Ignoring the roars from across the way, Wilder continued his push-ups. A pathetic old has-been wasn't going to rattle him.
Days passed, and Wilder steadily increased the intensity of his training.
He progressed from standard push-ups and pull-ups to one-handed handstand push-ups, increasing not only the quantity but also the quality.
The reason he could maintain this high-intensity training while constantly battling the debilitating effects of the Seastone was his sheer willpower.
It's not that willpower could break all the rules. Wilder had a theory: his body, possessing an extra portion of soul, might be the key. This powerful soul not only granted him strong willpower but also seemed to bring about a qualitative change.
He could harness this willpower to squeeze out a small amount of strength for training. However, this strength was merely an aid; the moment he stopped, the moment his willpower slackened, that power would instantly dissipate like a punctured balloon.
Even so, this was a unique advantage.
It was because of this that Wilder could maintain his high-intensity training regimen, his body growing stronger and his strength increasing rapidly.
Ten days passed in a flash. Wilder could now do over 1,300 one-handed handstand push-ups. However, he also felt the limitations of this training method: it was too monotonous, and the gains were far less than when he'd started.
"This won't do. I need to get rid of these cuffs as soon as possible." Wilder stopped his workout. His muscles, taut with exertion, slowly relaxed with his breathing. He sat cross-legged on the floor, deep in thought.
But no matter how much he considered, Wilder found that his only option was to target the guards.
Targeting the guards, however, was no easy feat. Add to that the surveillance of the video Den Den Mushi, and one wrong move could easily lead to an early execution.
"I'll wait a bit longer." Wilder glanced at the darkness outside his cell and closed his eyes, recovering his strength.
The daily, repetitive training was incredibly dull. Wilder persisted with the monotonous exercises, never forgetting to plan his escape.
His perseverance finally paid off. He saw an opportunity.
In the darkness, the corners of Wilder's mouth suddenly curled upward. His gaze fixed on the corridor outside his cell.
Two guards pushing a food cart appeared from the end of the hall. Unlike usual, these two seemed to have been drinking. They staggered as they walked, toothpicks dangling from their mouths, which they were unwilling to discard.
Wilder moved to the bars of his cell, watching as the guards grumbled their way through the food deliveries. His smile grew increasingly unrestrained.
The strong smell of alcohol wafted from a distance, indicating just how much the two guards had drunk.
"Even the most secure places are bound to have a few individuals riddled with flaws," Wilder murmured.
Soon, the two guards arrived in front of him.
Wilder pressed his body close to the bars, facing the two. He watched as one guard bent down to retrieve a food tray, while the other, barely able to stand, pretended to be on alert.
Wilder tensed his muscles, gathering his strength.
Now!
Wilder's eyes, fixed on the guard retrieving the food tray, suddenly shifted to the guard pretending to be alert. His right foot shot out, passing through the gap between the bars, striking the guard's ankle squarely.
Clang!
The guard lost his balance, instantly crashing into the iron bars and collapsing to the ground. The impact to his head knocked him out cold.
Wilder didn't hesitate. He retracted his foot, and before the other guard could realize what was happening, used the same method to send him crashing headfirst into the bars, knocking him unconscious as well.
"Woo-woo!"
The alarm instantly blared through the corridor. Wilder knew time was of the essence. He couldn't delay. His gaze fell on the guard on his right – more specifically, on the large bunch of keys hanging from his waist.
But before that...
Wilder glanced at the cell across from him.
He reached out and dragged the guard on the right closer. After removing the keys, Wilder began trying them one by one on his cuffs.
"No..."
"This one's not right either..."
Sweat dripped from his forehead. Time ticked away, second by second. Wilder didn't know how long it would be before the other guards arrived, but he knew it wouldn't be more than half a minute.
"Hurry! Hurry! Something's happening in the Beast Hell!"
"We're on our way!"
Messages were being relayed from the monitoring room, as numerous guards began rushing towards Wilder's cell.
"Not enough time!" Wilder heard the rapid footsteps approaching from the end of the corridor and increased his speed.
One key after another was rejected by the cuffs. In the blink of an eye, only one key remained. Wilder's eyes glinted, and he inserted the key into the lock.
Click!
"Stop right there!"
The instant the lock's core turned successfully, the roar of the guards reached his ears.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Wilder looked up. The area outside his cell was already swarming with guards. More than ten gun barrels were pointed directly at him. He had no doubt that if he made any sudden movements, his body would be riddled with holes.
After all, he was still wearing the cuffs. Although the key was the right one, he hadn't fully unlocked them.
"You're fast, officers." Wilder raised his cuffed hands high above his head, a helpless smile on his face as he faced the dozens of guards.
"Yeah... if we weren't quick enough, you might have actually succeeded, you damned bastard!" With that, the lead guard pulled the trigger!
Bang!
Wilder's body jerked violently. Blood splattered from his shoulder, where a bullet hole now appeared, oozing crimson.
"Ugh..." Wilder's face contorted in pain, but he quickly lifted his pale face, forcing a strained smile at the lead guard. "That hurts...! ...Officer."
"You..." The lead guard's face was practically twisted in rage, but he didn't fire again. He opened the cell, and a group of guards swarmed in, pinning Wilder to the ground.
"You dared to attack the guards! You're dead meat, you bastard!" After removing the key from Wilder's cuffs, the lead guard glared down at him.
Wilder lay on the ground, completely drained of strength. Hearing the guard's words, he said faintly, "I didn't attack the guards, officer. They fell down on their own. I think they were drunk and couldn't stand properly. That's why I thought I had a chance to escape! Of course, I failed in the end. If you don't believe me, officer, you can smell the alcohol on them."
"Officer! He's lying! I saw it! That kid attacked the two guards!" However, at that moment, the prisoner in the opposite cell spoke up.
Wilder's eyes narrowed instantly. A dangerous glint flashed within them. He looked back at the lead guard, whose expression had become utterly furious.
Wilder feigned helplessness, looking at the lead guard and saying, "If I told you he's saying this because he has a grudge against me and is deliberately framing me, would you believe me?"
"Drop dead, you bastard!" But the enraged guard didn't give him a chance to explain. A massive fist slammed into Wilder's face.
Blood splattered. Wilder's head buzzed. But before he could recover,
It was as though the other guards had received a signal. They all began to brutally attack the prone Wilder.
Hit me... hit me... the harder, the better...
Wilder's heart relaxed. He'd gotten the opportunity he needed.
As for the guy across the way... soon.
As he thought this, another heavy fist landed on Wilder's face, and this time, he lost consciousness.