The Perks of Being a Transmigrator

Half an hour passed quickly.

Liu Yue's question threw Wang Chao off balance, leaving his thoughts in a mess. He sat silently on the bench, lost in thought.

Han Feng and the others assumed he was worrying about the future and tried to comfort him a few times. When Wang Chao still said nothing, they could not be bothered to ask anymore and continued playing among themselves.

Another ten-odd minutes passed before Wang Chao finally snapped out of it and smiled. "My turn, right?"

Liu Yue was getting thoroughly overwhelmed by Han Feng, the strongest of the four. Hearing that, he hurriedly switched out and sat on the bench, panting heavily.

Holding the paddle, Wang Chao instinctively weighed it in his hand. It felt a little light, and the grip was not great.

The public paddles provided by the club were naturally nothing special.

He gripped the handle between his right thumb and index finger, tightened his hold, and swung it twice. It felt awkward, so he could not help switching it to his left hand and swinging twice more. Yet it still felt wrong. Frowning instinctively, he wanted to try holding the handle horizontally.

"Hurry up and serve." Han Feng laughed from across the table. "What are you doing? Pretending to be left-handed? We all know each other inside out. You think I don't know what you're capable of?"

Wang Chao froze, as if waking from a dream. He gave an "oh," switched back to his right hand, bent his knees slightly, leaned forward, spread his legs, shifted half a step left, and stared at Han Feng's paddle. "Serve."

Han Feng clicked his tongue and shook his head. "Chaozi, not bad. You really look like you know what you're doing."

Hou Xiaojian and Liu Yue laughed as well. "That act was pretty convincing. We'll give you a hundred points."

Wang Chao only smiled and said nothing.

He had no way to explain.

The original Wang Chao had been terrible at table tennis. Or rather, all four of them were pretty bad. Amateur players never cared much about form. They stood in the middle of the table with their backs ramrod straight, looking like old men out for a stroll.

They did not know that this posture placed the center of gravity too high and made their lower bodies unstable, which was not conducive to quick movement. Once the opponent served outside their comfort zone, mistakes were inevitable.

Only professional players understood the importance of lowering their center of gravity, and how to truly "watch the ball."

Besides, with a penhold forehand grip, he should be positioned slightly to the left instead of standing in the middle. After all, the backhand had always been the weakness of penhold players.

He was now essentially a professional player reborn in another body. Though he had not played for more than ten years, he still instinctively assumed a highly professional stance.

Han Feng grinned as he tossed the ball. Then his paddle rapidly brushed the lower edge of the small silver ball, making thin contact. The ball spun wildly in an instant from the friction, floating slightly through the air as it flew flat over the net.

For amateur players, this was already an excellent serve. It had spin and did not pop up high.

In fact, Han Feng was the strongest among the four largely because of this serve. It often made the other three send their returns straight into the net.

Half the credit for the powerful spin on this ball came from his technique, while the other half came from his paddle.

These days, table tennis was gradually becoming an expensive sport. Paddles were becoming more advanced and more costly, and all kinds of specialized brands were emerging one after another. A good blade and rubber alone could cost several thousand yuan. As for custom paddles made for the country's top professional players, they were considered priceless. Whenever identical custom editions occasionally made their way onto the market, enthusiasts snapped them up instantly.

Rumor had it that even paddles discarded by national team players after being worn out could fetch astronomical prices in private sales.

Han Feng had spent over a thousand yuan on this paddle. He was absolutely a pay-to-win player.

Unfortunately... Wang Chao was no longer the same person.

The old Wang Chao feared spin and only dared to weakly push the ball back. But to the current Wang Chao, this little ball was like an attack from a minor lackey in the eyes of a martial arts grandmaster. It was full of openings from head to toe, practically screaming two words: opportunity.

He instinctively turned sideways, shifted his hips, twisted his waist, and swung his arm.

Smack!

Clear and sharp.

The small silver ball slammed onto the table in front of Han Feng, then bounced rapidly upward, sailed over Han Feng's head, and hit the floor.

"Holy shit!" Liu Yue cried out.

"Holy shit, shit, shit!" Hou Xiaojian shouted.

Han Feng was still a little dazed. He turned to look behind him and saw a small ball slowly rolling back across the professional rubber flooring after hitting the barrier, all the way to his feet.

"Holy shit." He finally came to his senses. "You just... attacked the serve directly?"

Wang Chao smiled and held up one finger. "Again."

His mood suddenly became incredibly good.

Because in that instant, he had felt that the incoming ball was exceptionally clear in his vision. His spatial awareness was incredibly precise. He could even sense the faint breeze stirred up by the spinning ball, as well as the subtle sound it made rubbing through the air.

When he swung to hit it, the paddle met the ball at exactly the moment he felt it should.

Perfect. There had not been even the slightest error.

When the paddle struck the ball, the subtle rebound force traveled through the paddle into his hand, every detail crystal clear.

Even with his eyes closed, he could imagine how this ball's trajectory and angle would change under the force he had put into it.

He had never experienced this strange sensation of near-total control, not even when he had played for the provincial team in his previous life.

Transmigrators really do get perks!

He understood all too well what this meant!

This body of his, which had been useless in the original owner's hands, actually seemed...

Perhaps...

Maybe...

Possibly...

It could be described as extraordinarily talented?

Han Feng refused to accept it and believed it had merely been a fluke. After thinking for a moment, he decided to change his serve...

This time, after tossing the ball, he twisted his wrist clockwise, cut in from the lower left side of the ball, and scraped it in the opposite direction. The rubber worth over a thousand yuan rubbed against the ball, producing stronger spin than ordinary rubber. The ball moved at great speed, barely brushing his side of the table before shooting straight toward the farthest end of the opposite table.

Yes, it was a long ball—a spinning long ball. In professional terms, it was called a "Sneak Long Serve."

A good serve was generally judged by whether it stayed short.

Because against skilled players, almost any ball that went long could be attacked directly.

But precisely because everyone assumed the serve would stay short, they instinctively stood close to the table when receiving. If, at that moment, a fast, long ball was suddenly served to catch them off guard and driven straight at their chest, they would be caught completely unprepared and have no time to retreat.

After all, once the ball was already in your face, no matter how you twisted your wrist, your paddle theoretically could not reach it.

So the best way to deal with a Sneak Long Serve was actually to anticipate the opponent's intention, prepare mentally, take one step back in advance, and then turn sideways for a direct attack.

At this moment, Wang Chao was still getting accustomed to the condition of his body, so naturally he had not considered that much.

But that did not matter.

The moment Han Feng's paddle brushed the ball, Wang Chao's mind naturally began mapping out its trajectory, and he immediately judged the direction of its spin and where it would land.

Besides, Han Feng's skill was ultimately limited. This ball was not especially fast to begin with. Even if Wang Chao had not predicted it, his current reaction speed was enough to respond in time.

So he stepped back with his right foot, turned sideways, shifted his hips, rotated his waist, and swung his arm.

Smack!

Just as crisp and sharp.

This ball was even faster than the one that had come at him. It rebounded onto Han Feng's side of the table, bounced high into the air, and before Han Feng could make any response at all, struck him on the forehead with another smack!

"Ow!" Han Feng yelped, hissing through his teeth as the other two spectators burst into laughter.

"Chaozi, did you take an aphrodisiac or something?" Han Feng rubbed his forehead and stared wide-eyed. "Look, you hit my forehead red!"