Who would still play tennis after being reborn?

Chapter 155 The Shock to the World (Revised)
"China Central Television! This is broadcasting live the first round of the Australian Open doubles."

"As you can see, in the second set, after being dominated by Benneteau and Roger for most of the match, Gu Cheng hit an amazing return shot!!"

"wow—"

"That's amazing! That was an incredible goal!"

"Gu Cheng, at a crucial moment, brought out an unprecedented local specialty, a tennis technique that has never appeared in The Prince of Tennis. It is similar to Tezuka Kunimitsu's Zero-Shiki Chop, but... this return shot is even stronger than the Zero-Shiki Chop."

"After the ball crossed the net, it dropped straight down and then bounced in the opposite direction, giving Benneteau and Roger no time to react at all."

"My God! Gu Cheng actually held back in a match like this! He actually dared to hold back!"

Commentator Hu Li shouted excitedly, beating his chest and stamping his feet, as if he himself was the one sounding the horn of counterattack, not Gu Cheng.

"But...we can foresee that such a return shot is enough to completely change the course of this game."

"Beneteu and Roger are in trouble."

"They had a chance to win the second set, but that glimmer of hope seems to have been shattered by this return shot."

……

Online, people are also going crazy over this ultimate counterattack, the "reverse cut."

From his initial triple spin serve to his current reverse cut, Gu Cheng has been demonstrating to everyone that he is not in trouble; he simply doesn't want to reveal too much in a match like this.

He held back, as his opponents were not the No. 2 seeds in doubles, Benneteau and Roger, but someone else.

Meanwhile, the boos directed at the second seed grew louder and louder.

The piercing sound was like countless fine needles, stabbing into Benneteau's eardrums and penetrating his already exhausted nerves.

He stood at the baseline, head slightly bowed, sweat dripping from his hair, forming a small, dark puddle at his feet. The world seemed to consist only of the suffocating hisses and the groans emanating from within his body, like an old machine about to fall apart.

The atmosphere of defeat was so thick it was impossible to shake off.

Everything is clear.

Gu Cheng's initial struggles were all an illusion.

He and Roger seemed to have the advantage in the second set, and seemed to be pressing Gu Cheng all the time, and were even close to winning the second set. But in reality, Gu Cheng was not using his full strength. He had been hiding his strength all along.

Or rather, Gu Cheng... this little boy who was only sixteen years old never regarded them as real opponents from beginning to end.

The reason I didn't use the triple spin serve from the start, or the so-called ultimate return, the reverse slice, was not because I couldn't, but because I didn't want to and wanted to conserve my strength.

Or perhaps they simply didn't want to be exposed.

"Roger, we...we've been underestimated!"

"Yes, we were underestimated."

Roger remained silent for a moment, then gave a wry smile.

They were looked down upon, but they didn't show any anger.

There's no way I can be angry.

They are indeed strong.

Even without going all out, Gu Cheng could go toe-to-toe with the second-seeded doubles players with just his serve. If the game went to a tiebreak, Gu Cheng, with his triple-spin serve, might even be able to win the second set.

But Gu Cheng did not.

Or rather, they didn't want the match to go to a tiebreaker.

"He may just not want to expend too much energy, or perhaps his physical strength has already reached its limit, and he has to use his skills to end the game as quickly as possible."

"He wants a quick victory, so we can't let him succeed. We should at least stall for a while and give the newcomer a chance."

"Then it's settled."

"Beneteu, faster, as fast as possible."

"I know that even if I have to play my absolute worst, I will force the game into a tiebreaker."

"You can only return that ball before it hits the ground!"

"And his serve isn't as powerful as it used to be, which is also an opportunity for us."

"you will not……"

Bennetteau shook his head: "I didn't want to win. He can hit a serve that isn't from The Prince of Tennis, so it's possible he's mastered other skills. Even if his triple spin serve is less powerful due to exhaustion, he might come up with a new serve."

"And that's what we need to do: even if we lose, we need to force him to give us more."

"At the very least, we have forced him to use two ball skills that he had never used before."

"For us, this is success."

"Then it's settled!"

"Of course!"

"30-15!!"

The referee seemed to finally regain his composure from the shock, and with a slight tremor, he raised his hand and pointed towards Gu Cheng's half of the field.

"Point, Gu!" The voice rang out clearly through the microphone in the still-boiling stadium.

The scoreboard is ticking.

Having executed one of his ultimate counterattacks, Gu Cheng gradually gained control of the game. Benneteau and Roger, who were originally full of vigor and ready to launch a counterattack, suddenly fell silent and struggled to hold on.

Whether serving or returning the ball, both players have to use all their strength to return it. Even though their defensive range is relatively large, they still run all over the court.

No one expected that when making a diagonal cut against the enemy's scales, the fall would still be vertical.

This made the already somewhat desperate two even more exhausted.

The competition is brutal.

In the tenth inning, under immense pressure, exhausted, and amidst the pervasive negativity in the stands, Benneteau and Roger's resistance was like a candle flickering in the wind.

Both players' returns and even serves were becoming increasingly less powerful, their movement was becoming sluggish, and their reactions were a beat slower. Gu Cheng, on the other hand, played steadily and meticulously, executing his attrition tactics with precision, patiently waiting for his opponents to break down on their own.

The score was quickly widened.

A glint flashed in Gu Cheng's eyes. Without hesitation, he turned to the side and lashed out with his forehand like a whip, launching an extremely violent attack on the serve, aiming at the huge gap left by Roger's serve!
"Boom-bang!"

The yellow light and shadow instantly pierced through the stadium, slamming heavily onto the advertising board behind Roger, producing a dull echo.

"15-0!" The referee reported the score.

A few scattered claps rang out from the stands, but more often there were impatient sighs and louder boos. To everyone, the game had entered garbage time.

Bennetteau felt waves of dizziness wash over him.

"Beneteu, what's wrong?"

"Are you OK?"

Roger looked at his teammates with concern and was about to step forward when Benneteau stopped him: "Roger, I'm fine, let's continue the game!"

He shook his head violently, trying to dispel the darkness before his eyes. Every cell in his body was screaming for surrender, and reason repeatedly urged him: Enough, you've reached your limit, give up, end this suffering.

However, just as he was on the verge of collapse, a more primal and violent emotion, like subterranean fire suppressed for millions of years, suddenly broke through all the shackles of exhaustion, despair and reason in his consciousness and erupted violently!
Not reconciled!
Why? !

Why should it be completely destroyed in this place under the spotlight, like a rag doll that has been carelessly discarded?
Why should we become just another insignificant footnote in our opponent's list of achievements?

Why should he leave the field feeling guilty towards his teammates?
Why should those harsh boos be the final chapter of one's career?
A surge of scalding, blood-stained rage instantly breached all the dams!

That wasn't directed at his opponent, nor at the audience, but at this damned fate, at this cold, bleak end that was about to devour him!

This anger was so pure, so violent, with a resolute determination to destroy everything, that it instantly ignited all the remaining energy in his body!
"what--!!!"

A suppressed growl, seemingly torn from the depths of the soul, burst forth from Benneteau's clenched teeth! The sound wasn't loud, but it carried a chilling, mad power that instantly drowned out all the noise in the arena!
His eyes suddenly widened, and in the center of his bloodshot whites, two dark and intense flames seemed to ignite deep within his pupils! It was not the light of reason, but the desperate, ferocious glint of a beast cornered at the edge of a cliff!

His entire demeanor underwent a dramatic transformation in an instant!
The previous heavy fatigue and the feeling of being on the verge of collapse were swept away, replaced by a kind of awe-inspiring rage that was almost burning with life!

His body was slightly hunched, his muscles were taut like steel, and the veins on his right hand, which was gripping the racket, were bulging. His knuckles were white from excessive force, as if he wanted to crush the carbon fiber handle!
This sudden, almost tangible, fierce momentum startled both Gu Cheng on the other side of the net and Zhang Ming, who was watching from the sidelines.

Even Roger, who was preparing to serve, unconsciously showed a very subtle pause in his movements.

A hint of surprise flashed across Gu Cheng's sharp eyes, and the unrestrained boos from the stands seemed to be suddenly silenced by an invisible hand.

"Roger, serve!"

Roger stood behind the service line, his palms sweating profusely, so slippery that he could barely grip the racket handle.

The soreness in my arm muscles went deep into my bones, and every time I lifted my racket, it was like being torn apart.

He tossed the ball, pushed off the ground, and swung his racket—"smack!" His serve was noticeably distorted, lacking power, and the landing point had lost its usual trickiness.

The opponents' ferocity did not make Gu Cheng show any mercy; on the contrary, giving it his all was the greatest respect he could show to the two of them.

Run, swing the racket.

boom!
The crisp sound of the ball hitting the court rang out.

Bennetteau, like an enraged dragon, suddenly bent over, his body pressed low, his center of gravity leaning forward, his feet apart, his knees bent to the limit, presenting an extremely aggressive posture, ready to pounce at any moment.

He stared intently at Gu Cheng, his gaze seemingly piercing through him, carrying a ferocious, predatory intensity.
"Come!" A hoarse, deep word, yet containing explosive power, rolled out from Benneteau's throat like the sound of a war drum.

Gu Cheng frowned, his anger ignited by this sudden provocation. He snorted coldly, his arm muscles bulging, and his forehand backswing became more powerful and forceful!

He was going to crush this arrogant fool's last struggle!
"Drink!" Gu Cheng roared, his racket transforming into a blurry afterimage as he slammed it into the incoming ball!
"boom--!"

This return was even more violent than before!

With a piercing whistle, like a cannonball fired from a gun, carrying destructive power and intense topspin, it tore through the air and hurtled straight towards Benneteau's deep area near the sideline on his forehand side!

The angle was tricky, the speed was amazing, and the landing point was extremely deep, almost grazing the baseline!

This is Gu Cheng's all-out effort!
He wanted to score the decisive goal and end this game, which had already lost all suspense!
"It's over!"

"Even a miracle couldn't save this goal!"

A gasp erupted from the audience, mixed with sighs of relief that the score had been decided prematurely.

In that split second, Bennetteu made his move!

It was as if he had predicted the trajectory and landing point of the ball all along!
That crouching body, like a spring compressed to its limit, was suddenly released!
With a powerful push off the ground with his left foot, his body shot off like an arrow, sliding sideways with incredible explosive force! The blue soles of his shoes screeched sharply against the hard ground, even raising a wisp of smoke!

His sprint speed, at this moment when his physical strength was on the verge of exhaustion, actually burst out with an instantaneous acceleration that exceeded the limit! This movement, which completely defied common sense, made the pupils of everyone who knew football shrink in shock!

Just as the yellow shell was about to hit the baseline for the second time, Bennetteu's figure appeared.

Benneteau's racket grazed the bottom of the ball at the last second, like a climber grabbing the last vine on the edge of a cliff.

He practically scooped up the fatal smash with the edge of the racket frame, forcefully twisting his wrist outward at an extreme angle, causing the tennis ball to graz the inside of the net and bounce diagonally towards Gu Cheng's backhand opening!
"Snapped!"

The crisp sound of the racket hitting the ground drowned out the sound of the ball being hit.

Bennetteu's knee slammed heavily on the hard ground, the inertia propelling him half a meter across the surface, the friction between his wristband and the ground seemingly sparking a string of fire.

His right leg was twisted at an unnatural angle, his calf muscles twitching, but as he fell, he looked up at the sky—the tennis ball that had been forcibly rescued was streaking across the sky with a long trail of light.

The yellow shooting star was reflected in Gu Cheng's pupils.

He was ready to wrap up and celebrate, but now he had to dive to the left in an almost split-like position.

The backhand grip was hastily executed, and the racket face didn't even have time to fully straighten. The ball could only be watched as it grazed the edge of the racket and flew towards the doubles sideline.

"boom!"

The tennis ball hit about 20 centimeters outside the sideline, kicking up fine white dust.

The referee's voice trembled: "Out!"

The stands were initially deathly silent, then erupted in a tidal wave of gasps. Hugh's roar pierced the broadcast booth: "My God! Benneteau made a save while almost off-balance! This is the craziest defense in doubles history!"

"This goal!!" A young male voice, trembling with excitement and clearly speaking with a Chinese accent, roared from a corner, filled with the fervor of witnessing a miracle.

The entire stadium erupted in cheers!
Although the ball went out of bounds, it didn't diminish the coolness of Benneteau's save.

The sound waves were like a real tsunami, surging up from all directions and wildly impacting the stadium roof and everyone's eardrums!

This was no longer the boos or regrets of before, but a pure, hysterical frenzy and shock ignited by the ultimate visual spectacle!
Countless people jumped up from their seats, waving their arms wildly, their faces flushed, shouting hoarsely, trying to vent the indescribable turmoil in their hearts.

Bennettów lay sprawled on the ground, his forehead pressed against the cold earth. A sharp pain shot through his knees like an electric shock, yet he heard a muffled laugh rising from his chest—not from scoring a point, but from finally breaking free of some invisible constraint.

He looked up and saw Roger staggering toward him, his face a complex mix of ecstasy and worry.

"Are you crazy?!" Roger grabbed his arm, trying to help him up, but touched an unusually weak feeling in Benneteau's right leg. The veteran's face instantly turned pale: "Your knee."

"It's okay." Benneteau gritted his teeth and stood up, supporting himself with his racket. His right leg trembled violently as soon as he put weight on it.

He looked at Gu Cheng on the other side of the net, who was staring blankly at his racket, his hair plastered to his forehead with sweat, his chest heaving. Their gazes collided in mid-air, like two dying flames meeting a burning blaze, completing a dialogue beyond language across the twelve-meter net.

"This guy is insane!"

Gu Cheng licked his lips. At this moment, he seemed to have found the feeling of sweating it out with the Seigaku group on the court.

At this moment, I truly experienced the joy of playing tennis!

Yes, playing tennis is fun.

Win or lose, as long as you can continue playing tennis, you'll be happy.

Even if you know you're going to lose, as long as you're still standing on the court, still able to swing your racket, still able to hear the crisp sound of hitting the tennis ball, and still able to sweat it out on the court, you can forget everything.

"I admire your hard work and perseverance, but I'm sorry, I... don't want to lose either."

Gu Cheng showed no sign of letting up; he was even more serious and earnest than before.

Bennetteu adjusted his center of gravity by touching the ground with one foot, and spun the racket in his palm.

He caught a glimpse of the medical team jogging along the sidelines with first-aid kits, but waved to Roger.

"No need, I'm fine, just a scrape." Bennetteu gestured for the doctor to wait outside: "I don't need treatment."

"Let the doctor take a look and make sure everything is alright before we talk about it," Roger said, but he didn't agree with his teammate's idea.

If this level of injury is just a superficial wound, then it's nothing. These professional players have suffered many injuries. They're not some pretty-boy celebrities who would be crying and going to the hospital over a minor bump. This little injury is really nothing to professional players.

But there are always exceptions.

I feel fine now, just some superficial injuries, but it's possible that I've suffered serious internal injuries.

If there are problems with bones, ligaments, or other structures, it could affect their future career, which is something no professional athlete can tolerate.

Seeing Roger's insistence, Benneteau had no choice but to give up his position.

The doctor squatted down and examined the wound for a while: "It's just a superficial injury, no need for much treatment."

After the doctor finished speaking, he began to disinfect the wound, and then wrapped another bandage around the knee to prevent the wound from coming into contact with dust or bacteria and becoming infected.

After doing all this, the doctor picked up his medical kit and left.

Benneteau got up and jumped twice, which did not affect his jumping ability, and then signaled to the referee.

The referee understood immediately, glanced at Gu Cheng, and signaled for the match to continue.

Bennetteu paid no heed to the commotion coming from outside the stadium. In fact, in his mind, the noise from the stands suddenly seemed distant, and all his senses were focused on the tense figure on the other side of the net.

Gu Cheng changed his grip, lowering the racket face angle to an extremely low position, like a cheetah poised to pounce.

(End of this chapter)