Piecing together the scattered descriptions from the surrounding crowd and Kevin's supplementary remarks, Shane quickly figured out the whole story.
He stood by the bar and turned his head to glance at the construction worker who was red-faced, thick-necked, and staring right at him.
Actually, Jack was also a bit surprised that Shane had appeared so coincidentally. He had originally just planned to talk some trash, slap Kevin in the face, have a couple of drinks, and leave.
He didn't expect the main character to show up directly.
So, from the moment Shane walked in, he started sizing up Shane's physique.
In Jack's perspective, although he could tell through Shane's clothes that he wasn't skinny, he definitely couldn't compare to his own heavyweight bulk.
Visually, Shane was a whole size smaller than him. In his concept, "bigger is stronger, bigger is better," so he genuinely felt from the bottom of his heart that Shane was weaker than him.
But before Jack could think of how to throw a few insults, Shane spoke up first.
"What do you want to compete in?" Shane wouldn't be a turtle shrinking its head. If he chickened out this time, who knows what his reputation would become once word got out.
"Arm wrestling!" Jack shouted directly. To build momentum, he pushed his sleeves up to his shoulders in one go, revealing his thick arms with knotted muscles.
"This is the most fcking real thing. No tricks. Right now. Do you dare?"
Jack's little abacus was clicking loudly. If it were about technique or fancy tricks, he reckoned he wouldn't make it. But arm strength and wrist strength were his bread and butter, so he went straight for his biggest advantage.
"Wait, Shane," Kevin grabbed Shane's arm, his face scrunching up.
"You absolutely cannot agree. These guys work construction. Arm wrestling relies on brute strength, and they have the advantage. Challenge him to push-ups, running, play him to death. Arm wrestling really isn't worth it."
V put her hands on her hips and cursed directly at Jack.
"Ha, you just said how tough you were, but in the end, you only picked what you're best at? Is your brain entirely made for taking advantage? If he wins, you'll say he used tricks. If he loses, you'll say gym coaches are just like that and brag about it until the next century, right? Wimp."
Shamed into anger by V's words, Jack's petty cleverness turned into boorishness.
"What? Scared? Afraid that pretty muscle of yours is a balloon blown up by protein powder that pops with one poke? Don't even dare to extend your hand? If that's not being a sissy, what is? Or does your gym only train your lips?!"
The patrons around them, who never minded watching a spectacle—especially those construction workers who were friendly with Jack—started to jeer:
"Arm wrestling! Fair!"
"Shane, don't be scared, take it!"
"What he says makes sense. Real men prove themselves with their hands."
Fiona stood next to Shane and tugged at the corner of his shirt.
"Forget it, Shane. No need to argue with someone brainless like this." Fiona purely felt this was a battle of egos with no benefit.
Shane gave Fiona a reassuring look, then stared straight at Jack.
"Just arm wrestling? What's the point? Add another one!" He pointed to the largest beer steins inside Kevin's bar.
"Add an event: holding beer steins. Hold a stein full of beer straight out. Whoever drops it or spills it first loses."
He looked at Jack's changing expression and mocked him.
"Don't tell me you don't even dare to take this? If you don't even dare to accept something this simple, don't brag about how awesome and tough you are. Roll back to the construction site and drink a few more mouthfuls of water to boost your guts."
Jack's already red face turned even redder.
Holding beer steins sounded like a test of stability and endurance, but in the end, it was still a contest of arm strength. He had been around for a long time and occasionally played this game out of spite. He had absolute confidence in his arm strength, and even felt that Shane proposing this competition was just paving the way for him.
"Fine, I dare. If you have the balls, come on."
"Good!" A louder cheer erupted from the surroundings instantly. The atmosphere was now ignited.
Without needing anyone to direct them, the patrons started clearing an area in front of the bar. They moved away the stools that were in the way and cleared two sturdy tables—
One for arm wrestling, one for the beer steins.
Kevin and V also walked out of the bar and huddled next to Shane, looking worried.
"Shane, can you really do this? That bastard looks strong..."
V also said: "Are you sure you want to do both together? Can your stamina hold up? Don't win the arm wrestling but lose the beer holding later."
"Just watch." Shane was very confident in his physical fitness and strength.
At this moment, Shane gave Fiona another look. Fiona's gaze met his, and she understood immediately.
She turned decisively, dragged a square table from the corner of the bar, slammed it down next to the open space, then fished out $20 from her pocket and slapped it on the table.
"Open for betting! Open for betting! Those who believe Shane will win, bet here. Those who think Jack can do it, bet there. What's the fun in watching without betting?"
"Whoa—"
Now, the bar became even more boisterous. The cheers and whistles almost lifted the roof.
Having a competition to watch, plus an impromptu betting pool, was much more exciting than just watching dryly.
Under everyone's gaze, Shane walked to the betting table without hesitation and placed $40 next to Fiona's bill.
"I bet on myself."
After betting, he walked up to Jack and asked.
"What about the stakes? Talk is cheap. One win and one loss makes us even, but what if you lose both rounds?"
Jack panted heavily, "Me lose? I can't possibly lose a single round!"
"Anyone can talk. I could say I fought Tyson with zero losses." Shane was unhurried.
"How about this: if you lose both rounds, first, you say in front of everyone, 'I, Jack, am a sissy'; second, buy a round of beer for everyone here."
"If I lose, I'll admit I'm a gym pretty boy, and," he pointed to an empty beer glass, "I'll pay for your drinks today. How about it? Fair?"
The surrounding patrons started jeering immediately.
"Agree to it, Jack!"
"Don't lose face, what are you afraid of!"
Amidst the surrounding shouts, Jack's head heated up. "Fine, it's settled. Whoever dares to welch on the bet then has no balls!"
"Good."
Shane said no more and walked straight to the other side of the table, waiting for the people over there to finish placing their bets.
Jack rubbed his hands vigorously and stood on the other side.
On the betting side, Kevin and V each took $10 and placed it on Shane's side.
Bills flew in like fallen leaves, but most piled up on Jack's side. Not many bet on Shane.
Because the physical difference between the two looked too great, no one thought Shane would win.
But Tommy and Kermit, the bar duo, exchanged a look. Taking advantage of the chaos, they stuffed money under Shane's thin stack of bills and gave each other a "you know, I know" look.
Although they also felt Shane was unlikely to win, Tommy had seen through the crack in the door that day Shane lifting weights that looked like they could snap his forearm.
He thought to himself, what if Shane wins?
Anyway, losing meant losing $10, but if he won... he looked at the money piled on Jack's side, there had to be at least $150... if he won, he'd make a killing.
Before long, betting was finished.
On the other table, two beer steins filled to the brim had long been prepared.
Everyone gathered around.
Shane and Jack's hands clasped together.
Kevin stood behind Shane, so nervous his palms were sweating. He kept mumbling softly, "Don't get broken, don't get broken, don't get broken."
V asked one more time, "Final confirmation, can you really do this?"
"Don't worry, guaranteed win."
At this moment, someone in the crowd started counting down:
"Three, two, one."
"—Start!"