Hit Too Hard

Wang Chao stood before the table with a half-smile, watching the brat's defenses crumble in an instant. "Oh? Not bad. Overlord Twist?"

"Peh, peh, peh! Don't talk nonsense."

Jiang Shan flew into a rage. "How the hell does this count as an Overlord Twist?"

As soon as he said it, he felt his face grow slightly hot.

In truth, he had invested enormous effort into this move, aiming precisely for the ultimate goal of mastering the "Overlord Twist."

And during team matches, this move had indeed scored for him again and again. Many of his teammates even felt that the power behind his twist had already earned it the name Overlord Twist.

Yet the first time he used it today, it had been a sneak attack, and it was still broken so easily.

Even if an edge ball involved some luck, Jiang Shan was far too proud to admit that it had been an Overlord Twist.

The match suddenly became bizarre.

Jiang Shan, who had been brimming with confidence, began getting thoroughly schooled by Wang Chao.

He kept suffering losses of every kind and falling for every sort of trap.

Sometimes, he predicted that Wang Chao would serve backspin, only for Wang Chao to sneak in a long ball.

Sometimes, he thought the ball definitely had no spin, only for it to spin so violently that he dumped it straight into the net and lost the point.

Sometimes, he thought Wang Chao definitely would not dare attack this ball, yet Wang Chao did exactly that—and succeeded.

Sometimes, he thought Wang Chao would definitely smash hard, so he quickly retreated, only for Wang Chao's return not to go long...

There was even one ball where Wang Chao had already fallen into a passive position. Yet he made a feint on the other side of the table, stirring something in Jiang Shan's mind and making him change tactics at the last second. Wang Chao had read him completely, moved there in advance to wait, and launched a beautiful counterattack.

"My mentality's collapsed again!"

Jiang Shan howled, casually tossing his custom paddle, worth several thousand yuan, onto the table. "I'm done!"

This was already the sixth point of the third game. The first two games had been 11:1 and 11:3, while the current score was 6:0.

A total rout!

It was too painful to watch!

"Come on, don't give up. Best of seven, first to four—you still have a chance to come back from 0:3," Wang Chao said with a smile, feeling utterly delighted inside.

Brat, weren't you acting all cocky just now?

Didn't you say amateurs couldn't beat professionals?

Didn't you say penhold players couldn't beat shakehand players?

Didn't you say someone without even a paddle had no right to play against you?

Feeling good now?

Jiang Shan's eyes had gone red from losing. He resentfully picked up his paddle and glared at Wang Chao.

"Can't you stop playing tricks? Can't you be a little more sincere?"

"This isn't an official match. It's an internal sparring session. Can't we just play straightforwardly? Why do you have to pull all these fancy stunts?"

Wang Chao nodded with a smile. "No problem. I guarantee all my serves from here on will be standard serves."

It was his turn to serve. Sure enough, he served a standard backspin ball, landing it somewhere on the other side of the table.

Jiang Shan secretly rejoiced. Amateurs really are thin-skinned. I called him out once, and he actually gave up his advantage.

Jiang Shan had decided that this time, he would attack directly. But when the ball came over, it felt especially awkward. His forehand flick felt wrong, and his backhand twist felt wrong too. In his haste, he had no time to think further and could only ease it back. Wang Chao immediately sprang into action and killed the point with three consecutive shots.

"Just a coincidence..." Jiang Shan quietly encouraged himself.

Wang Chao continued serving. Another standard backspin ball. Jiang Shan again wanted to attack, but when the ball came over, it still felt awkward. He still could not make a move and could only ease it back again, only to be smashed dead by Wang Chao once more.

Jiang Shan began to feel a faint sense of fear. Sweat slowly seeped through the hair on his forehead.

It was actually his turn to serve next, but because of that faint fear, he tossed the ball back over. "You serve."

Wang Chao did not stand on ceremony. He sent over another standard backspin serve. Jiang Shan still could not make a move and could only keep easing the ball back, only for Wang Chao to keep launching attacks.

9:0.

"You serve again." Jiang Shan gritted his teeth and tossed the ball over once more.

Sure enough, the score became 10:0.

Jiang Shan completely lost the will to play.

He was smart, so he understood.

Those last four serves had all appeared to land in different places, but in truth, they had followed the same pattern.

They had all landed in the subtle spots where Jiang Shan was unable to make a move.

In other words, Wang Chao had found Jiang Shan's "flaw."

This "flaw" was fluid. It constantly shifted with Jiang Shan's position and posture in front of the table, yet no matter how it changed, Wang Chao could accurately find that point and place the ball right on it.

Such precise placement naturally represented precise technique, but what truly frightened Jiang Shan was Wang Chao's ability to observe his opponent and read the match.

There were no perfect table tennis players in this world. No player could theoretically control the entire table. There would always be flaws—some more numerous, some fewer; some large, some small; some impossible to hide, others fleeting in an instant.

To find them, one first had to identify the technical gaps in one's opponent's game.

But every professional player had their own unique tactical and technical system. That system would have been forged over long years of practice, patching weaknesses, discarding the dross, retaining the essence, and being tempered a hundred times over, built bit by bit. Even if they had weaknesses, they would certainly try their best to conceal them. How could they be found so easily?

Yet Wang Chao had found one.

He had used only two and a half games to find Jiang Shan's "flaw."

That was terrifying!

Jiang Shan even felt as though he had been stripped naked.

"Serve one more for me to see." Jiang Shan heard that his own voice was trembling. He wanted one final confirmation. If it was still like this, he would absolutely refuse to play the fourth game.

Wang Chao took the ball and casually served one, committing a suicide serve...

Jiang Shan: "..."

"International convention. You don't bagel someone." Wang Chao smiled as he tossed the ball to Jiang Shan. "Your serve now."

Jiang Shan was utterly baffled.

It was 10:1. His opponent held nine game points, was cunning and devious, and was very likely hiding his true strength. Should he still fight for the dignity of a professional player?

He stood there holding the ball for a long while. Then he suddenly hurled it away with all his strength. The little ball flew high over the barrier at the side of the table and out onto the busy street beyond. A faint cry of "Ow!" could be heard outside. It had probably hit someone on the head.

"I'm not playing anymore!" Jiang Shan had figured it out. "Unless you become my teammate, I'm never coming to play table tennis with a freak like you again!"

Wang Chao was in a good mood all afternoon.

On one hand, he had won today's match and further confirmed his own strength.

On the other hand, his fairly decent boss had voluntarily abandoned the idea of investing in a milk tea shop, because that famous milk tea chain had been exposed for a pile of shady practices and its reputation had collapsed.

That suicide serve at the end of his noon match had actually been deliberate.

Jiang Shan was too young, and his technique had not yet taken shape. As his body developed, his skills would improve enormously.

At a time like this, Jiang Shan needed the fearless spirit of a newborn calf unafraid of tigers. He could accept setbacks, but he could not be left with psychological trauma.

In fact, Wang Chao had learned in his previous life, while coaching the national team, that the strongest players on the team rarely practiced together for extended periods. Even when players wanted to arrange private matches, the coaching staff would try their best to stop them.

This was what was known as Kings do not meet kings.

Because if they played too often, they would inevitably find each other's flaws. Even unstable win-loss patterns would gradually settle into stable ones. In the end, one player would always lose while the other would always win, and the one who kept losing might never again believe they could win.

That showed just how important confidence was.

So at that final moment, Wang Chao suddenly realized that he had hit too hard...

The tricks at the beginning did not matter; they would only make the brat furious. But those final four serves had gone beyond the syllabus.