenge your lead, and the gold medal will be yours!" Coach Yu's expression had become twisted with intensity.

Winning the gold medal was his greatest hope at that moment.

In the Olympic Village, athletes from the national team who did not have events that day had gathered around the large television in the recreation room to watch the race.

"Zhang Guan is in the lead!" Liu Feiren (Liu the Flying Man) stared intently at the screen. He had a premonition that Zhang Guan would win in the end! It was a simple instinct, the intuition of a world-class athlete!

In front of the TV, Mr. Chen was quietly reclining in his chair, watching Zhang Guan on the screen. Despite the excitement of the moment, he felt an unusual calmness.

"You can do it! I know you can do it! This is your world! Go for the championship!" Mr. Chen murmured to himself.

It was pure, unreserved trust in Zhang Guan!

"Zhang Guan is in first! First place!" The commentator could no longer maintain his composure. After hours of non-stop work, his body was extremely fatigued, but at this moment, his emotions were soaring.

"Come on! Hold it! Zhang Guan! Faster! He's going even faster! His lead is growing! No one can surpass him now! The finish line is in sight! Come on, come on, come on! Go, Zhang Guan! Zhang Guan! Zhang Guan!"

The commentator was almost incoherent. Perhaps he didn't even realize what he was saying, but every viewer in front of their TV understood perfectly. Even though he was simply shouting Zhang Guan's name, it was the most beautiful commentary they could hear.

On the outermost lane, Zhang Guan had emerged as the clear leader.

At this moment, Zhang Guan was experiencing an indescribable sense of exhilaration—a thrilling sense of progress, a joyful sprint, an ecstatic dash. He was reveling in this feeling, as if he had the entire world under his control.

"So, this is what it feels like to be in peak condition? This sensation is amazing! It's addictive…"

Zhang Guan knew that he felt this way because his energy and condition were at their maximum. He felt incredibly energetic and in an unstoppable state. It wasn't just excitement; it was a feeling of being in control of the world!

This was his strongest moment!

Another ten meters passed, and Zhang Guan's lead was already very apparent.

Behind him, Maurice Greene was giving it everything he had, but all he could see was the back of Zhang Guan.

"Is the gap really this large?" Greene knew that the finish line was not far off. With such a gap, it was impossible for him to catch up.

"Why? Why is this happening? Did he not expend energy in the semifinals? How is his condition even better than it was before?" A flood of questions raced through Greene's mind. He glanced briefly at his other two teammates and realized that the famed "speed endurance" of American athletes was completely ineffective against Zhang Guan.

At the same time, Gatlin noticed that the gap between him and Zhang Guan was widening. He had been waiting for Zhang Guan to slow down due to fatigue, but instead, Zhang Guan only seemed to be getting faster.

"He must be running out of steam, but why is he still so fast, so close to the finish line? No! He's faster than he was in the semifinals! This speed, I've never reached it! With such a gap, how could I possibly catch up to him?"

On the adjacent lane, Obikwelu from Portugal was catching up.

Obikwelu had once been the fastest man in Africa, and now he was the fastest in Europe. In terms of physical talent, he was on par with American athletes.

Having lost the lead and now facing being overtaken, Gatlin was momentarily thrown off balance.

At the 90-meter mark, Zhang Guan had established an absolute lead, with only 10 meters left to the finish line. This lead was irreversible.

Zhang Guan surged ahead, with Gatlin and Obikwelu neck and neck, vying for second place.

Further behind, defending champion Maurice Greene was closing in on Gatlin and Obikwelu, seeking a last-minute comeback.

But Zhang Guan was still immersed in the feeling of being at the top of his game. It wasn't until the finish line appeared at his feet that he snapped back to reality. He then realized that there was no one on his left.

"Where are they? How did they disappear?" Zhang Guan was momentarily puzzled. He turned his head slightly but still couldn't see anyone. He had to turn almost completely around before he saw the other runners' grim faces as they sprinted towards the finish.

"To have such a huge lead already, the others must really be struggling," Zhang Guan thought to himself.

In front of him, the photographer captured the perfect moment: Zhang Guan glancing back as he crossed the finish line, with the defending champion, Maurice Greene, in the background.

All of Europe had been watching this race. But at this moment, commentators on European TV stations seemed to be at a loss for words.

They had been calling out the names of Gatlin and Obikwelu, focusing more on the black athletes and intentionally ignoring Zhang Guan, a Chinese competitor, whom they had seen as a mere sideshow, not worth remembering his name. But now, Zhang Guan had secured an unquestionable lead and was about to win the championship, forcing the commentators to pay attention to him.

"That Chinese man is leading! How is this possible? An Asian running faster than black athletes—if I hadn't seen it with my own eyes, I would think it was a fairy tale! Gatlin, Greene, Crawford, Obikwelu, Powell... what happened to you all? Did you collectively get food poisoning? How could you be trailing a Chinese man by such a margin? Such a gap is impossible to close!" The European commentator fell silent, staring at the screen in disbelief.

"Zhang Guan is leading! Zhang Guan is in first place! Come on! Hold on! He crossed the line! He won! Zhang Guan won! Zhang Guan won! It's a miracle! Zhang Guan has created a miracle! He has won the men's 100-meter Olympic gold!" The commentator shouted, his voice hoarse with excitement.

In the national team coaching group, a loud cheer erupted. Whether it was Coach Yu or Director Ma, their minds went blank. Their thoughts had stopped; they cried, ran, and jumped, embracing each other in a display of pure instinct, as they were at a loss for what else to do.

In the stands, Director Hou stood up. He did not shout or celebrate, but he felt every cell in his body cheering. He trembled uncontrollably with excitement.

In the Olympic Village, the deafening roar from the athletes' entertainment room shook the entire building, like a suddenly erupting volcano that made the ground tremble.

Back home, Mr. Chen let out a long breath, then hugged his wife and began to cry.

"We won! We won! We finally won!"

His lifelong dream had come true at that moment!

The dream of several generations had finally been realized!

In the Olympic Village, the Jamaican team members watching the race were crestfallen. Powell had not created a miracle after all, and many began to leave for their dormitories.

But young Usain Bolt stood there, unmoving.

"That Chinese man, his name is Zhang Guan. Yes, Zhang Guan! He defeated Powell, Greene, Gatlin, and so many other strong competitors to win the championship! It's a miracle!"

"Zhang Guan is my age! If he can achieve these things, then I can too! I, Usain Bolt, am better than anyone else!" Bolt stood up, his eyes filled with determination.

"Zhang Guan, from today on, you are my target. I will strive to catch up with you, and one day, I will compete with you! I will surpass you!"

In front of the television, Stephen Curry suddenly stood up and walked out.

"Stephen, where are you going?" Seth Curry asked.

"To practice." Stephen Curry looked at his brother, then pointed at Zhang Guan on the TV and said, "From today on, that Chinese man is my idol!"

"Wasn't your idol Jason Williams, the White Chocolate?"

"Not anymore! I've found a new idol," Stephen Curry said resolutely.

"Why?" Seth Curry asked, puzzled.

"Because this Chinese man created a miracle! A Chinese man winning the Olympic men's 100 meters is a miracle. He has shown me what's possible." Stephen Curry pointed to himself and continued, "Seth, even if the whole world says I'm not suited for basketball, I won't give up. I will become the best basketball player in the world. I will make it to the NBA, win MVP, get a championship, and surpass the Bulls' 72-win season! Trust me, I will create miracles too!"