Already quite powerful.

The triple plea as usual! Votes, recommendations, and bookmarks, bookmarks, bookmarks—please bookmark, please bookmark, please bookmark, please bookmark!

Finally, relying on his tall and sturdy build, Yang Tang forced Horio to lend him his racket.

"Alright, two seniors, I'm going to start now!"

Seeing how dead serious Yang Tang looked, the dark-skinned sophomore and the freckled sophomore felt a sudden twitch in their hearts, fearing that Yang Tang might actually be a wolf in sheep's clothing. As a result—

Toss the ball, swing the racket, swing and a miss!

What!?

Everyone present, including Echizen, was so shocked their jaws almost hit the ground!

This—this was absolute beginner behavior, even worse than a total novice.

Yang Tang chuckled awkwardly and tried again.

Toss the ball, swing the racket, swing and a miss!

Toss the ball, swing the racket, swing and a miss!

The sophomore with dark skin finally couldn't help himself. "Hey, hey, Xuanyuan Tang, you don't know how to play tennis at all! At this rate, it'll take you until the Year of the Ox to hit ten balls!"

Yang Tang glared back at the two of them, sneering coldly, "Senior sirs, you are awfully noisy. How about this: every two complete misses counts as one official serve, just like in a formal match!"

"Heh, so you actually know how a formal match is served! Fine, have it your way. Two misses count as a single serve!" the dark-skinned sophomore said, putting on a magnanimous facade.

Thus, Yang Tang continued to practice his serves.

Toss the ball, swing the racket, swing and a miss!

Toss the ball, swing the racket, swing and a miss!

Toss the ball, swing the racket, swing and a miss!

Toss the ball, swing the racket, *bang*! The tennis ball shot out like a cannonball from a barrel, startling everyone present, though unfortunately, it hit the net.

The freckled sophomore swallowed hard and asked, "Is—is this the, uh, how manyth ball?"

"Including the previous six misses, this is the fourth ball, senior!" Yang Tang replied, muttering under his breath, "Actually, hitting the net should probably be re-served too..."

"No way!" The dark-skinned sophomore quickly crushed Yang Tang's wonderful fantasy. "Counting two misses as one ball is already doing you a favor, don't push your luck!"

Yang Tang tilted his head noncommittally and continued serving.

Toss the ball, swing the racket, swing and a miss!

Toss the ball, swing the racket, swing and a miss!

Toss the ball, swing the racket, *bang*—into the net.

Toss the ball, swing the racket, swing and a miss!

Toss the ball, swing the racket, *bang*—into the net.

Toss the ball, swing the racket, *bang*—into the net.

Toss the ball, swing the racket, *bang*—it sailed directly out of the baseline on the opposite court.

"That makes nine balls, right?" the dark-skinned sophomore asked quietly.

"Yes. Phew..." Both of them let out a long sigh of relief.

Horio and the others, as well as Echizen who was stretching his neck to watch from the side, were somewhat disappointed. Yang Tang's serves were undeniably powerful, but alas, they lacked both accuracy and arc, to say nothing of any "placement." He was entirely a tennis rookie. As for that final ball, forget about hitting the soda can; grazing the edge was completely out of the question.

Little did they know that Yang Tang had spent all those previous attempts getting a feel for striking the tennis ball. It was much like butchering meat—you couldn't just hack blindly; you had to follow the grain of the meat to do it effortlessly. And right now, Yang Tang had finally captured the "feel" and "rhythm" required to strike the ball!

"Last ball."

Yang Tang stood just behind the center mark of the baseline, standing sideways facing the right net post. Toss the ball, swing the racket, *bang*! The tennis ball swept past the right net post like a shooting star, heading straight for the right-hand wire fence.

"It's over, it's over. Xuanyuan is done for too!" Horio said despondently, though his tone carried a hint of schadenfreude.

Yang Tang heard Horio's words loud and clear, sneering indifferently while casting his gaze toward the soda can resting on the left side of the opposite court. "Class 1 Mode, locked on!"

Guided by Yang Tang's willpower, the trajectory of the tennis ball suddenly morphed, tracing a wide arc in midair just like a Snake Shot, heading straight for the soda can positioned at the corner of the service box on the left side of the opposing court.

*Bang!!*

The tennis ball struck the soda can with pinpoint accuracy.

Even though it was filled with pebbles, the soda can flew backward like a baseball hit for a home run, clattering as it wedged itself firmly into the wire fence. Meanwhile, the tennis ball, its momentum still not fully spent, embedded itself into the wire fence on the other side, spinning for six or seven seconds before finally coming to a halt.

In an instant, the entire area fell dead silent!

Echizen and Horio stood frozen like wooden chickens.

Yang Tang alone felt not a shred of surprise. Instead, he turned to the two sophomores and said, "Two seniors, I hit the can. Hand over the cash, pay up!"

"This..."

"What? Trying to welsh on a debt?" Wearing an unkind expression, Yang Tang walked right up to the dark-skinned and freckled sophomores. Grabbing each of them by the collar with a single hand, he hoisted them effortlessly into the air.

Echizen, Horio, and the rest stared in stunned silence, their jaws hanging open.

*Thump!*

At that moment, a tennis ball came flying from a distance, landing precisely right by Yang Tang's feet. Following that, Momoshiro Takeshi swaggered onto the scene with his racket slung over his shoulder. "Aha! That was close, almost hit someone there. Hey, what are you guys doing?"

To everyone's surprise, Yang Tang wasn't fazed by Momoshiro's act at all, nor did he have any intention of putting the two sophomores down. He simply tilted his head and replied indifferently, "Oh, another sophomore shows up. Could it be you're looking to pay off the debt for these two?"

"Pay off a debt? What debt?" Momoshiro asked in bewilderment.

Horio hurried over and rattled off a full explanation.

Momoshiro walked over to the wire fence, inspected the embedded soda can, and his expression turned somewhat solemn. He turned to Yang Tang and asked, "Are you that newly transferred first-year?"

"So what if I am? Don't go thinking seniors can get away with not paying their debts!"

Momoshiro was clearly intimidated by Yang Tang's imposing aura and cleverly sidestepped the issue. "That's your business. Right now, I just want to play a match with this little runt!" With that, he pointed his racket at Echizen.

"Suit yourselves. But this court is off-limits. If you want to battle, go to the next court over."

Echizen didn't mind. He picked up his tennis bag and headed to the adjacent court. After a brief hesitation, Momoshiro decided not to press the matter further and trotted off after Echizen. Horio and his two cronies similarly greased their palms and scurried away.

In the end, only Yang Tang and the two debt-ridden seniors remained. After extorting a full ten thousand yen from them, Yang Tang didn't forget to issue a parting threat: "I'm sure the school administration has the home addresses of both of you. If you dare report today's incident to the school, this first-year wouldn't mind dropping by your houses and burning your mansions down to ashes!"

Hearing this, the two sophomores looked at each other in sheer terror.

Tokyo, Meguro Ward, The Westin Hotel, Presidential Suite.

"Mr. Xuanyuan, you're back. Would you like to have dinner?"

"Of course."

During the meal, Yang Tang dropped hints and finally figured out that Ming Wu had booked a year-long stay at this hotel's presidential suite for him, having even prepaid the basic room charges, buffet breakfast fees, and city taxes in advance.

Additionally, a Mastercard had materialized in his wallet, boasting a cash balance of over forty million US dollars. The sum presumably matched his dark gold coins minus the few millions spent at the Seventh Dream, plus the advance payment for the presidential suite.

"Damn, money really does make the ghosts grind the mill!" Yang Tang muttered to himself while eating dinner.

"Mr. Xuanyuan, did you say something?" asked a female attendant standing at a respectful distance.

"Nothing. Go buy me three sets of tennis rackets—get the most expensive kind, and make sure none of the brands overlap!"

"Understood!"

The rackets were procured promptly, accompanied by complimentary tennis bags. After making some inquiries with the hotel staff and finishing his dinner, Yang Tang hopped on a bicycle and headed to a nearby indoor facility to practice.

Yang Tang didn't practice anything else; he focused entirely on receiving returns. Moreover, he had a coach accompany him, starting from a single tennis ball machine. By the end of an all-night session, Yang Tang was already capable of returning balls from six different pitching machines simultaneously, hitting all six balls to the exact same landing spot. Even the accompanying sparring coach couldn't help praising Yang Tang as a natural-born genius after witnessing such a feat.

Yet Yang Tang knew deep down that this was merely due to his freakish physical attributes. If an ordinary person had subjected themselves to such an overnight training regimen, their body would have broken down long ago.

Furthermore, whether returning or serving, Yang Tang hadn't used his full strength—he hadn't even exerted half of it. Coupled with his unfathomable internal martial arts, he stood a very strong chance of defeating the regular team members of Seigaku before the national tournament.

Thus, the very next day, Yang Tang sought out Coach Ryuuzaki and had a lengthy, confidential chat with her in her office before leaving with a satisfied expression.

Finally, the Seigaku intra-team preliminary selections arrived in April.

The roster was released.

The names of Yang Tang and Echizen were prominently featured.

Yang Tang was placed in Group A, where the official team members in his group included Fuji Shuusuke and Kawamura Takashi, with the rest being mere underlings.

Echizen, meanwhile, was grouped with Inui Sadaharu and Kaidoh Kaoru in Group B.

In the very first match of Group A, Yang Tang squared off against Kawamura.

Standing 181 centimeters tall, Yang Tang faced the 180-centimeter Kawamura. Both were powerhouse-type players, but Kawamura was a hyper-aggressive player who underwent a fierce transformation the moment he laid hands on a racket.

Right off the bat, it was Kawamura's service game. Gripping the ball, he let out a wild roar—"Burning!"—and unleashed a ferocious serve.

*Bang!*

Yet no matter how fast the ball traveled, it remained completely transparent under the Eagle Eye. Yang Tang immediately swung his racket and redirected the glowing golden sphere toward the wire fence at the side of the court.

"Return error?"

"That first-year named Xuanyuan Tang is way too sloppy with his returns."

"No... it shouldn't be a mistake."

"On what grounds?"

Before the courtside chatter could die down, the tennis ball was seen curving past the net post, drawing a wide arc before heading straight for the baseline.

Kawamura rushed to retrieve the shot, but the ball was moving too fast; it bounced right on the baseline and easily sailed past his attempted interception.

"15–0, Xuanyuan leads!"

Tezuka, Fuji, and the others watching from the sidelines all wore expressions of slight surprise.

Oishi asked, "Captain, what do you think?"

"Neither player has gone all out yet. It's too early to tell anything..."

To be fair, Tezuka's assessment was spot-on. Kawamura hadn't entered his peak zone yet, and Yang Tang had only applied three-tenths of his strength. Otherwise, with his baseline power, hitting a passing shot at speeds exceeding 200 kilometers per hour would have been effortless.

However, it didn't take long for all the Seigaku players to experience the true terror of Yang Tang.

"30–0, Xuanyuan leads!"

"Kawamura's Burning Serve is actually ineffective against that first-year!"

"40–0, Xuanyuan leads!"

"The speed of that first-year's return is simply too fast. Kawamura has already been passed three times!"

"Game! 1–0, Xuanyuan leads, switch sides!"

An uproar erupted along the sidelines.

Kawamura's service game had actually been shut out completely by his opponent, a development the members of the tennis club found impossible to accept no matter how they looked at it.

"Second game, Xuanyuan to serve!"

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