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

A long sigh of relief came from the sidelines.

Many people felt their backs were soaked with sweat, as if they had just been playing on the field.

"My God, this game has lasted almost an hour! It's so grueling."

"Even Tezuka, who has broken through to a higher level, couldn't turn the score around. Atobe is just too steady, isn't he?"

……

Tezuka slowly retracted his racket, a wave of soreness washing over his left arm. He casually lowered his arm to ease the discomfort. Sweat streamed down his face, but he didn't wipe it away, simply standing there adjusting his breathing. His expression remained largely unchanged, except for a slight furrow at the brow, which quickly relaxed.

He walked back to the sidelines and took the sports drink from Echizen. He was a beat slow in twisting the cap because his left hand couldn't get the strength right, so he switched to his right hand and finally managed to open it.

"Minister." Ryoma Echizen's hat brim was pulled low, his amber eyes fixed on his left arm. "Left hand..."

"It's nothing," Tezuka interrupted him, took a sip of water, and spoke in a flat tone.

Oishi leaned closer, his face full of worry, "Tezuka, why don't you..."

"The match isn't over yet." Tezuka put down his water bottle, turned to look at him, his gaze behind his glasses deep and serious. "We can't stop now."

Oishi wanted to say more, but Fuji gently tugged at his arm. Fuji shook his head, his brown eyes filled with complex emotions. He knew Tezuka's personality; once he made up his mind, no amount of persuasion would change it.

He flipped through his notebook, his pen hovering over the line for "arm load," the numbers accumulating to an alarming degree. His lips moved, but he ultimately remained silent.

At times like this, it's too late to say anything.

Momoshiro and Kaidou stood behind, wanting to say something encouraging, but afraid of disturbing Tezuka, so they held back, their expressions not very good.

On Hyotei's side, Atobe walked back to the coach's bench, sweat dripping down his jawline from his forehead, soaking the back of his team uniform.

He took the towel from Wang Yueling, wiped his face, sat down in the chair, his breathing a little rapid, but his back remained straight.

"How's your arm?" Mochizuki Ryou handed over a sports drink and spoke slowly, her voice low enough for the two of them to hear.

Atobe unscrewed the bottle cap, took a sip, and glanced at him sideways. "Hmph! A war of attrition is my forte."

"Okay, you're good." Wang Yueling praised him with a smile, and began to check the tension of his racket. "The next game is his serve. Keep playing backhand, have more rallies, and don't try to match short shots with him. Although the 'thousand-times-trained' technique is powerful, it doubles the load on his elbow with every shot. At most, he can hold on for one more game."

"Uh-huh, I got it." Atobe wiped the sweat from his neck with his head down, his tone haughty.

Seeing the slight redness on his ear tips, Wang Yueling almost burst out laughing. She gently tapped her knee with her racket. "Go to the net more often and change the rhythm with volleys. The more frequently he uses his left hand, the faster his skill level will collapse. Also, it's time to bring out your instrumental pieces."

Atobe paused, his icy blue eyes flashing. He didn't speak, but nodded slightly, as if he had listened.

Looking at his profile, Wang Yueling added, "Don't waste too much time with him. You need to save your wrists and knees for the national tournament."

"Nonsense." Atobe tossed out two words, placed the empty bottle aside, snatched the racket from his hand, and spun it around. Sunlight fell on his purplish-gray hair, gilding it with a light gold.

Wang Yueling shook her head, a hint of a smile in her eyes. This guy is always so stubborn.

-

The short break passed quickly, and the eighth game, Tezuka's serve, officially began.

Tezuka stood behind the baseline and switched his racket back to his left hand. His fingertips were still a little numb, and his elbow was throbbing with intermittent dull pain.

He took a deep breath, tossed the ball, and swung his racket.

Zero serve.

This shot was perfect thanks to the enhancement of his skill level, even far surpassing his original serve. Once it landed after crossing the net, it almost wouldn't bounce up.

But Atobe had anticipated this. He lunged forward, extended his racket under the ball, and deftly flicked it towards his opponent's backhand.

Tezuka went online and intercepted the attack.

Atobe retreats and hits the ball from the baseline.

The two players entered into a high-intensity tug-of-war right from the very first shot.

The pace of this game was also faster than the last one.

Tezuka's offensive game was noticeably stronger. With the added power honed through countless hours of practice, each serve carried immense force, and combined with the spin of the Tezuka Zone, it effectively locked down Atobe's return trajectory.

Atobe was not to be outdone, moving with the speed of the wind. No matter where the ball landed, he could arrive precisely half a step ahead and return it steadily. His return angles became increasingly tricky, forcing Tezuka to constantly adjust the spin of his domain. Until the domain failed, he had to expend energy running over a large area.

The two players moved quickly, almost as soon as the ball landed, they were already waiting at the next landing point.

With wide-angle runs and switching between forehand and backhand, every shot is precise to the millimeter.

Each shot was accompanied by a whooshing sound, the sound of the ball hitting the court was as dense as popping beans, and the yellow ball shuttled back and forth in the air above the court as fast as a beam of light.

It's dazzling.

The entire arena was eerily quiet. The only sounds in the vast court were the thud of the ball hitting the shuttlecock and the screech of shoes on the pavement. Even the loudest spectators had fallen silent, their eyes glued to the court, as if afraid to miss a single detail.

I'm so nervous.

Every ball felt like it was hanging on a knife's edge; you never knew if it would land and score in the next second.

Regardless of whether they were in the front or back row, they leaned forward, their eyes following the ball as it moved from side to side, and they didn't even want to rub their sore necks.

The tension in the air tightened more and more, like a fully drawn bow, ready to snap at any moment.

Shiba Saori stood in the press box, her eyes fixed on Tezuka on the court, her heart rising and falling with every shot.

She muttered under her breath, her voice trembling slightly, "How can Atobe from Hyotei run so fast? It's so annoying. He just wears down the opponent's stamina when he can't win. It's so tedious."

Inoue took the camera from her hand and quickly pressed the shutter button, but his eyes never left the viewfinder. "It's too fast, the camera can't even capture the trajectory of the ball."

He frowned, deleted the still image he had just taken, and added, "Tezuka has to win this serve, otherwise the gap will be too big..."

On the stands of Rikkai University, everyone was watching intently.

Yukimura's gaze fell on the two on the field, his expression calm. Only the fingers resting on his right arm unconsciously tightened slightly.

Sanada sat next to him, his back ramrod straight, his brows furrowed, and his gaze fixed intently on the court.

Irie, who was leaning against the railing next to them, was twirling his sunglasses when he suddenly chuckled softly.

"This... isn't just about honing skills through countless trials. They've also reached another hurdle."

The sound wasn't loud, just enough to reach the ears of a few people nearby.

Niou, who had been watching the commotion with his chin propped up, immediately straightened up and moved closer upon hearing this. His silver hair swayed with the movement, and his eyes held a hint of inquiry. "Oh? What do you mean by that, senior?"

Kirihara was even more direct, squeezing past Niou to stand next to Irie, his eyes wide open, his seaweed head shaking, "Senpai, Senpai! What other level is there that I didn't see?"

Sanada turned his head, his gaze beneath the brim of his hat carrying a hint of seriousness. Yanagi, meanwhile, held a pen, looking as if he were ready to record data at any moment.

Irie tapped his chin lightly with the temple of his glasses, a hint of amusement flashing in his eyes as he looked at the two juniors who had gathered around and the curious expressions of the others.

He spoke in a serious tone, with a hint of being a know-it-all, "There are three realms in tennis: the limit of honing skills through countless trials, the limit of unleashing talent, and the limit of flawless execution."

"Practice makes perfect is the first step, strengthening the player's advantageous body parts to counterattack and double the power. The second step is to unleash your full potential. Being able to predict how many shots it will take to score and where the ball will land is like seeing the course of the game in advance."

He smiled and pointed to the field, "Tezuka Kunimitsu's move is a double blessing. He crossed two thresholds in a desperate situation, impressive."

Kirihara's eyes widened as he turned to look at Tezuka on the field, his eyes filled with envy, almost sparkling with stars. "Wow... he's so lucky! He managed to break through in a game he was sure to lose, and twice at that?! No wonder the vice-captain has been watching him for so long..."

He muttered to himself, his voice trailing off, "When will I ever reach the edge of that realm...? Being forced to run laps by the vice minister every day, when will it ever end..."

Before he could finish speaking, he was hit on the back of the head.

"You're too lax!" Sanada's voice boomed from behind, "Skill is earned through hard work, not luck."

Kirihara hissed in pain, clutched his head, pouted, and hid behind Niou.

Niou chuckled at the sight, draped his arm over Kirihara's shoulder, and deliberately gestured with his chin toward Sanada. "Akaya, our Vice-Captain Sanada hasn't even touched two thresholds yet, and he's not worried. Why are you in such a hurry, huh?"

Sanada's brows furrowed even more, and his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

"Nioh!"

Kirihara's animal radar kept beeping, and he hurriedly covered the back of his head, slipping away from behind Niou and hiding towards Yukimura. "Captain! The vice-captain hit someone again!"

While complaining, she clung to Luna's cat carrier, poked half her head out to look at Sanada, and even made a face at him.

"Alright." Yukimura smiled and glanced at them, pointing to the cat carrier beside him. He turned his head to look at them, his voice very soft, "Be quiet. Watch the game, don't wake Luna."

The little black ball in the cat carrier stirred, its little tail twitched, it tugged at the mesh, responded with a "meow," and then curled back up to sleep.

A soft snore escaped from the sound of the ball being hit.

The group immediately fell silent.

Kirihara stuck out his tongue, sat up straight, and his eyes were glued back to the court. Niou shrugged, leaned back in his chair, and a mischievous smile lingered on his lips.

Yukimura's gaze returned to the court, but he stopped watching the game and instead focused on Atobe's figure. He recalled Irie's words earlier, which were, "They've all reached the threshold."

He looked up at Irie not far away and spoke softly.

"What Irie-senpai was talking about just now was them."

Liu and Renzu also looked over, clearly having noticed the word as well.

Irie paused for a moment, then smiled, tapped the center of the court with the arm of his sunglasses, and waved it in the direction of the two.

"Yes, them."

"Both of you on the field have reached the threshold of these two levels. Otherwise, how do you think Atobe Keigo could have held his own against Tezuka, who had activated his dual-mirror technique, for so long and still gained the upper hand? Skill alone is not enough."

Upon hearing this, the people around fell silent.

Sanada suddenly turned his head to look at the field, his eyes under the brim of his hat filled with astonishment.

Keigo Atobe has also reached the threshold of two major realms?!

How could that be?

Liu opened his eyes, the pen tip resting on the paper, the ink spreading slightly. Renwang also dropped his playful expression, his fox-like eyes narrowing slightly.

"Wow, Atobe has also mastered the art of dual mirrors." Marui exclaimed, forgetting to chew his gum.

Yukimura wasn't too surprised, but his gaze deepened as he watched Atobe run away. Luna gently touched the mesh of the cat carrier; inside, she rolled over, her soft black fur brushing against the back of his hand.

His gaze fell on the figure on the field, shrouded in a faint light. His right hand, hanging by his side, twitched slightly, and his fingertips pressed against the muscles of his right arm.

A state of being?

He had already grasped the basics when he was in elementary school.

However, I fell ill later and had to put it aside for a long time.

During this rehabilitation period, I've only been slowly picking up the basics; I haven't dared to touch on anything beyond advanced levels yet.

His fingertips tightened unconsciously, and he felt a slight soreness in his right arm.

It seems the rehabilitation progress is still slow.

Otherwise, when we get back to the competition, we won't be able to keep up with these guys.

only……

He glanced sideways at the blond boy on the Hyotei coaching bench, feeling a little helpless.

That guy, Mochizuki Ryo, is even stricter than Sanada when it comes to recovery. If he says you can't touch the realm, then you absolutely can't touch it.

Trying to sneak in an extra dose without his knowledge would probably be difficult.

Forget it.

After the match is over, I'll have a good talk with him.

That person seems unreliable, but he always knows his limits in these kinds of matters.

As long as you speak politely and use a slightly softer tone...

We should be able to negotiate a new plan.

As he was thinking, the people on the Hyotei coaching bench seemed to sense his presence and suddenly turned their heads to look in his direction. Their eyes met, and Mochizuki Ryou's azure eyes curved into a smile as she playfully winked at him.

Yukimura's eyes flickered, his ears felt slightly hot, and he subtly looked away, returning his gaze to the field, though the corners of his lips unconsciously curled upwards slightly.

Sanada was stunned for a while before slowly coming back to his senses. He looked at Oshitari beside him, his tone carrying a hint of hesitation.

"Atobe really..."

Shinobu pushed up his glasses, a faint smile playing on his lips, his tone tinged with pride.

"Everyone at Rikkai should remember that Atobe entered the realm of brilliance during the training camp." He said, looking at Sanada and nodding slightly. "Speaking of which, I have to thank Sanada-kun. Last time at the training camp, we played a full seven-game series, and Atobe got used to the high-intensity pace of the competition in advance. In addition, Mochizuki Ryo said that Sanada-kun still had some trump cards up his sleeve, which made Atobe feel a sense of crisis, and his training volume doubled."

Renji spoke casually, but the meaning behind his words was very clear.

Atobe's success today is due to three factors: talent, hard work, and a sense of crisis.

"Our minister may seem flamboyant, but he works harder than anyone else." Ren Zu smiled. "He trains until the lights go out every day, and it's common for him to practice serving until his wrist can't be lifted anymore. He always exceeds Ling Ding's hellish training plan. He naturally overcomes the hurdle of being tempered and refined."

Sanada remained silent for a long time after hearing this.

He had always thought that Atobe, being a pampered young master from a wealthy family, would definitely not be as diligent in his training as he was.

In retrospect, he had been making assumptions.

How could Atobe Keigo have brought Hyotei to this position solely based on his family background?

only……

His brows furrowed even more.

How could Mochizuki Ryou know that he had another trump card?

Only Yukimura and Yanagi knew about the "yin" move; even Niou was only half-guessing it.

How did you find out about Wang Yueling, who is from another school?

Yukimura noticed his confusion, and his gaze swept over the blond figure on the coach's bench. The smile in his eyes faded, leaving only inquiry.

This golden retriever seems to know far too much.

Hmm... there are quite a few secrets hidden.

He'll dig it all out sooner or later.

"Hey, senpai!" Kirihara came over again, tugged at Yanagi's sleeve, and when Yanagi looked over, he pointed to the field and asked, "Why doesn't Atobe-senpai have any light on him? Tezuka-sama is covered in a white layer."

Before Liu could speak, Irie interrupted with a smile.

"Because Tezuka has just broken through, his realm is not yet stable, and his power is dissipating outwards, so it looks like he's glowing. Atobe, on the other hand, has already stepped into that realm and has been training for a long time, so his power is contained within his body, which is why it's not as obvious. When he can control his power at will and even hide his aura, that's when he's truly mastered it."

"all in all……"

"It's rare to see two players of the same skill level compete on the same stage even in professional matches. You junior high students are really lucky to be able to see this. Kids, watch carefully. This level of competition will be very helpful for your understanding of the game's level."

Kirihara suddenly understood, nodded, and squatted back down on the steps, looking at the field with admiration.

Liu stood behind, her pen flying across her notebook, without saying a word.

The paper was covered with data: ball speed, spin intensity, running distance, changes after the realm was triggered, each line clearly remembered.

Niou glanced at Sanada, whose face was grim beside him, then leaned closer, his tone slightly mocking, "Vice-Captain, Atobe has already reached the dual realms, and you're still holding back. It's one thing to hold back in training matches, but don't lose in the real competition because you're holding back, that would be a huge loss."

As he spoke, something occurred to him, and his tone became a little somber, a hint of anger flashing in his eyes.

Sanada's face under the brim of his hat was gloomy, but he showed no intention of refuting it.

Yagyu gently nudged Niou's arm, his tone gentle and reassuring, "Masaharu, don't say that. Genichiro knows his limits; he won't hold back in a formal match."

Niou snorted, turned his face away, but unconsciously leaned his shoulder closer to Yagyu, his tone softening a bit, "It had better. Otherwise, if we lose, it'll be too late to cry."

Seeing his awkward expression, Liu Sheng's eyes behind his glasses curved slightly. He didn't say anything more, but simply patted the back of his hand gently.

Marui and Kuwabara, sensing the tense atmosphere, exchanged a glance and quickly tried to smooth things over, "Hey, let's watch the match first! This game is so exciting, don't miss it!"

"Exactly, let's talk about other things after we finish playing."

The two of them worked together to finally bring the topic back to the basketball court.

Just then, Jiro, clinging to the railing, suddenly exclaimed in surprise, "Wow! Atobe is amazing!"

Kirihara also shouted, pointing at the field with his eyes wide open.

"They've come up with another new trick!"