Mo Qiong

"Tut... where did my arrow go?"

On the coast by Yan Da in China, a young man had been pacing along the shore for an hour.

He held a short bow in his hand, but one of his arrows was nowhere to be found.

At noon, with nothing better to do, he had found an empty spot, set up a target, and practiced archery.

Then, for some reason, he had decided the sun was too scorching and, in a burst of chuunibyou spirit, shot an arrow at it.

Could an arrow shoot down the sun? Did he really think he was Hou Yi?

Yet he had actually gotten his comeuppance. In the blink of an eye, the arrow was gone.

He had briefly stared straight at the sun. Even after being weakened layer by layer, the light from a stellar photosphere was not something the naked eye could gaze at for long.

So, as he released that arrow, he had closed his eyes.

Then he heard a thunderous boom that nearly deafened him.

By the time he recovered from his dizziness and looked up at the sky, all that remained was a streak of cloud piercing the heavens, as though a meteor had fallen.

The cloud trail quickly faded. The young man looked around in every direction, once wondering whether he had somehow fired an air-piercing arrow that had shocked everyone for miles around.

But he soon shook his head with a laugh, figuring the wind had probably blown the arrow into the sea.

"Forget it, forget it."

The young man found it strange, but if he could not find it, then he could not find it. There was nothing he could do.

After making another round, he finally gave up.

He packed up his archery gear and headed back to the dormitory.

The moment he entered, he heard his roommate Han Dang say, "Magic Ball, why are you so late? Did you go shoot the sun or something? We've got a match this afternoon."

The young man made an embarrassed face. Since he always went off to practice archery, his classmates liked to joke that he was training to shoot down the sun.

"I know. Sigh, I lost an arrow. I spent an hour looking for it and still couldn't find it."

"It's just one arrow. Hurry up and assemble!" His roommate said as he ran off.

"Han Dang, wait! I need to put my bow away," the young man hurriedly said.

His name was Mo Qiong, not Magic Ball, but his classmates all liked calling him that, so he let them.

As a child from the mountains, he might originally have been named Qiang, Wei, or Sheng.

But paired with his surname, even the most common names somehow sounded wrong.

At first, he had another name, Mo Chao. But when spoken aloud, it sounded like "do not surpass."

A person needed ambition. If one did not surpass others, was one supposed to stay at the bottom?

That name had only followed him for three years before he was given another one: Mo Qiong. Although Mo Qiong had grown up thinking his old name sounded better, it was too troublesome to change it again after he started school.

His family's thinking had been simple. Since their surname was Mo, they should name him after whatever they feared most.

They did not understand what sort of future a child should have. They only knew one hard truth: never be poor!

There was no simpler hope than that. Only people who feared poverty deeply would come up with such a name.

Mo Qiong was quite driven as well. His grades had always ranked near the top, and in the two years since entering Yan Da, although he had never received a scholarship, he had grants and did odd jobs. The burden on his family had lightened considerably.

At that moment, Han Dang pulled Mo Qiong along. "Why put the bow away? Just toss it on the bed."

Dragged by him, Mo Qiong did not have time to hang up his bow properly, so he simply tossed it toward the rack by his bed.

"Whoosh... clang..."

The bow and quiver in his hand each traced an arc through the air, crossed a distance of three meters, and landed precisely on the rack.

If it had only been one item, anyone might have managed it after enough practice.

But Mo Qiong had thrown the bow and quiver at the same time with one hand, making them hang from opposite sides of the rack. The whole motion looked exceptionally smooth and carefree.

Mo Qiong paused in surprise. He had not expected his touch to be so good.

"Impressive. See? Let's go!" Han Dang was first astonished by Mo Qiong's throwing skill, then pulled him out of the dormitory.

There was a football match that afternoon, a home game against the Dengzhou Sports School football team.

Though it was only a friendly, their opponents were a powerhouse in the Super Group of the University Student Football League's East China Region.

The club president had said that if they won, there would be a grand dinner that night, along with countless beautiful girls.

Everyone knew the second half was nonsense, but they still took this match extremely seriously.

On the way, Han Dang said, "Pass me the ball more during the match, okay?"

"You should be telling the midfielders that." Mo Qiong smiled.

He had loved archery since childhood. As a mountain kid, he had used a slingshot to hunt birds at six, learned to make bows and arrows at ten, and by eighteen, could shoot a Wild Chicken in the neck from fifty meters away.

His physical condition was excellent. He stood one meter eighty-nine, with long arms and long legs, and could now hit the bullseye nine times out of ten from a hundred paces.

That was why Mo Qiong had joined the Football Club at school...

Yes, someone skilled with bows and arrows... had joined the Football Club. There was no helping it—his school did not have an archery club, and he had to join at least one club. His roommates had dragged him into the Football Club.

And he really was suited for it. He had a broad field of vision, quick reflexes, and those long limbs. In just a year, he had become the Football Club's starting goalkeeper.

Han Dang, on the other hand, was fast and good at dribbling, making him their main striker.

Their positions were worlds apart, so Mo Qiong laughed at Han Dang for asking him for passes.

"Come on, do you really expect us to overpower their midfield? Maybe I'll end up as the only one in the front line getting crushed... Rather than hope for passes, I'd better hope you can just boot the ball straight toward my position and pray for luck." Han Dang looked as though he had seen the future.

Mo Qiong laughed. "Then let me make a prediction too. Wang Xiong will definitely keep passing back to me like crazy."

"That deadweight is terrible, yet he insists on starting." Han Dang curled his lip.

"Have you ever seen a captain not start?" Mo Qiong shrugged.

When they arrived at the locker room, there were still fifteen minutes before they had to take the field.

Mo Qiong quickly changed into his jersey and football boots, then sat on the bench and listened to the coach's instructions.

The coach saw him and nodded. "Little Mo, your task is very important today. Their number twelve, Zhang Xin, averages 1.8 goals per league appearance. Both feet are his preferred foot. If you can keep him scoreless, we'll have a chance."

Mo Qiong nodded to show that he understood.

The coach rambled on for a few more sentences. It sounded reasonably convincing, but that was all.

After all that talk, the final strategy was simple: defend and look for opportunities.

That was right—not even defensive counterattacks. What the coach said was: look for opportunities...

After all, he was not a professional coach, and they were not professional players. It was already good enough that the Football Club had found someone to analyze their opponents.

Just before taking the field, the captain encouraged them again. "Same as before: if we win, there's a grand dinner and a mixer."

"Hundreds of junior girls are watching us from the stands. It doesn't matter how many goals we concede. What matters is showing some spirit!"

"Football is round. What if we win?"

"We can't let Yan Da lose its momentum. Got it?"

The crowd shouted, "Yeah!"

Mo Qiong looked spirited too, but inwardly, he was speechless.

What did he mean, it did not matter how many goals they conceded?

That pep talk would have been better left unsaid. If he could say something like that, then deep down, he must instinctively believe they were about to get completely slaughtered.

Once they took the field, everyone habitually turned toward the stands. The moment they looked, they all froze.

There was actually a huge group of female students in the stands—at least two hundred of them, chatting and laughing together.

"My god, Wang Xiong really has some skills," Han Dang said in astonishment.

Mo Qiong was stunned too. There were usually quite a few people watching football, but very few were girls.

Normally, having a handful was already decent. This time, more than two hundred had come at once. It was downright terrifying, and the meaning of this match changed immediately.

Wang Xiong said, "What do you think? I didn't lie to you, did I? This is only a friendly, so they definitely won't go all out. Once the match starts, let's coordinate and hit them hard."

Everyone nodded, their energy immediately changing.

Under the spectators' gazes, Mo Qiong could see the confidence on everyone's faces. None of them looked like they were facing a strong team.

With their morale soaring, Wang Xiong said, "Play well. If we get fierce, we can go fifty-fifty with the sports school!"

"..." Mo Qiong ran to the goal with a helpless laugh. He truly did not want to hear Wang Xiong's encouragement anymore. Even when boasting, the guy only dared claim they could go fifty-fifty. Better not boast at all.

The match began, and louder cheers than usual rose from the stands.

Mo Qiong clapped his hands and began observing the game.

Just as Wang Xiong had said, they came out swinging.

The midfield pushed forward in force, doing everything they could to create chances.

Wang Xiong, their left back, had even crossed the halfway line.

Mo Qiong's heart skipped a beat. This is bad.

Sure enough, just four minutes later, possession changed hands and the opposing team launched a sudden counterattack.

After only three passes, the ball was brought to the left side of the penalty area.

Wang Xiong was too slow getting back, leaving the left flank nearly empty. The player driving the ball into the box was number twelve, Zhang Xin.

Mo Qiong stared fixedly at Zhang Xin's feet, using his body to cover as much of the angle as possible.

Bang!

Facing the shot, Mo Qiong calmly read its trajectory, but the ball was too fast. He only had time to punch it away.

He thought that if he tried to catch it, he might fail to hold on, letting the ball drop into the six-yard box or even at Zhang Xin's feet. If that happened, he would have no way to stop the follow-up shot.

A corner is acceptable. At least we can reset our formation... Just as Mo Qiong thought this, he suddenly stared at the ball in midair in astonishment.

The ball had not flown over the end line. Instead, it curled through the air and bounced back down at Zhang Xin's feet.

"What?"

Mo Qiong had no time to think and hurriedly closed off the angle again.

The Landing Point of the ball had caught both him and Zhang Xin off guard.

Zhang Xin had assumed the ball would be punched over the end line and had even inwardly lamented the missed chance. Who would have thought it would bounce back to his feet? After a brief moment of surprise, he decisively fired a close-range follow-up shot.

Bang! Mo Qiong reacted quickly. Since he had hunted birds from childhood, he had an exceptional grasp of the trajectories of moving objects.

He tracked the football, braced one hand against the grass, and kicked upward on instinct.

He actually touched the ball.

I only grazed it. This ball is going in... Just as Mo Qiong thought that, the football rebounded off his kick and somehow landed on the grass in front of his face from behind him!

"Huh?"

Mo Qiong immediately reached out, gathered the ball into his arms, and lay motionless on the ground clutching it.

Zhang Xin had already been preparing to celebrate. Seeing that backward, prone Scorpion's Tail maneuver, he was utterly bewildered.

"What a pity." Zhang Xin was annoyed, but he also stared at Mo Qiong in amazement as he slowly withdrew from the penalty area.

He thought his luck had been bad. Using one's heel from a backward position, like a Scorpion's Tail, to lift the ball through the air in front of oneself required perfectly controlled force and angle. Even professional players could only rely on luck for something like that; most of the time, they had no idea where the rebound would go.

The opponents' frustration meant cheers from his teammates.

That double save was too spectacular. Only four minutes into the game, the atmosphere suddenly became lively.

The howls of fellow students immediately erupted around him.

"Woo woo woo woo!"

"Awesome!"

"Our number one is insane!"

"His name seems to be something Ball, right? I've watched his previous matches. His reactions are fast. But that play just now was seriously amazing. He must be overperforming today."

As the home team, they had nearly five hundred people watching this match. Usually there were not nearly so many, but there were more girls watching today, which finally created a strong home-field atmosphere.

However, most of those girls had been startled by the sudden explosion of cheers.

"Did they score? No? Then what are those guys yelling about?"

"I don't know. I wasn't watching the game."

Most of the girls did not understand why the boys had suddenly become so excited. Hadn't the match only just started?

They had all been persuaded by Wang Xiong to free up time for the dozen or so club mixers that evening. Their own clubs had no events, and since the Football Club happened to have an important match, Wang Xiong had invited them over to show support.

They were not interested in football to begin with. They had merely sat around chatting, treating it as a gathering before the mixer.

Hearing the girls' confusion, a chubby guy immediately leaned over and began explaining. "What happened just now was a professional-level save. That number one used his heel to kick upward, stopping the shot while also making the ball land right in front of him..."

He vividly described what had just happened, but the girls' reaction was simply, "Oh..."

The chubby guy was a little discouraged, but there were still girls at the scene who liked watching boys play football. They asked, "Why did he use his heel?"

"Because it was a double save..."

Seeing that someone was engaging with him, the chubby guy immediately perked up. He naturally became a commentator, enthusiastically narrating the action on the field.

And surprisingly, his presence finally got most of the girls to put down their phones and start paying attention to the match.

P.S. Please support the new book and add it to your collection. Although the ability is only Absolute Hit, it can lead to many imaginative possibilities.