A stunning woman stood to the side, holding a small dumbbell, dressed in a cropped sports bra that revealed her flat, toned stomach without a trace of fat. The corners of her lips curled up sweetly, “Charlotte King, what are you up to? Don’t bully the newcomer. Little brother, these people are all wolves, don’t take them too seriously. If they give you trouble, just come to your big sister.” As soon as she said this, several women nearby burst into playful laughter and teasing, saying things like, “Did you take a liking to him or what?” Even though the girl was outgoing, her ears turned a little red.

The people here were all familiar with each other, and harmless jokes like this were common. It didn’t necessarily mean they were really siding with Henry Lane.

Morgan Webb shook his head. “Mr. King, this Mr. Lane is about to take on a Category Three project. Are you sure you want to spar with him?”

“Category Three project?” The man’s eyes widened instantly, his expression perfectly capturing utter disbelief.

Seeing the man’s reaction, Henry Lane immediately understood—Violet Lane had definitely sold him out.

The man called Charlotte King spoke with a hint of disdain, his brows arching. “Category Three project? Manager Webb, are you joking? With that build, can he even handle it? He can’t even take double gravity in the gravity room!”

Charlotte King’s words were like a spark, igniting the already charged atmosphere in the gym.

“Category Three project!? Besides those freaks in Gravity Gallery, who else here has that kind of stamina?”

“This kid must be crazy for fame! Tsk tsk, just arrived and already wants to make a name for himself at the fitness club! Ambitious, aren’t we?”

“Those who can take on Category Three projects are few and far between in Sky Wheel. Even someone as well-trained as me wouldn’t dare try. Today’s a rare treat! Let’s see what he’s got!”

Hearing these comments, Henry Lane was even more certain—never mess with women, especially dangerous beauties like Violet Lane!

A burly man who had been resting in the lounge with a towel over his head suddenly stood up. His body was massive, muscles rippling with strength and beauty. He strode over to Henry Lane, looked him up and down from above, and extended his hand. “My name is Nancy Lane. You’re new here and already taking on a Category Three project—looks like you’re pretty confident. Over there is the cable machine, set to the maximum weight. I can pull it ten times. Let’s compete. If you can do five reps, you win. How about it?”

In this kind of setting, the more heated the verbal sparring and real competition, the more it got everyone’s adrenaline pumping. Everyone here came to work out, and after getting to know each other, they enjoyed the excitement and energy. Sometimes, there was a bit of friendly rivalry. The winner enjoyed glory, applause, respect, and the attention of the women. The loser left quietly amid boos.

The challenge in these words was obvious, clearly looking down on Henry Lane. But the challenger had every right to be confident—he was the club’s famous “Mad Bull,” Nancy Lane!

The man who could pull the cable machine at max weight for ten reps!

Despite his burly frame and rough features, in daily life he was actually quite a refined guy—the very image of a “tiger sniffing a rose.” He’d long had a subtle interest in one of the club’s top women, Violet Lane, but preferred to wait and watch others fail before making his move. He planned to find Violet Lane’s weakness and strike at the right moment.

But just now, everyone had seen Violet Lane walking arm-in-arm with Henry Lane in the lobby. When had Violet Lane ever been so close to a man? And to someone Nancy Lane considered such a “weakling”? So he stepped forward, driven by a mix of unwillingness and anger.

He wanted to use his powerful physique to utterly crush this delicate-looking guy, and at the same time, show Violet Lane, who was watching from the yoga room, what real manliness looked like—so she’d realize the man she let get close was nothing but a pretty face!

So his words were full of provocation.

Henry Lane sighed inwardly at the trouble caused by beautiful women. Roses with thorns always attract more bees.

But Henry Lane was clearly not that kind of bee, so under everyone’s expectant gaze, he simply shook his head.

There was a brief pause, then a wave of boos erupted.

“Pfft… boring, the kid doesn’t even dare to compete.”

“Looks like all that talk about Category Three projects was just bluffing. Triple gravity room, ten reps at max weight on the cable machine, three punches at a thousand pounds on the boxing force meter—none of that is easy.”

Even the girl who had spoken up for him earlier laughed, “Even though Nancy Lane has never lost, just competing with him—if you can do five reps, you win! Why not give it a try?”

This girl was clearly interested in Henry Lane, her alluring eyes roaming up and down his body. To spark a woman’s imagination, a man needed more than just looks—he needed strength and confidence.

But clearly, Henry Lane didn’t meet her expectations. He just shrugged. “I really don’t dare.”

And just like that, everyone’s expressions froze in awkwardness.

Even Morgan Webb was stunned for a moment. He hadn’t expected that, faced with such mockery, Henry Lane would remain so calm and unruffled.

Most surprising of all, he actually admitted so meekly that he didn’t dare? Was this guy impotent?

Clearing his throat, Morgan Webb spoke up, “Miss Violet Lane gave me special instructions. She’s watching us right now through the crystal screen. Sir, aren’t you going to give it a try? I’m afraid Miss Violet Lane will be disappointed.”