vstars Chapter 108 The Three Realms of Selflessness, The Competition Ends
Chapter 108 The Three Realms of Selflessness, The Competition Ends
Everyone on the sidelines held their breath, not daring to make a sound, for fear of disturbing the duel on the field, their eyes fixed on the two players on the court.
Everyone knows that the most intense phase of this imperial duel has only just begun.
The second half of the game went straight into a stalemate from the very first goal.
Sanada's serve.
The moment he looked up, the look in his eyes beneath the brim of his hat changed. It wasn't the impatient sharpness from before; it was a deeper, colder, more focused light.
The ball was tossed up into the air.
Swing the racket.
The speed at which the racket swung was so fast that it was almost imperceptible to the naked eye. The trajectory was like smoke blown away by the wind; you could clearly see that he was moving, but you couldn't see at what angle the racket face made contact with the ball.
"The invisible swing."
A murmur of suppressed gasps rose from the sidelines.
The ordinary members of Hyotei were seeing such a serve for the first time and whispered among themselves.
"Vice Captain Sanada's serve... I couldn't see his swing at all."
"I didn't even see my face being filmed."
"How do I answer this?"
……
Liu stood on the sidelines, his notebook open, the pen resting on the paper.
He knows the data for the "invisible swing." The swing speed exceeds 200 km/h, and the point of impact is hidden at the very end of the entire serve, leaving the opponent with almost no clues to anticipate it.
The challenge of this technology lies not in the ball speed, but in its concealment.
This move is extremely effective against ordinary opponents, but it is particularly effective against Atobe, who has excellent dynamic vision and predictive abilities.
It shouldn't be difficult.
Sure enough, Atobe moved half a step to the left ahead of time. The moment Sanada swung his racket, his dynamic vision caught the subtle change in the angle of Sanada's wrist.
The body begins to move the instant before the ball leaves the racket face.
The ball was returned to the player.
Sanada chased after him and returned the ball, and the two were locked in a tug-of-war again.
Wang Yueling stood on the sidelines, watching the ball fly from the baseline to the net, and then back to the baseline. The sound of the racket hitting the ball was steady and unhurried, like a pendulum.
He noticed that Sanada's return quality was declining.
It's not a technical problem, it's a mindset problem.
Sanada, who was on the field, wanted to verify something.
He wanted to know if it was a coincidence that Atobe caught his "thunderbolt." Was the spin of that ball not strong enough? Was the landing point not tricky enough? Was he not in good form?
He still refuses to believe that Atobe has become so strong that he can directly counter his ultimate move.
So he was testing the waters.
Every ball carries the message, "Let me see if you can really catch this," rather than "I'm going to take this point."
This in itself is a sign of a lack of self-confidence.
The real killer move is the one you use immediately. You don't have to wonder afterward if "he was just lucky to catch it."
Watching Sanada run back and forth along the baseline, each counterattack carrying that stubbornness of "I have to prove something," Mochizuki Ryou sighed softly.
What Sanada needs to let go of is not the racket, but the thought that "I can't lose".
……
Sanada continues to rely on his aggressive and powerful style of play, aiming to gain the upper hand, and will also unleash his high-speed moving shot at the right moment.
"thunder."
The ball, spinning at extremely high speed, slammed into Atobe's backhand corner.
Atobe didn't take it; he stepped aside to let it pass.
The ball landed inside the boundary, bounced twice, and rolled to the edge of the net.
"15-0".
Atobe's expression remained unchanged. He stood at the baseline, his racket twirling between his fingers, his icy blue eyes as calm as a still lake.
He had no intention of catching that ball.
Sanada frowned, not understanding why he wasn't answering.
After another round of back-and-forth, he unleashed another "thunderbolt".
This time, Atobe made a move.
He quickly moved two steps to the left to the ball's landing point, and with both hands holding the racket, hit a "high-speed topspin ball" that was still not perfect.
This time, Sanada was prepared and rushed forward, scoring with a forehand smash.
"30-0".
Atobe flicked his wrist, his expression unchanged.
Wang Yueling could see everything clearly from the sidelines.
Atobe wasn't unable to catch the "Ray" shot; he was selective in his catches. The Ray shot puts too much strain on his arm, making it impossible for him to catch every single one.
He would then choose the right moment, selecting a shot that was advantageous to him before taking the shot.
This ability to assess the situation is far smarter than blindly taking on a challenge.
On the last point of his service game, Sanada hit another "invisible swing," landing in the outside corner. Atobe returned the shot, and the two began a baseline rally.
One shot, two shots, three shots... On the thirty-first shot, Sanada made a mistake, and the ball went out of bounds.
"40-15".
Sanada took a deep breath and used "Thunder" again in his next shot.
Atobe didn't move in that direction at all this time. The ball flew past him, creating a gust of wind that ruffled the wisps of hair on his forehead.
"Game, Sanada, score 2-2."
Sanada won his service game.
Ryo Mochizuki noticed that when Sanada walked back to the baseline, his pace wasn't as fast as before.
The energy consumption of lightning is too high.
Each use of it accelerates the depletion of his physical strength.
His playing style was never designed for prolonged battles. Every shot requires power, every ball requires a sprint. Techniques like "fire" and "thunder" place extremely high demands on the body, consuming a lot of energy with each strike.
He was able to finish the fight quickly before because his opponents couldn't withstand his declining stamina.
But Atobe held on.
Moreover, he not only held out, but also dragged Sanada into his area of expertise—a war of attrition.
Therefore, Atobe did not choose to fight his "lightning" head-on at all. He only accepted it when he was confident, and let it go at other times, quietly accumulating strength.
This is not retreat, it's a tactic.
Atobe's tactics were simple:
I won't compete with your explosiveness, I'll compete with your endurance. You hit your "fire," I'll step back and receive. You hit your "thunder," I'll block with both hands. You hit the ball where I can't reach, I'll chase. No matter how tricky your angle, I'll run.
I just won't let you kill me in one go.
Then, when you get tired, when your movements start to become distorted, when you can no longer exert force at will, I will start to counterattack.
This isn't some sophisticated tactic; it's simply patience.
What Sanada lacks most is patience.
He became more and more anxious and agitated as he fought.
He wanted to end the point with every shot, and to kill the ball with every single one. But his stamina was declining, his power was no longer precise, and his changes of direction were no longer decisive. His once impenetrable defense began to show weaknesses.
Atobe seized upon these loopholes.
He was like a seasoned hunter, patiently dragging his prey into his own rhythmic trap, gradually wearing down the opponent's physical strength and mentality.
Take your time, be patient and meticulous, and work your way up step by step.
望月凌看着记分牌上的数字从4-4跳到5-5，又跳到6-6。
Neither side could gain a significant advantage, and no game could be won easily.
Time passed by, second by second.
As the sun gradually set in the west, the light changed from a blinding white to a soft orange-gold. The scorching heat in the air also gradually turned cool.
On the court, the only sounds were the racket whistling through the air, heavy breathing, and the rustling of shoes on the grass.
The audience remained breathless, barely daring to breathe too heavily.
The area around Rikkai University was eerily quiet.
Liu Lian'er's pen remained motionless on the paper for a long time.
He looked down at his notebook, which was filled with dense data that had become increasingly disorganized since the third game. Atobe's shot placement, return trajectory, and scoring patterns were all missing from the previous database.
It's not that I don't want to remember.
The data is completely out of control.
It's because Atobe has evolved to a point where his data can't cover it.
Sanada is the same.
The page in the notebook containing data about Sanada has been mostly crossed out since the start of the match. It's not that the data is wrong; it's that Sanada's performance doesn't match the data.
It's fair to say that the two players on the court, and the ball they played, were entirely outside of his statistics.
He raised his head, his brown eyes wide open. There was no trace of relaxation in his eyes, and his brows were furrowed into a shallow knot.
Niou leaned against Yagyu, and the light in his fox eyes turned into a rare seriousness.
His fingers unconsciously circled his braid, round and round, but his mind was not on it at all.
"Sanada has completely fallen into Atobe's rhythm trap."
"It's like a spider that has spun its web, waiting for its prey to walk right into it. Atobe is that spider, and Sanada is that moth. Every struggle only tightens the web."
"The situation is quite dire."
Hearing this, Yagyu adjusted his glasses; the lenses reflected the light, obscuring his expression. But his fingers continued to rub the handle of his racket rapidly. "Atobe's tactics were clear: to prolong the match, the longer the better, and he succeeded."
"Sanada knows that," Niou glanced at him and replied.
"Knowing something doesn't mean you can break it."
The two remained silent for a while.
Kirihara clung to the netting, his fingers gripping the mesh tightly, his mouth open, but he couldn't utter a single word.
He watched as the seemingly omnipotent vice-minister was dragged into an endless tug-of-war by Atobe. He watched as his stamina was gradually drained, and his movements grew slower and slower.
Kirihara had never seen a vice minister like this before.
In his memory, Vice Captain Sanada was always the one standing firmly in the center of the court, unmoved as a mountain. No matter how strong the opponent was, he could win the game within three sets.
I've never been dragged around like this before.
Marui took a mint from his pocket, put it in his mouth, and held it there without moving.
Kuwahara stood next to him, his hands in his pockets, clenched into fists.
They were all thinking the same thing.
If Atobe has become this strong, then how much of their previous understanding was wrong?
That inherent kingly arrogance is being torn apart bit by bit by this long tug-of-war.
The Hyotei camp, however, remained steadfast.
Renji leaned against the fencing, a knowing smile playing on his lips, his eyes filled with certainty. Mukahi clenched his fists, his gaze resolute, showing not a trace of panic.
Hiyoshi observed the situation on the field, a slight twitch at the corner of his lips, and murmured the belief of his school of martial arts, "Overthrowing superiors is how it should be."
Feng gazed at Atobe, who remained calm and composed, his eyes filled with genuine admiration.
Kabaji remained standing quietly, his gaze fixed on Atobe, firmly believing that Atobe-senpai would win.
Everyone knew that the longer this tug-of-war dragged on, the more advantageous it would be for Atobe.
Victory is just one step away.
……
The decisive seventh game.
The entire place was so quiet you could hear the wind rustling through the grass.
记分牌上的数字在跳动，1-0，1-1，2-1，2-2……
Every point felt like walking on a knife's edge.
Sanada's physical strength has reached its limit.
His arms ached, each swing of the racket carrying a heavy fatigue. The muscles in his thighs were trembling, and his calves felt as heavy as lead. His breathing was rapid and deep, his chest felt like it was being pressed down by something, and each breath required effort.
He stared intently at Atobe across from him, his eyes swirling with shock and disbelief.
Atobe stood as straight as ever, his breathing as steady as ever, and his hand movements as clean as ever. It was as if he had been fighting for almost two hours as if he had only fought for two minutes; he showed no signs of fatigue.
Sanada's heart sank a little.
A thought kept flashing through his mind.
To employ... "yin".
That was his most concealed trump card, a silent and unexpected decisive blow. Perhaps only "underhanded tactics" can break this tug-of-war and win the game.
But he didn't move.
His inherent pride prevented him from making a decision.
He was used to the direct, forceful attacks of the Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain, and Thunder style, used to crushing his opponents head-on with absolute strength, and used to fighting while adhering to his bottom line.
They are even less willing to admit that they have been forced to the point where they need to use their trump cards.
The score in the tiebreaker climbed steadily, with the two players trading blows and remaining deadlocked.
Sanada unleashed powerful attacks of lightning and fire time and time again, trying to end the battle quickly. Each all-out attack was consuming his already dwindling stamina.
Atobe, however, remained calm and composed, refusing to forcibly dismantle Rei's defenses on every ball.
He can distinguish between the pros and cons, knowing that directly catching a super-fast topspin ball will put irreversible strain on his arm. He can assess the situation and choose to avoid or pull the ball, never engaging in unnecessary exertion.
But as soon as Sanada shows a weakness, he will immediately seize the opportunity to counterattack and firmly control the initiative on the field.
The score remained close until 86-85, when Atobe once again secured match point.
Sanada stood at the baseline, gripping his racket tightly; the sweatband on the handle was already soaked.
He looked at Atobe across from him, and Atobe looked back at him.
Then Atobe made a move.
It wasn't running, it wasn't swinging the racket, it was the change in his aura. His short, silver-gray hair was gently blown by the wind, and the moment he looked up, a cold, icy glint suddenly appeared in his eyes.
Then his aura suddenly burst forth, a thin layer of light swirling around him, and an invisible oppressive force swept across the entire arena.
Wang Yueling stood up straight on the sidelines.
"I was finally forced to come out."
The core of this move is the same as the "Ice World" that Atobe will create in the future.
It's all about prediction, control, and taking everything about the opponent into one's own calculations.
However, the "Ice World" is about seeing the opponent's blind spots and freezing their weaknesses into ice.
This move is still in its early stages.
Sanada's eyes widened slightly.
"What is that?"
He felt a sense of oppression.
It wasn't physical oppression, it was psychological.
Atobe's gaze fell upon him, as if he were observing a chess game that had been meticulously calculated. All the pieces were in their proper places, all the moves had been planned out, and all that remained was to play them step by step.
Sanada didn't want to admit it, but he sensed it.
His subconscious was telling him that with every move he made, every swing of his racket, and every powerful attack, he would inevitably run into the inescapable trap set by Atobe.
Atobe tossed the ball up into the air.
It wasn't a Tannhäuser serve, just an ordinary serve. But the choice of the ball's landing point, the intensity of the spin, and the control of the rhythm were all so precise that they were almost frightening.
Sanada returns the ball.
Atobe was already waiting there. With a gentle tap of his racket, the ball landed in Sanada's backhand corner.
Sanada chased after him and returned the ball.
Atobe was waiting there again.
Another blind spot.
It's another chase.
Another return.
Sanada looked bewildered, a sense of panic rising within him.
Using his last bit of strength, he unleashed "Move Like Thunder" and "Aggressive Like Fire" attacks one after another, but Atobe anticipated all of them and neutralized them one by one.
The entire stadium fell into a deathly silence.
The pen in Liu's hand suddenly slipped from her fingers and fell onto the grass with a soft sound.
He paused slightly, his brown eyes fixed on Atobe, and he spoke instinctively.
"Is Atobe... bursting with talent?"
His voice wasn't loud, but everyone around him heard it.
Kirihara stood next to him, scratching his hair, which was covered in gel, and grabbed a handful of glitter. He looked at Yanagi with a blank expression.
"Senior Liu, what is 'radiant talent'? It sounds amazing." He rubbed his hands on his clothes, tilted his head, and looked curious with puzzlement in his eyes.
Renwang snapped out of his reverie, sighed softly, his braid swaying on his shoulder, his tone tinged with emotion.
"If he truly has a burst of talent, then Atobe has really been hiding it for a long time."
He looked up at the court, wrapped his braid around his finger, and circled it again and again. "In the junior high school tennis world, the only one who has reached this level so far is Chisei Senri, formerly of Lion Music."
Yagyu nodded slightly, echoing Niou's words, a hint of surprise in his eyes.
"Indeed. A prediction of Chitose Senri's absolute dominance is unique in the junior high school tennis world."
Marui chewed on a cool mint and nodded in agreement. "I'd only ever seen reports about it in magazines before, I never thought I'd see it in person today..."
Oshitari walked over at some point and stood beside them. He adjusted his glasses, and his tone was much more serious than usual.
"This must be what it means for Atobe to be bursting with talent."
"I once watched a live match of Chitose Senri. Chitose was shining just like Atobe on the field, anticipating her opponent's moves."
He paused, thought for a moment, and then added another sentence.
"But the difference is that Chitose's hair can fly up, and she can make predictions. Like, 'I will score on point X in this game,' and so on."
Kirihara was completely confused. He paced back and forth, clutching his hair, his cheeks flushed slightly with anxiety. "Don't just tell me what it is! Tell me what it is!"
He turned to look at Jiro and Mukahi beside him. The two of them also looked curious, eagerly waiting for the others to explain.
Wang Yueling stood to the side, watching the group chatter away, but not telling Kirihara anything, which made Xiaohai anxious and jumping up and down.
He chuckled softly, walked to the center of the crowd, raised his hand to gently brush his golden hair from his forehead, and his azure eyes held a gentle smile.
"Let me tell you about it."
"The state of 'no-self' is divided into three limits."
"The ultimate understanding achieved through countless trials and tribulations is also known as 'mastery through repeated practice.' It focuses on breaking through one's own limitations through daily arduous training. It concentrates all the body's power into a specific part, greatly enhancing the capabilities of that part."
"The pinnacle of talent, the ultimate mental foresight, anticipating the course of the game, locking in the landing point and scoring of every ball. Simulating the entire round's trajectory the moment the opponent makes a shot, finding the optimal solution."
"The ultimate goal of perfect harmony is to move at will, without any set moves or techniques, achieving a state of oneness between man and tennis. It is said to be about returning to the original, pure joy of tennis."
He paused, then looked up at Atobe on the field.
"Right now, Atobe is only halfway there, with one foot already in the door, yet he's already showing promise."
"The 'thousand-mile journey' you mentioned has been cultivated to the point of completion, allowing for precise simulation of the entire game's progress and scoring through the shortest path."
"Atobe can't do it yet."
Marui sighed softly after hearing this, slowing down his chewing of the candy, and a look of realization dawned on his face.
"So there are such sophisticated classifications."
Liu bent down to pick up the pen from the ground, brushed off the grass clippings, reopened her notebook, and quietly began to add to the information she had collected.
"According to the data I recorded, Tezuka Kunimitsu of Seigaku has already reached the point of being tempered and refined, and perhaps these two people online now have also reached the threshold."
"Of course, Yukimura too."
"Chitose Senri is a representative figure of 'brilliant talent' in the junior high school community."
"And the most difficult to achieve is perfection, which is currently known to have been attained only by Echizen Nanjiro. He is also the only person to have reached this level."
Kirihara's eyes widened in disbelief as he scratched his head. "There are so many hidden levels? I've been playing tennis for so long and I've never heard of them before."
Kuwabara stood beside him, smiled, and patted Kirihara on the shoulder.
"Aka, you usually only care about playing games and eating snacks, and you never read tennis news. If you pay more attention to the matches in the future, you won't be completely clueless like this now."
Kirihara blushed at his words, wanting to retort but unsure what to say, finally letting out a muffled "Oh." He turned to stare at the arena, trying to understand more about Atobe's strange state.
Wang Yueling stood aside without saying another word, her gaze returning to the two people engaged in the duel.
The tug-of-war in Game 7 continues.
This was already the most brutal game of the entire night.
Sanada ran back and forth on the court, every step of which was within Atobe's calculations.
His strength was rapidly waning.
His movements were distorted.
His will was being worn down little by little.
He was still struggling with whether or not to use Yin, and the pride etched into his bones prevented him from taking that step.
Until the very last few points of the match, he still stuck to his original Wind, Forest, Fire, Mountain and Lightning attack style, launching forceful attacks again and again, only to have them easily neutralized by Atobe time and time again.
His black baseball cap was blown off by the wind during a desperate catch and fell onto the grass, but he didn't have time to care.
The spectators had long since lost count of how many times the score was tied and how many times the match point was changed.
Atobe had several match points, but Sanada managed to save them each time with his tenacious will.
The difference in physical fitness, mentality, and level of understanding had already predetermined the outcome.
The last goal.
Atobe's return shot landed in the dead corner of Sanada's forehand side, at an incredibly difficult angle. Sanada used his last bit of strength to dive and save it, but still couldn't touch the tennis ball.
The ball landed on the grass, rolled twice, and then stopped.
The entire room fell silent for about three seconds.
The referee's clear whistle pierced the air.
"Game, Atobe, score 7-6."