Prince of Tennis: Shocking! Hyotei's Demon King is a Yukimura fangirl!

Chapter 51 Wangyue Ling's Furious Outburst

The entire venue was so quiet that you could hear the wind whistling through the netting.

Two hundred-plus people stood there, watching Wang Yueling list out each of the regulars' questions one by one, down to the number, down to the centimeter, down to the second. They secretly sighed, thinking that only the regulars could handle this level of intensity; the others should just focus on building a solid foundation.

The selected members were all sweating profusely, and their Adam's apples bobbed involuntarily.

A week?!

Can they really accomplish all of this in a week?

After hearing everyone's goals, Atobe was also moved. He hadn't expected Mochizuki Ryo's demands on them to be so outrageous.

But as the captain of Hyotei, he had to take the lead and couldn't show weakness.

He snapped his fingers, his voice steady.

"I can do it."

With the minister taking the lead, even if others felt it was excessive, they could only grit their teeth and agree.

Wang Yueling nodded in satisfaction, preparing to give the order to begin training. He subconsciously raised his voice, trying to make it more powerful, but as soon as he spoke, his throat tightened and his voice cracked.

A hoarse, piercing breathy sound exploded out, like Donald Duck quacking.

"Everyone... begin! Don't waste time!"

The entire room fell silent.

one second.

two seconds.

Everyone was looking at him.

Wang Yueling herself froze.

Then someone laughed. A first-grader couldn't help but chuckle and quickly covered his mouth. But it was too late; the laughter spread like a contagious disease. Some covered their mouths, some lowered their heads, and some turned away, their shoulders shaking.

The regulars are even more outrageous.

Shinobu turned his face away, his glasses almost askew from laughing. Mukahi covered his mouth, his face turning bright red. Hiyoshi turned his face away, his ears burning red. Jiro buried his head in his arms, trembling all over. Kabaji stood there, stunned, unsure how to react.

Atobe stood to the side, glanced at him, and smiled slightly before quickly closing his mouth again.

Wang Yueling stood still, the veins on his forehead throbbing faintly.

A feeling of shame shot from the soles of my feet to the top of my head.

He gritted his teeth and, with his hoarse, cracked voice, uttered the harshest words.

"Laugh again." His breath was icy, his eyes terrifying. "Everyone, triple the training."

In short, the effect was immediate.

The next second, everyone rushed to their respective courts like madmen, retrieving balls, swinging rackets, warming up—their movements were so fast they were practically blurry. The fear instilled by yesterday's insults was still ingrained in their bones; no one dared to truly anger this "Hell King."

The regulars ran the fastest, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Everyone was moving – swinging rackets, running, doing physical training – no one was slacking off or dawdling.

Wang Yueling stood in the center of the field, the little duck headband on his forehead swaying gently with his movements. He took a deep breath, suppressing the embarrassment in his heart.

If your aloof image is shattered, so be it; just be a little sharp-tongued.

He stood in the middle of the field, looking at the bustling scene before him, and felt a surge of emotion.

In his past life, when he practiced alone, it was always very quiet around him. When the coach wasn't there, he was the only one on the court. The ball would hit the wall, bounce back, he would catch it, hit it again, and it would bounce again.

For a fleeting moment, he really wanted a teammate, someone to practice with.

He now has more than two hundred.

He chuckled softly, then turned and began his inspection.

In the third-grade field, the regular players are doing specialized training.

Atobe practiced his serves at the baseline, one after another, his movements textbook perfect. But Mochizuki Ryo noticed the problem after a while: his serve placement was too conservative, inaccurate, and he dared not push the limits.

"Atobe".

"The landing angle was off by 10 to 15 centimeters." He crossed his arms and spoke calmly, "You can't play fancy football. If you keep giving away points like this, your opponents will become obsessed with your mistakes."

Atobe paused, his icy blue eyes darkening slightly. He stopped and turned to look at him.

"I know. But keeping the error within five centimeters will take time."

"Then practice. A week is enough."

Atobe glanced at him, said nothing more, picked up the ball and continued practicing.

The next ball landed three centimeters close to the sideline. The next one landed two centimeters closer.

Seeing that he had taken it to heart, Wang Yueling stopped talking and turned to walk to another area.

Shinobu and Mukahi practiced doubles coordination.

Shinobu controlled the ball in the backcourt, while Mukahi looked for opportunities at the net. The two had been playing together for two years and had developed a good understanding, but the problem was also obvious: Mukahi's stamina couldn't last long, and he started panting after less than ten minutes.

"Heavenly Sun," Mochizuki Ryou called out in a deep voice from the sidelines.

Xiang Ri stopped, bent over, and panted.

"You jumped too early with that net volley. Wait until the ball has passed its highest point before jumping."

Xiang Ri straightened up and wiped his sweat. "But it fell so fast."

"That's why you have to wait. You jumped too early; the ball hadn't even arrived before you landed. What were you even trying to intercept then?"

Xiang Ri thought for a moment, nodded, and replied, "Understood."

Shinobu glanced at Mochizuki Ryo, smiling as if he wanted to say something.

"Stop laughing it off." Wang Yueling squatted down, picked up the ball, and weighed it in her hand. Her eyes were sharp. "Your shot just now was so erratic, like you hadn't eaten. You've been hiding your secret move for so long, and this is all you've got? If you can't improve it, don't use it. It's embarrassing."

Shinobu pushed up his glasses, his nonchalant expression vanished, and his look became serious.

"……I see."

He gritted his teeth and swung his racket again, adjusting the power and angle repeatedly.

Wang Yueling didn't say anything more and turned to leave.

When they reached the third court, Shishido and Ootori were practicing together.

Shishido is indeed fast, and his footwork is more stable than before. However, his backhand position still has problems; every time the ball lands on the backhand sideline, he has to take an extra step to reach it.

"Shishido".

Shishido stopped.

"Your footwork in the backhand position." Wang Yueling squatted down, drew lines on the ground, and then gave instructions, "Running diagonally will save you a step."

Shishido looked down at the line and nodded.

"Try it once."

Shishido retreated to the baseline, and Feng served a backhand sideline ball. Shishido ran out diagonally, a little faster than before, and although he still didn't catch it, at least he touched the ball.

"Yes. With a week of practice, you'll be able to catch the ball."

Shishido, panting heavily, nodded.

Mochizuki Ryou stood up, looked at the two of them, thought for a moment, and then said, "Shishido, Ootori."

"Have you two ever considered playing doubles?"

Shishido and Ootori were momentarily stunned by his question.

"You two have good teamwork and are evenly matched. Shishido is fast and has a wide defensive range. Chotaro, your serve is strong and you're quick at the net. The two of you playing doubles complement each other perfectly."

Shishido lowered his head and pondered for a while. He knew that since Mochizuki Ryo had spoken up, it meant that he had planned this all along and that it was the best choice for them.

"I'll think about it."

"Okay, no rush." ​​Wang Yueling glanced at the two deep in thought and believed that they would eventually make the best choice. He had only provided them with a way of thinking.

"I'll let you play in singles too; you won't be stuck with just one position. Think it over carefully."

Shishido and Ootori watched his departing figure, their eyes hardening. They exchanged a glance and continued their training.

Cilang was quite serious, but he couldn't last twenty minutes. His head started to nod, and sleepiness washed over him again. He almost fell asleep standing there.

Wang Yueling quietly walked behind him and tapped his racket hanging at his side.

"Dare to sleep there. Your room will be missing a rare Marui photo tonight..."

Jiro instantly snapped to attention, his eyes widening like a lamb whose tail had been stepped on. He immediately perked up and lunged at the net to practice his volleys, not daring to slack off for even a second.

We walked to the first-grade area.

A dozen or so children were practicing their racket swings, their movements were crooked and awkward. Some had their wrists not straight, some had their center of gravity too high, and some even had the wrong grip.

He saw the boy who was the first to ask him to be his current coach yesterday.

Ryohei Koizumi.

He's not tall and is thin, but his movements are very clean. His swing, footwork, and hitting are all much more solid than his peers.

Wang Yueling stood on the sidelines for a while, then walked over.

"Koizumi."

Koizumi stopped, turned to look at him, and seemed a little nervous.

"How long have you been playing?"

"Two...two years." Koizumi stared straight at him, her voice trembling slightly.

"Not bad for two years." Mochizuki Ryo nodded with a smile, gently pointing out the same problem he had with Shishido, "But your footwork on the backhand side is problematic. Every time you hit a backhand shot, you have to take an extra step."

Koizumi looked down at his feet.

"Look," Wang Yueling squatted down and drew a line on the ground with her finger, "You're running in a straight line right now, but given your height, you won't make it in time. You should run diagonally to save that step's time."

Koizumi looked carefully at the line on the ground and nodded.

"Try it once."

Koizumi retreated to the baseline, and another teammate served a backhand ball. Koizumi ran out diagonally, and as expected, he was a little faster than before, successfully receiving the ball.

"Not bad." Wang Yueling was pleased with his comprehension, her voice filled with obvious praise. "With more practice, you will improve."

"Yes!" Koizumi's voice was much louder.

This child has a good foundation and can be given special attention. After Hiyoshi Waka, Hyotei needs a fresh blood supply.

Wang Yueling watched a few more first-year students, corrected their grip, adjusted their stance, and repeated several times, "lower your center of gravity," "don't shrug your shoulders," and "relax your wrists."

His voice was terribly hoarse; every word he spoke felt like his throat had been rubbed with sandpaper.

But there's no way to keep quiet.

As Wang Yueling walked along, he pointed out any problems he saw, whether they were regulars, semi-regulars, or non-regulars, without any mercy.

With the most polite demeanor, he speaks the most hurtful words, so sharp-tongued that it makes people feel depressed, yet you can't find a single fault with him.

Everyone knew that he genuinely wanted them to become stronger.

Wang Yueling walked to the sidelines, picked up her thermos, and took a big gulp of pear soup. The warm liquid soothed her throat and made her feel a little better.

Atobe walked over at some point and stood next to him, arms crossed.

"What's wrong with your throat today?" Atobe turned to look at him, his tone clearly showing concern. "It was fine yesterday."

Wang Yueling screwed the lid on the thermos, glanced at him, and said, "I was cursing you guys yesterday."

Atobe's lips twitched. "You're quite honest."

"Just telling the truth." Wang Yueling put the thermos back in her bag and glanced at the crowd on the court. "My voice is hoarse, but I still have to scold them."

Atobe looked at him, remained silent for two seconds, and then shifted his gaze back to his forehead.

"How long do you plan to wear this headband?"

"One day." Wang Yueling touched her hair helplessly. "It was made by my grandmother, so I can't not wear it."

After Atobe learned the reason, he glanced at the little yellow duck again, smiled, and sincerely praised it.

"It's quite gorgeous."

Wang Yueling ignored him.

He knew Atobe was laughing at him again, but it didn't matter; his grandmother's feelings were more important than saving face. Besides, to be honest, the little duck was actually quite cute after looking at it for a while.

He turned around and looked at the boys sweating profusely on the court.

The sun had fully risen, shining on everyone and gilding their silhouettes with gold. Of the more than two hundred people, not one was slacking off, not one was giving up. Some were practicing serves, some were practicing volleys, some were doing physical training, and some were feeding each other balls.

Sweat streamed down their faces, soaking their workout clothes, but no one stopped.

Wang Yueling stood on the sidelines, watching all of this, and a feeling she couldn't quite describe welled up inside her.

His past life experiences made him understand.

Fame may fade, honors may be forgotten, but only the sweat underfoot, genuine growth, and the bonds between hearts are eternal.

He scolded harshly yesterday and practiced fiercely today, not to make things difficult for anyone.

It's because he has seen the peak and also fallen into the trough, and knows how to truly stand up again.

……

In the tennis club coach's room, Taro Sakaki stood by the window, holding a cup of coffee.

He looked at Wang Yueling standing on the sidelines. He was talking to a second-year student, bending over and guiding the other student's grip with a serious and patient expression.

Sakaki Taro's lips curled up slightly.

I took a sip of coffee, the bitterness spreading in my mouth. The training outside the window continued; the shouts of the boys drifted in through the glass, muffled but palpable, yet the intense atmosphere was palpable.

Sakaki Taro put down his cup, turned around, and walked back to his desk.

On the table was a document, a revised version of the training plan that Wang Yueling had sent him the night before. He flipped through a few pages, made some annotations, then closed it and put it aside.

Another shout came from outside the window.

He turned his head and saw that it was Jiro chasing after Mochizuki Ryo, demanding a "reduction in training." Mochizuki Ryo ignored him and walked straight ahead, with Jiro chasing after him, shouting, "Ryo, you can't do this to me."

Sakaki Taro shook his head.

These children have finally found the path they should take.

The sunlight slowly moved from the east towards the center, enveloping Hyotei Academy in a vibrant and bright atmosphere, full of vitality.

A new day has just begun.