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

Wang Yueling nodded in satisfaction and placed the empty bottle aside.

He looked up towards Rikkai University, just in time to meet Yukimura's gaze. Yukimura nodded slightly to him, his fingertip gently pointing to the cat carrier, indicating that Luna had just woken up once and was asleep again.

Wang Yueling's eyes curved into a smile, and the anger in her heart dissipated a little.

Fortunately, Seiichi doesn't have to suffer this hardship.

Rikkai is a long-established tennis powerhouse with a comprehensive medical system. Although Sanada is old-fashioned, he would never let his players play through injuries. If that old-fashioned Sanada dares to follow Tezuka's example, I'll have Seiichi punish him with an extra thousand laps of training. If all else fails, I'll just have to put him in a sack and beat him up a few more times in the middle of the night; Seiichi will definitely protect me anyway.

Hmm... After you finish fighting, you can see Seishi...

Thinking about it, it's actually quite profitable.

He touched his chin, a fleeting, childish thought popped into his head, but he quickly suppressed it.

-

The game on the field continues.

After Atobe finished speaking, he saw Tezuka's shoulder stiffen almost imperceptibly.

He then merely adjusted his glasses, a glint of light flashing in the lenses, and tossed out a "None of your business. Continue the game," before walking back to the baseline.

His voice was calm, devoid of any emotion, as if Atobe were merely talking about trivial matters.

Atobe, seeing his calm demeanor, couldn't help but laugh. Then he heard the increasingly heated discussion from the sidelines; Oishi's words were quite loud.

He glanced at Tezuka across from him with a mocking look; the other man clearly had no intention of admitting to the condition of his arm.

It's okay if you don't admit it.

On the field, performance speaks for itself. Too much talk makes things dull.

"Is that so? My judgment is never wrong..."

He muttered a word, tossed the ball, bent his knees, and swung his racket. The serve remained fierce, with each serve having more spin and a wider range of movement.

Every ball was smashed into the backhand corner without mercy.

Since you dared to play with an injury, then show the corresponding strength.

Tezuka gritted his teeth and endured it.

The stinging pain in his left arm became more and more pronounced; each swing of the racket felt like needles pricking his elbow. His movements became slower and slower, and his mistakes began to increase.

I'm hesitant to use the Zero-Style Short Ball anymore. I tried hitting it just now, but Atobe returned it with ease, and I ended up losing the point.

Tezuka's zone was becoming increasingly difficult to maintain. He couldn't get enough spin, and the ball was often misdirected, requiring him to dive and cover for the ball. This actually put more strain on his arms.

Vicious circle.

Fortunately, after a few balls, Tezuka gradually adapted to the rhythm of his serve and was able to receive the ball, but the quality of his returns was consistently low, either too high or too low, frequently giving Atobe opportunities to go to the net.

An attempt to restart the domain.

But Atobe doesn't bother with baseline play at all. He either serves directly to score or comes to the net to volley after just two or three shots, his pace is so fast that it's impossible to keep up.

The territory had just begun to take shape when it was shattered by a powerful slam.

比分从15-0，到30-15，再到40-30。

Cheers erupted instantly from the Seigaku stands.

"Well done, Minister!"

"I knew Tezuka-senpai could do it!"

"All those old injuries are fake! Atobe's psychological warfare won't work!" Momoshiro waved his support flag, his face turning red. Kikumaru jumped high, his curly hair a complete mess.

Oishi breathed a sigh of relief, a genuine smile appearing on his face. "I knew it, Tezuka's injury had healed long ago."

Fuji stood to the side, saying nothing. He could see that Tezuka's left hand, which was holding the racket, was trembling slightly after he won the point.

The win was too close.

Every point is a struggle against the strain on my elbows; at this rate, I can't hold on for long.

Atobe stood behind the baseline and gently tapped the ground with his racket.

I wasn't angry, nor did I panic.

It's just a few points lost.

Tezuka Zone, Zero-style short ball, plus baseline rallies.

We've used up our three tricks; that's all we have left.

He looked up at Tezuka across from him, a knowing smile playing on his lips.

Next, it's time to close the net.

In the last two balls, Atobe played with rock-solid stability. Instead of relying solely on Tannhäuser to score, he deliberately changed the spin and angle of the ball, sometimes inside, sometimes outside, sometimes with strong sidespin, sometimes with heavy backspin, disrupting Tezuka's territory.

Tezuka's running range was expanding, and his ability to draw defenders into his area of ​​effect was becoming increasingly inconsistent, clearly indicating that he was starting to lose control. However, faced with this crucial point in the game, Tezuka had no choice but to move to the net and grit his teeth to hit a short shot.

He put more force into the shot, and a sharp pain shot through his wrist. He frowned but didn't say anything.

The ball has just flown over the net.

Atobe was already standing at the landing point, waiting. He didn't even bend down; he just lightly flicked the ball with his racket face, and it grazed the net and landed back in the opponent's court, bouncing once before stopping.

"Game, Hyotei. 4-1."

Once the referee announced the score, the situation on the field became clear.

No one expected that the highly anticipated duel between the two teams would turn out to be a one-sided affair.

The cheers from the Seigaku stands were almost silent, and many people looked dejected.

The halftime whistle blew immediately afterward.

As Atobe walked back to the coach's bench, sweat dripped down his chin, soaking the back of his uniform. He took the towel from Mochizuki Ryo, wiped his face, and sat down in the chair, his breathing slightly rapid, but he still kept his back straight.

"How are you feeling? Are your arms sore?" Wang Yueling handed over another sports drink and asked with concern.

Atobe had just taken a sip of his drink when he heard this and almost choked. He glared at him, his icy blue eyes still holding the sharpness of the arena.

"I'm not so weak that my hands get sore after playing five games."

"That's good." Wang Yueling smiled, bent down, and gently tapped his knee with her fingertip. "In the next game, pay attention: the axis of rotation for Tezuka's domain is internal spin. When you return the ball, add 10% sidespin to the spin and pull the angle outward by 30 degrees. Break his guidance directly from the source. The spin of his domain can't hold up anymore; it can only last for one more game at most."

"Also, when you go to the net, shift your body weight a little deeper into the backhand position. Don't worry about the zero-spin short ball; he can't hit a standard spin ball right now. Just go to the net half a step earlier."

"Ah, I know without you telling me." Atobe said this, but he still quickly went through the angle of the serve in his mind and silently adjusted his tactics.

The adjustments that Mochizuki Ryo mentioned were similar to what he had thought of, only more precise.

"I know, sir, you know this is my first time being a coach, so you have to give me a chance to show my abilities, right?"

After boasting for a while, Wang Yueling raised her hand and gently tapped her elbow, her tone slightly teasing, "Also, Minister, if you see your opponent is injured later, don't suddenly go easy on them. They have no intention of appreciating your kindness, and if they win, they'll say you won unfairly."

Atobe paused in his drink, nearly spitting it out unceremoniously. His eyebrows shot up, his eyes filled with displeasure. "What nonsense are you spouting, Mochizuki Ryo? Do you think I'm that kind of person?"

"Who knows?" Mochizuki Ryou shrugged, smiling innocently. "After all, someone is known for being stubborn but soft-hearted, and like Sanada, he's all about kingly manners. What if he thinks bullying the wounded isn't glamorous..."

"Shut up." Atobe interrupted him irritably, the tips of his ears turning slightly red, whether from anger or heat, it was hard to tell. "In the arena, everyone relies on their own ability. It was his choice to play despite his injury. Why should I let him win?"

He paused, then added, his tone even colder, "Besides, I haven't finished settling scores with him yet for deliberately avoiding a fight."

"Oh, old man, you're still not over your anger?" Wang Yueling laughed, his shoulders shaking.

Atobe snorted and turned his face away to drink his beverage, but the tips of his ears turned bright red.

He's not holding a grudge.

I just feel that Tezuka's actions were very disrespectful to him.

Two seconds later, he turned his head again, looked at Mochizuki Ryo, and said in a threatening tone, "If you keep talking nonsense, after the match, I'll tell Yukimura that you secretly put his drawing under the lunchbox yesterday and got it stained with oil... The evidence is hidden in your tennis bag."

Wang Yueling's smile froze instantly. She immediately moved closer and raised her hands high, begging for mercy.

"No, Keigo! I was wrong, okay? How could you, the emperor of Hyotei, tattle on someone? That's so ungentlemanly."

"Now you're scared? Too late." Atobe snorted, but the corners of his mouth involuntarily turned up slightly. After saying that, he turned his head back to continue drinking his beverage, a smug look emanating from the back of his head.

Wang Yueling rolled her eyes inwardly.

childish.

He'll use the money to pressure me; he won't actually scold me. At most, he'll glare at me and pinch my flesh a few times.

However... the effect is indeed good.

"No, no, no. Minister is the most fair and impartial person, he would never go easy on you." Mochizuki Ryo put on her dramatic act and begged for mercy, her tone half-serious and half-joking, "After the competition, I'll treat you to that newly opened French restaurant. I heard the head chef used to be a royal pastry chef, and his macarons and canelés are delicious."

Atobe brushed a stray strand of sweat from his forehead, his tone incredibly arrogant, "Ah, well, I might consider it."

"Thank you for your magnanimity, Minister." Wang Yueling followed up on his words, then added, "But take it easy, don't jump like crazy just to spike. You need to save your knees for the national tournament."

He was telling the truth.

Although Atobe's knees did not have any old injuries, prolonged high-intensity jumping and spiking could easily cause overuse injuries.

Atobe put down his drink bottle, picked up his racket, and gently twirled it around.

"Too verbose."

As the two chatted and laughed, Mochizuki Ryo's gaze swept over Atobe's right arm, and her eyes softened a little.

This kid has been training too hard lately.

He practices serving until the lights go out every day, and his wrists are a bit strained. Fortunately, the "Star Chaser" team is watching over him, doing relaxation and physical therapy every day, and adjusting the training plan as needed, otherwise I'm really afraid he'll develop health problems from overwork.

In competitive sports, giving your all is expected. But sacrificing your health is not worth it.

My thoughts drifted away, and I recalled that absurd ending from the original story.

Bah! Get as far away as you can.