From Trash to Treasure: The Sinclair Family's Beloved Genius

The speaker was the tallest man in the formation. He had a fair, handsome face and a deep gaze. He stood a full half-head taller than his teammates, who averaged around six feet tall.

This made him quite conspicuous when he spoke.

The moment he finished speaking, Coach Young shot him a cold glare.

"As if an extra ten minutes of training would win you the Winter Games championship."

The man was not at all pleased to be reprimanded by the coach.

But he didn’t dare to talk back. He could only roll his eyes and say sarcastically, "Heh. As if some little girl who hasn’t even reached a professional level has anything to teach us."

He hadn’t planned on participating, but Coach Young saw that the ones who had signed up were all preparing for next year’s Olympics. So, he made it mandatory for everyone to train under Chloe Sinclair for the next two days.

"Julian Dawson, if you say that to her face later, just wait and see how I’m going to drill you for the next few days!"

The man was far more afraid of the coach than he was of Chloe Sinclair.

After Coach Young’s threat, he wanted to argue, but he just opened and closed his mouth. Seeing the coach’s expression—as if he were about to be torn to shreds—Julian Dawson clamped his mouth shut.

But as the team’s ace, he was still indignant. "I don’t believe it. There’s no way Chloe Sinclair can outrun me!"

The words had barely left his mouth when he was met with Coach Young’s death glare.

He instantly fell silent.

At eight o’clock sharp, Chloe Sinclair and Shawn Styles arrived at the provincial sports team facility, right on the dot.

Chloe Sinclair looked slightly apologetic. "Sorry we’re late."

Coach Young wasn’t bothered in the slightest. He waved his hand, his face wreathed in a smile. "Not at all, not at all! It’s eight o’clock on the dot. You’re not late."

’They’d be willing to wait even if she arrived at eight-thirty or ten-thirty, let alone eight.’

Coach Young’s words made Chloe Sinclair feel even more embarrassed.

"Let’s get started now."

Chloe Sinclair glanced at the group of athletes.

’There are more people here than were on the list. They must have been added later.’

Chloe Sinclair noticed a few unfamiliar faces but didn’t think much of it.

She turned her head. "Coach Young, I see some new faces. Could I trouble you to send me their files later today?"

Professor Young was inwardly ecstatic when Chloe Sinclair said this.

’That statement spoke volumes.’

’A week ago, he had given her a list of all the participants. Not only had she reviewed it, but she had apparently memorized everyone’s name and face.’

’This was more than enough to prove that Chloe Sinclair was taking this job seriously.’

Thus, Professor Young nodded eagerly. "Of course, of course. I’ll have Shawn Styles get it ready immediately."

Shawn Styles, standing to the side, frowned and refused.

Before Professor Young could say anything, Shawn Styles cut in, "I’m participating in the training too."

Chloe Sinclair said, "It’s fine. You can give them to me during a break. I can review them all today."

With that, Chloe Sinclair dropped the subject.

She turned to the athletes, her voice firm and clear. "Alright, everyone. I want you to start by running twenty laps around the track at your fastest pace."

One lap was 800 meters, meaning twenty laps was a total of sixteen kilometers.

They were used to high-intensity training, but running a full sixteen kilometers right off the bat was usually reserved for the final days of a training camp.

Some of the athletes who had been forced to participate were visibly unhappy, but they were silenced by death glares from both Coach Young and Shawn Styles.

Chloe Sinclair’s sharp eyes caught their reactions, and she raised an eyebrow slightly.

’Oho, looks like I’ll have to put on a little show to scare them straight.’

With that thought, Chloe Sinclair casually stepped off the track. She sat down on the ground, raised a hand, and said nonchalantly, "Alright, everyone. You may begin."