Table tennis: Swinging the racket billions of times, achieving a grand slam

Chapter 388 I hope their voices are alright.
"Wow—"

"Wang Chuqin! Wang Chuqin! Wang Chuqin..."

As soon as Wang Chuqin scored with his serve, the fans in the stadium erupted in deafening cheers and screams.

Pressure surged towards Xie Mingyang once again.

"Whoo~"

Xie Mingyang let out a heavy sigh.

There was no regret, no anger.

I walked to the serve position and wiped my sweaty palms.

It was Xie Mingyang's turn to serve.

The forehand is short.

Do not forward.

Wang Chuqin wanted to exploit the weakness of Xie Mingyang by limiting his initiative within the control panel.

However, the return shot landed halfway out of bounds.

A cold glint flashed in Xie Mingyang's eyes, and he reacted extremely quickly, stepping forward with his right leg.

Push off the ground and twist your waist.

His arm lashed out like a whip.

All the strength in the body is concentrated and unleashed.

"Snapped!"

Forehand attack.

Upon witnessing Xie Mingyang's swing, Wang Chuqin assumed that Xie Mingyang was about to rush down the diagonal line.

They quickly returned to their defensive backhand position.

Unexpectedly, Xie Mingyang flicked his wrist and charged straight ahead.

Wang Chuqin was caught off guard.

11: 11.

"Boiled!"

The long-suppressed roar finally burst forth from Xie Mingyang's throat, carrying a hoarse, cathartic quality.

He clenched his fist and swung it downwards with force, his eyes sharp as knives.

The game continues, and the suspense remains.

Wang Chuqin stood on the right side of the table, raised his right arm, and gently tossed the ball.

With his shoulders leaning forward, his body became like a moving wall, completely blocking Xie Mingyang's view of the serving motion once again.

"Again?"

Before Wang Chuqin could serve the ball.

Xie Mingyang stood up straight and raised his right hand.

The actions were decisive and resolute.

This action came out of nowhere.

The entire audience was stunned.

All eyes were focused on Xie Mingyang.

Even the referee asked about the situation.

"Covering the serve."

Xie Mingyang stepped forward and said to the referee, "I can't see it at all."

the other side.

Wang Chuqin held the ball, his face expressionless.

He knew perfectly well what had happened with that serve.

The momentary head movement and arm position are indeed controversial, existing in a gray area that skirts the edge of the rules.

In countless past matches, this tactic has proven effective time and again, with opponents often choosing to remain silent due to his imposing presence or the referee's discretion.

How dare this sixteen-year-old newcomer interrupt and complain about his serve in such a crucial way at such a critical moment?
Wang Chuqin turned his head and coldly swept his gaze over Xie Mingyang.

"You're so dirty, Xie Mingyang. You resort to this kind of trick when you can't beat someone?"

"Damn, how despicable!"

"A sore loser!"

Curses erupted from the audience.

Like a poisoned arrow, it was shot towards the calm young man in the arena.

The TZMs are outraged.

Several agitated young women in the front row even stood up, took out their phones, pointed them at Xie Mingyang, and started recording and cursing him.

"You despicable scoundrel, you're so filthy, I'm going to expose you online!"

Xie Mingyang stood on his half of the platform, his back straight, like a sturdy pine tree rooted in a strong wind.

The vicious curses rained down on him like hail, but he didn't even flinch.

His calm gaze swept over the noisy crowd and the unfriendly-looking Wang Chuqin, landing directly on the referee.

His eyes were calm and composed, devoid of anger or resentment, revealing only an almost cold adherence to the rules.

Since the Asian Cup does not have a Hawk-Eye Challenge, live replays are not possible.

However, since someone has complained, the referee cannot ignore it.

He immediately signaled to Wang Chuqin to serve again.

They didn't even get a single yellow card.

"No block."

The referee reminded them, "Service again."

Wang Chuqin's facial muscles twitched almost imperceptibly, and a shadow of gloom flashed across his eyes.

But he quickly adjusted his expression, putting on a helpless and innocent look, shrugging at the referee, and nodding: "OK."

The game continues.

Wang Chuqin switched to serving with his forehand.

Side-up.

Slightly to the right of the middle.

The instant Wang Chuqin released the ball, Xie Mingyang, like a cheetah smelling blood, had already begun his attack.

Step forward, and precisely position your right foot.

Lower your shoulders and raise your elbows.

Wrist tucked inward.

All the explosive power in the body is then concentrated on a single point on the racket.

"laugh!"

The white lightning reappeared.

But this time, the angle was more tricky and the speed was more ferocious.

Like a flying sword, it pierced through the most extreme blind spot on Wang Chuqin's backhand sideline.

Wang Chuqin's body weight remained in a slightly backward leaning position after serving.

When he looked up, he saw a bizarre and exaggerated C-shaped arc, carrying the aura of death and an overwhelming, god-slaying momentum, flying towards him.

Another tyrant's twist!
Wang Chuqin only managed to move his feet symbolically, his racket swinging futilely in the air.

"boom!"

The ball lands on the table.

It was as crisp as a slap in the face.

12: 11.

Xie Mingyang has reached match point.

On the electronic scoreboard, the scarlet "12:11" was like a red-hot branding iron, burning onto everyone's retinas.

The previously deafening curses and boos were suddenly extinguished as if by an invisible hand gripping their throats.

The pressure returned to Wang Chuqin.

Xie Mingyang bent down.

The entire stadium fell into a near-vacuum of silence.

Countless eyes were fixed on the two figures on the field, trying to detect the slightest tremor.

in the audience.

Someone unconsciously gripped the hem of their clothes tightly, their knuckles turning white from the force.

Some people had their mouths open, as if they had forgotten how to close them, their eyes filled with tension.

Some people instinctively clutched their chests, as if their hearts were about to break free from the confines of their chests.

Time stretched out indefinitely, each second feeling like an eternity.

"Whoo~"

Xie Mingyang took a deep breath.

With each inhale, the breath sinks into the dantian, suppressing the turbulent waves surging in the heart.

His eyes were sharp and cold, like tempered iron. All distracting thoughts were completely eliminated.

At this moment, his world consisted only of the white ball in his hand, the table in front of him, and his opponent.

Wang Chuqin's nerves were already stretched to the limit.

He never expected that at such a crucial moment, Xie Mingyang would overtake him and give his opponent match point.

"We need to keep an eye on Xie Mingyang's stealth growth."

Wang Chuqin clearly felt a bead of sweat slide down his forehead.

But he didn't have time to reach out and wipe it.

Because Xie Mingyang has already started serving.

The ball was tossed to just the right height, and the movement was simple, smooth, and without a trace of fancy.

Gently flick your wrist and rub the bottom.

"Backspin!"

Wang Chuqin stepped forward.

Shorten it?

Split long?

Or should we twist or pull?

The wrist seemed to hesitate for a fraction of a second before touching the ball.

Ultimately, Wang Chuqin subconsciously chose the most stable and conservative approach: shorting the ball.

"laugh!"

The moment the ball is touched.

Wang Chuqin's expression suddenly changed drastically.

A half-high ball appears on the opponent's table.

"Chance!"

That's enough to seal the deal!
The coldness in Xie Mingyang's eyes suddenly flared up into a raging inferno.

Without the slightest hesitation, his body, like a fully charged spring, burst forth with a roar.

He leaped into the air and unleashed a powerful forehand flick.

"Snapped!"

The explosion was like a thunderclap.

The ping-pong ball was squeezed almost deformed the moment it made contact with the racket, and then turned into a blur that was almost impossible to see with the naked eye. With a terrifying shriek that tore through the air, it struck Wang Chuqin's backhand with overwhelming force.

This move embodies all of Xie Mingyang's strength.

fast!
quasi!
ruthless!
Wang Chuqin was so struck by this powerful upward thrust that he instinctively staggered to the left and back.

It's completely instinctive.

With his honed skills and exceptional anticipation, he quickly pulled his forearm and wrist forward despite being off-balance.

"Snapped!"

A spectacular fast-paced turnaround.

He miraculously blocked the ball back.

The trajectory was tricky, heading straight for Xie Mingyang's forehand at a wide angle.

"Wow—"

The cheers in the stands had not yet subsided.

It's too late to say.

After Xie Mingyang unleashed his powerful strike, he didn't pause; his center of gravity shifted instantly, returning to its original position as smoothly as flowing water.

With a cross step, he lunges forward to the right.

He faced the rapidly approaching white light with his arm and decisively pulled back.

"Break!"

The ball speed suddenly increased again, and the landing point became even more unpredictable.

Wang Chuqin had barely managed to regain his balance when Xie Mingyang's counter-pull was already upon him.

Almost reflexively, he tried to sidestep and create space, attempting a counter-attack with a forehand topspin.

However, the speed is slightly slower.

It was not aligned with the target.

The racket swung through the air, carrying a desperate sound.

13: 11.

The score is 4-3.

After a grueling seven-game match, Xie Mingyang defeated Wang Chuqin to advance to the Asian Cup final.

Time seems to have frozen.

next second.

Like a flood that had reached its limit and burst through a dam, the entire stadium erupted with a sound like a landslide and a tsunami.

It wasn't just a simple cheer.

Instead, it was a mixture of shock, disbelief, and hissing gasps.

"It was actually... Xie Mingyang who won?"

"Wang Chuqin pulled off another upset?"

"Oh my God, am I dreaming?"

Wang Chuqin's fans are now completely silent.

Some people covered their faces, while others stared blankly at the field, their faces filled with bewilderment, shock, and disbelief.

Won!

Xie Mingyang clenched his fist.

The lights were bright and dizzying.

It took a while before I gradually got used to it.

Even he himself did not expect that he would make it all the way to the final of this Asian Cup.

"Whoo~"

Letting out a long breath, Xie Mingyang tried his best to calm his surging emotions.

He stepped forward and extended his hand to Wang Chuqin.

Wang Chuqin's eyes were extremely complex.

After hesitating for half a second, she finally reached out and gently touched Xie Mingyang's hand.

Immediately, it was pulled back as if it were something too hot to handle.

He lowered his head, not glancing at Xie Mingyang again, and quickly walked to the sidelines with his racket and towel.

His back view was both stern and forlorn.

"Big Head, you're alright!"

"Wang Chuqin, you're the best!"

Even the voices of his fans could not console him at this moment.

On-site interview, all preparations complete.

Xie Mingyang stood in the center of the field, his chest heaving violently, his jersey soaked with sweat and clinging tightly to his body.

The host, with a smile on his face, was about to speak.

At this moment.

"Xie Mingyang, you're so dirty!"

A woman's voice suddenly rang out, breaking the silence of the scene, "Deliberately manipulating the mind, using despicable methods, winning unfairly."

A stone stirred up a thousand waves.

More sharp curses, filled with anger and resentment, came from the corners of the audience.

"Trashy rookie, playing so dirty, did your whole family die?"

"Give me back my Big Head Champion!"

"Xie Mingyang, your mother is truly filthy!"

……

The curses grew louder and louder, like a tidal wave, almost drowning people out.

The host also looked helpless and somewhat worried as he looked at the boy in front of him.

It's hard to imagine how a fifteen or sixteen-year-old boy could withstand such insults and pressure.
"Cough cough cough..."

The host quickly spoke up, "Xie Mingyang, congratulations on winning this match and advancing to the finals. Do you have anything to say?"

Xie Mingyang slowly raised his head, his gaze sweeping over the noisy, cursing stands, his eyes as cold as ice.

There was no anger, no loss of reason, only calm.

He slightly raised his chin, facing the noisiest direction, and slowly spoke, each word distinct and deliberate.

"I hope their voices are okay."

(End of this chapter)