Billiards: Starting with the Overlord's Shot, Dominating the World

Author September Blessing presents "Table Tennis: Starting with the Overlord's Slam, Dominating the World" for you.

Fan Zhengyang raised his head and looked at the spirited face in front of him, his face showing no sign of frustration or anger.

He even smiled slightly and nodded: "Thank you for your guidance, senior brother. I will remember it."

His reaction caused Gao Peng's prepared "headmaster" style remarks to get stuck in his throat, leaving him feeling awkward and uncomfortable.

He had anticipated that Fan Zhengyang would be dissatisfied, angry, and make excuses, but he never expected that he would accept it so calmly.

It felt like he had thrown a powerful punch with all his might, only to hit a piece of cotton – an indescribable sense of frustration.

Fan Zhengyang ignored him and walked straight to the sidelines, where he picked up a towel and wiped his sweat.

We lost?

Yes, we lost.

Was the loss really that bad?

Yes, it looks terrible.

But so what?

His gaze passed over his teammates, who were either mocking, sympathizing, or gloating, and landed on the huge world map on the wall of the training hall.

The map is marked with red five-pointed stars, indicating the host cities of previous Olympic Games, World Championships, and World Cups.

Paris, Rotterdam, Durban, Houston...

Those distant yet shining names were his true battlefield.

Gao Peng?

It was just an insignificant pebble on his path to the top of the world.

Is it important to trip over a pebble?

unimportant.

The important thing is that he clearly knows that his journey is to the stars and the sea.

Just then, that damnably cute system notification sounded again.

[Ding! Detection indicates the host has completed the "Devilish Muscle Man Crash Course"!]

[Task Evaluation: Perfect! (Even under extreme fatigue, 98% accuracy of movements was maintained!)]

[Task rewards are being distributed...]

[Congratulations, host! Your Overlord Twist skill has officially advanced to Expert level!]

Gao Peng's earnest and heartfelt teachings were like a pebble thrown into a calm lake, instantly triggering a series of chain reactions among the team members.

The discussions that had been suppressed for several days could no longer be contained, and they erupted like a thunderstorm on a summer afternoon.

"I knew it! How strong could someone come up from the city team? The championship title was way overrated!"

"Senior Brother Gao Peng didn't break a sweat at all; he did it like it was nothing."

"Looks like Lin Yi isn't all that great after all, losing to someone like that. Is the provincial youth team running out of talent this year?"

"What genius, what monster? I bet it's all just media hype! Look at him now, he's been exposed for what he really is. Let's see how arrogant he'll be then!"

Mockery, ridicule, schadenfreude... all sorts of voices intertwined, forming an invisible, malicious net that enveloped Fan Zhengyang on the sidelines.

As Gao Peng listened to these discussions, his smugness deepened; he reveled in the feeling of trampling geniuses underfoot. They acted as if they were the center of attention.

Fan Zhengyang remained calm. He sat on the bench, slowly unscrewed a bottle of water, and drank it as if no one else was around, as if the harsh comments were just annoying flies buzzing around.

His composure, in the eyes of some, was seen as "stubborn as a mule" or "pretending to be calm."

Just as the atmosphere of mockery was about to reach its peak, a cold and oppressive voice, like a Siberian cold front, instantly swept through the entire training hall.

"You're all very free, aren't you?!"

It's Wei Gang!

Wei Gang, head coach of the provincial men's team and a gold medal coach!

He had somehow moved to the back of the crowd, his hands behind his back, his perpetually expressionless face now covered with an aura of icy coldness. His sharp, piercing eyes slowly swept over each of the team members who were whispering among themselves.

Those who were swept by his gaze all seemed like ducks with their necks being choked, instantly falling silent, subconsciously lowering their heads, not daring to even breathe loudly.

The entire training hall fell into complete silence in an instant; you could hear a pin drop.

The venue, which was just moments ago incredibly noisy, is now eerily quiet.

"Have you all finished your training? Are you all as idle as gossipy old women in a market, talking nonsense here?" Wei Gang's voice wasn't loud, but every word was like a heavy hammer, striking the team members' hearts hard.

He slowly walked up to the smug Gao Peng and stopped.

"Gao Peng".

"Here! Coach!" Gao Peng jumped up and stood up straight, his smile vanishing instantly.

"You look quite impressive today," Wei Gang said, his tone revealing neither joy nor anger.

"I...I didn't, Coach, I was just sparring with the new junior brother..." Gao Peng explained somewhat guiltily.

"A friendly spar?" Wei Gang's voice suddenly rose, like a thunderclap from a clear sky. "You call this a friendly spar?!"

He pointed at Fan Zhengyang, then at Gao Peng, and angrily rebuked, "Can't you see what state he's in?! His steps are unsteady, his attacks are weak, and his reactions are more than half a beat slow! You beat him in this state, what's there for you to be so smug and boastful about?!"

"You're playing table tennis, not boxing! Is it honorable to win by taking advantage of others?!"

Every word Wei Gang said was like a resounding slap across Gao Peng's face.

Gao Peng's face instantly turned a deep purplish-red, a mixture of shame, embarrassment, and a hint of resentment, making him wish he could disappear into a crack in the ground.

The surrounding team members looked at each other, not daring to utter a sound. They had never seen Wei Gang so angry.

"And you guys too!" Wei Gang's gaze swept over the crowd again. "A bunch of you gathered here watching the show, stirring up trouble, is that so interesting?!"

"Why is Fan Zhengyang not performing well? Nobody asks or cares! All you do is kick him when he's down. Is this the team spirit of our Blue Province team?!"

"One practice match and you've all lost your composure?!"

"Everyone!" Wei Gang roared.

"Frog jumps! Twenty laps around the gym! If you don't finish, nobody's having dinner tonight!"

"Yes, Coach!"

The team members felt as if they had been granted a pardon, groaning in pain, but daring not to slack off in the slightest. They immediately lined up and began their painful journey of frog jumps.

In the vast training hall, only the heavy breathing could be heard.

Wei Gang ignored the group of "frog sons" and walked up to Fan Zhengyang.

He looked at Fan Zhengyang's unusually calm face and frowned slightly: "You lost, and you're not reconciled?"

"There's nothing to be resentful about," Fan Zhengyang shook his head and said frankly, "I'm simply outmatched. Senior Brother Gao Peng really did a great job."

He didn't offer a single word of explanation for his situation.

Because he knows that in competitive sports, being bad is the original sin; if you lose, you lose, and any excuse is meaningless.

Wei Gang gave him a deep look, his eyes filled with complex emotions.

This kid's mentality is more mature and terrifying than he imagined.

"Come to my office with me," Wei Gang said, then turned and left.