Chapter 716: Arm Wrestling

All the Water Celery gathered over the past two-plus months was piled in the storage area. The total weight was even more than Evelyn Ford had anticipated. It was a good haul; the trip had definitely been worth it.

Inside her space, the plot of black soil rented out to Leo Denton and his team was ready for its third wheat harvest. Once they returned to the space tomorrow, they could get to work, plant another crop, and their mission would be complete.

Back at the camp, Leo Denton and a few others were dressing the game they had brought back from the mountain, while Flynn Hansen and his team were boiling water and cooking a meal. Having spent over two months together, everyone had become familiar with one another. With the mission now complete, they would soon be returning to the base, and it was unlikely they would all be together like this again. Quincy had completely integrated himself into the group. Everyone he met called him Mr. Quincy, and all the praise was starting to go to his head.

Evelyn Ford sat in front of her tent, lost in thought. The sun was warm, and the breeze felt pleasant on her face. Ronan Kendrick handed her a freshly grilled meat skewer. Evelyn took a bite right from his hand. ’It’s delicious,’ she thought, ’but not spicy enough. It could use some more chili powder and cumin powder.’

Flynn Hansen brought a plate of fruit over and placed it on the table in front of Evelyn Ford. She thanked him, picked up a piece of fruit, and took a bite.

’It’s very sweet,’ she thought. ’I don’t know what kind of fruit it is. It resembles a goumi berry, but this one is yellow and has exceptionally thin skin.’

"Evelyn, are we setting off tomorrow morning?"

"Yes. We’ll set off at eight in the morning."

"Are Captain Denton and Mr. Quincy’s group coming with us too?"

Evelyn Ford shook her head. "They have other missions. They won’t be traveling with us."

Flynn Hansen frowned. "Do they need any help?"

"I don’t think so. They’ll handle it."

"The weather’s been great these last few days. I estimate we’ll be back at the base in five days, tops."

The two of them chatted idly. Just then, Quincy and his group came over carrying skewers of meat. As soon as they sat down, they started an arm-wrestling competition—whoever lost had to perform for everyone.

Evelyn Ford enthusiastically acted as their referee. Peter Owens even went and got a piece of charcoal; whoever lost would have a turtle drawn on their face.

Quincy and Miles Vaughn went first. Quincy made a big show of talking trash, but he lost the first round, not even lasting ten seconds.

"You’re pathetic! You’ve got nothing," Miles Vaughn roared with laughter. He hadn’t expected to win so easily. He picked up a piece of charcoal, drew a turtle on Quincy’s forehead, and then made him go to the front and sing for everyone.

The best thing about Quincy was his good nature and how he never took things to heart. Though he lost, he didn’t get angry or embarrassed. Instead, he excitedly ran to the front, singing and dancing, successfully disgusting everyone to the point of nausea.

"Miles, you may look like the winner, but you actually lost," Ethan Dawson said, rubbing his eyes. The sight was so cringeworthy it dealt him over 10,000 points of damage. ’That was terrifying. Watching Quincy sing and dance is a form of torture.’

Miles Vaughn nodded. "I lost, totally and utterly. I had no idea he could be that cringey."

Now it was Quincy’s turn to roar with laughter. "Who’s next? Come on, bring it on!"

Everyone looked horrified at the suggestion. Suddenly, Evelyn Ford raised her hand. "I’ll take you on."

Quincy raised an eyebrow. "Evelyn, I’m a man, you know. Arm-wrestling you seems a little unfair to you."

Evelyn Ford beckoned to him. "Get over here and stop talking nonsense. If you lose, you can’t make those smarmy faces anymore, or I won’t be able to stop myself from decking you."

"And if I win?"

"Name your price."

Quincy snickered. "Deal. If I win, for the next three days, Miles Vaughn, Ethan Dawson, Peter Owens, and the rest of you aren’t allowed to speak. You can only communicate by barking."

Everyone was speechless.

What a twisted condition.

Everyone was a little worried about whether Evelyn could win. After all, not being able to talk would be torture, and barking would be utterly humiliating.

"Scared? Let me tell you, I just wasn’t ready before. Check out these biceps. I didn’t build these for nothing."

Evelyn Ford chuckled. "Enough nonsense. Let’s go. Winner takes all in one round."

Ronan Kendrick was standing behind Evelyn Ford. Quincy stared at him for a second, then waved his hand, motioning for Ronan to get out of the way.

"Don’t stand in my line of sight. You’re too intimidating."

"He’s not going to hit you. What are you so afraid of?" Evelyn rolled up her sleeves and placed her right hand on the table.

Quincy pursed his lips. "His glare alone could kill me. If I win, I’m pretty sure he’ll silence me permanently."

The two clasped hands. This time, Ethan Dawson acted as referee. The moment he yelled, "Begin!" everyone started cheering for Evelyn Ford.

At first, Evelyn didn’t use much force. She controlled her strength, preventing Quincy from pinning her down, but not pushing him down either.

After ten seconds, Quincy’s brow twitched. He knew perfectly well that Evelyn was incredibly strong. This match was just a bit of fun. Evelyn was giving him a chance to save face, and he was playing along, letting everyone enjoy the show. After all, they were leaving Demon’s Ridge to head back to the base tomorrow.

A minute passed, and both of them were still holding steady.

"Are you two even trying?" Miles Vaughn leaned in to check, only to see that their fingers were turning red. Veins were bulging on Quincy’s neck, and beads of sweat had appeared on Evelyn’s forehead.

Two minutes later, Evelyn had a clear advantage. She was pushing Quincy’s hand down, and it began to inch toward the tabletop as everyone started to cheer and clap.

"Quincy, you’re going to lose!"

Quincy gritted his teeth. "Impossible! Absolutely impossible! I’m a man with biceps!"

"You built those biceps for nothing." The words had barely left the speaker’s mouth when, with a SLAM, Evelyn pinned Quincy’s hand to the tabletop.

"Ow! My fingers are broken! Evelyn, you barbarian!" Quincy stood up and shook his hand. His fingers were already bruised, showing just how much force Evelyn had used.

"I graciously accept your defeat, Quincy. Starting now, no more talking. And no more of those eye-searing performances."

"Hey, wait a minute! Why can’t I talk? You didn’t mention that part."

"I just added it. You gave me the idea. If you want to talk, you can start barking."

The others burst into applause. "Evelyn, you’re amazing! A true heroine!"

Evelyn was taken aback. ’It was just arm-wrestling.’

"Alright, alright, let’s keep it low-key."

"Mr. Kendrick, I want to arm-wrestle you! No bets, just for fun," Flynn Hansen said, looking at Ronan Kendrick excitedly. Ronan didn’t refuse.

"Fine."

Ethan Dawson and the others looked at Flynn Hansen with pity. Flynn even did a full set of warm-up exercises before sitting down and placing his hand on the table across from Ronan.

Less than a second after "Begin!" was called, Ronan slammed Flynn Hansen’s hand down. The tabletop instantly shattered and, with a sharp CRACK, Flynn’s fingers broke.

"Am I... really that weak?" Flynn Hansen muttered to himself, staring at his limp fingers.

"It’s not that you’re too weak, it’s that Mr. Kendrick is too strong. At least it’s just your fingers that are broken. You’re still alive," Liam Sterling said. His words of comfort were worse than silence—it was like rubbing salt in the wound.

Evelyn coughed and pulled Ronan Kendrick behind her. "Let’s wrap it up for today. It’s getting late, and we have to head back to the base tomorrow. Captain Hansen, how about you let Ronan set those bones for you?"