Ma Angxing could not understand that bizarre ball Wang Chao had sliced with short pips.
But he did not want to handle it crudely.
Because Coach Wang Lu's words were a boundary he could not cross.
Any simple, rough response would be a desecration of Coach Wang Lu.
So until the very last moment, he had tried to judge the ball's exact nature and chop it back according to his own understanding.
He had judged wrong.
The ball popped up high.
The facts proved that short pips were still short pips.
Even though Wang Chao had sliced the ball perfectly, with every movement and every bit of force fully conforming to the principles of a sidespin chop, the ball simply did not spin.
The moment the ball popped up, Lu Jia's eyes lit up again, and he viciously unleashed a forehand smash.
Zhao Li'an managed to block Lu Jia's smash this time, but when the ball came back, Wang Chao followed with a quick short-pips flick that still ended the rally.
Having fallen behind 0:2, Spade Q scored four straight points and opened up a 4:2 lead.
A low buzzing rose from the stands, with signs of growing louder.
Poseidon's fans were, comparatively speaking, a group with very discerning eyes. For six years, they had watched Zhu Ding play every day. No matter how terrible the local sports channel commentators were, after calling so many matches, there were always some games where they got to the point. From those broadcasts, the fans had learned quite a bit of high-level knowledge.
So after Wang Chao switched hands and used short pips three times in a row, at least half the audience understood what they were seeing.
They might not have understood the exact difference between Wang Chao switching hands and switching