But in the second game that followed, Pike's play became even more aggressive, faintly carrying the air of an all-out gamble.
Wang Chao remained steady, attacking when he needed to attack, controlling when he needed to control, and defending when he needed to defend. But on his own serve, Pike twice launched direct backhand attacks, ripping out an extremely difficult flick from over the table and an extremely difficult forehand loop from away from the table, forcibly snatching two points.
It was precisely those two points that caused Wang Chao to lose the second game 9:11.
The third game was just as fierce. Pike gambled even more viciously. He was in excellent form today, and luck was on his side as well. Not only was his success rate on desperate attacks high, but he also got one edge ball and one net ball, both direct scores. The gap in the third game even widened, and Pike took it 11:6.
By this point, the atmosphere had reached a fever pitch. The European fans who had come prepared for a bitter defeat rekindled their hopes and began cheering and shouting again.
Other than the relatively quiet local Hong Kong fans, the few fans from various European countries in the stands were almost all cheering. At that moment, there was no distinction of nationality among them, only Europe and Asia.
The fiery red hair atop Pike's head was completely soaked with sweat, yet every strand still stood upright with vigor. The volcano seemed to have caught fire. Sweat ran down from the tips of his hair, and under the bright lights, it looked like streams of flowing lava, making his burning passion and soaring fighting spirit all the more striking.
Twenty-three-year-old Pike had been brutally beaten by Sun Tianlong in both matches after