Geng Shuai unleashed another vicious pull with all his strength. He put so much force into it that his body went off balance, lunging forward and nearly face-planting onto the table.
But he failed to land the shot. His low-tack rubber could not lift the heavily spinning ball, and it went into the net. 2:2.
Yet Niu Linjun, who had won the point, felt no joy at all. It was as if he had swallowed a fly.
Although they had played only four points so far, he had already sensed an utterly unfamiliar feeling of frustration.
He had become the passive one, forced to endure, while Geng Shuai had become the one proactively going crazy. Whether points were won or lost no longer depended on how well Niu Linjun chopped the ball, but entirely on the success rate of Geng Shuai's high-difficulty, all-out attacks.
Geng Shuai wanted every shot to decide life or death. He absolutely refused to exchange even one extra rally with him.
What the hell was this?
By this point, Fang Yuan understood completely. She turned and asked Sun Yuanqiang, "Who do you think will win this game?"
She asked Sun Yuanqiang rather than Li Huashan because Jingyuewan Club's second singles player was also a chopper.
"Too hard to tell." Sun Yuanqiang shook his head repeatedly. "Everything Geng Shuai is playing is an unreasonable gamble. So far, he has attacked four times, won two and lost two—exactly a fifty-percent success rate. As for whether his hand will get hotter or colder afterward, no one knows... What I don't understand is that he already struggles to maintain his form, yet he is playing so desperately, as if he has no regard for conserving stamina. At this rate, won't he run out of power before even finishing a game?"