Prince of Tennis Fraudster

Ultimately, he was also a person whose mind had been distorted by art.

But he enjoyed it.

As he learned more about the art studio, his inner turmoil strangely subsided. He was drawn to the other person's stubbornness and madness.

Meanwhile, as Balintin began to experience Shakespearean tragedy, he gradually forgot about tennis and was assimilated by this poignant art.

in reality.

Looking at Irie, who remained motionless, Mitsuya frowned and said, "This guy, is he just going to stay like this and not wake up?"

"The spirit, the fantasy, and many other aspects of tennis cannot be explained by science at this stage."

Renwang shook his head and said, "I wouldn't be surprised if anything happened in this match. However, according to the tournament rules, if the player cannot wake up within thirty minutes, this match can only be settled as a draw."

"Captain Reinhardt!"

On the other side, Bryant said anxiously, "If this continues, Balintin's captain will only be able to draw with the opponent."

Balentin was undoubtedly the American representative's trump card, a rather sharp pawn. They intended to use him to restrain the Byodoin, but they never expected to run into Irie.

If they are forced to a draw by their opponents, they will suffer a loss in silence.

After all, in their eyes, the match between Irie and Balentin was largely a clash between a middle-class team and a superior team; failing to win would be a loss.

"Wait!"

Reinhardt's tone was calm, even exuding a chilling aura that made Bryant instinctively shrink back. Only then did he remember who his commander really was.

"I understand……"

He nodded and respectfully stepped aside.

Tap tap, tap tap...

Reinhardt stared at the two motionless figures on the field, tapping his fingers incessantly on his chair, a strange light flashing in his deep blue eyes.

"I'm certain that the other person can't escape your mental world."

He had fought against Balintin before and was enveloped by that terrifying mental illusion, taking a considerable amount of effort to extricate himself. Therefore, he was well aware of the terrifying power of Balintin's mental strength.

"But I never expected that you would also fall into the other person's mental world..."

In his original plan, Balentin was certain to win against all Japanese high school students except for Niou... but the power of Irie's spiritual illusion overturned his understanding.

Five minutes passed, and the two still did not react.

Ten minutes later, the atmosphere became somewhat noisy, as the audience could no longer wait.

Twenty minutes later, a strange light flashed in Reinhardt's eyes again, and he said in a deep voice, "In that case, you should go warm up first."

"I see."

Upon hearing this, a young man with golden-gray hair behind him turned around and headed off the field.

"Cough cough..."

Finally, the thirtieth minute arrived. After checking the time, the referee announced, "Due to the inability of both competitors to continue the match, this match..."

"Well……"

Just then, Balintin across from him woke up.

"call……"

Seeing this, Bryant breathed a sigh of relief and laughed, "As expected of Balintin's captain, it seems he calibrated the time, right?"

Damn it!

On the other hand, the Japanese team members were all staring intently at Irie on the court. However, Irie remained in her racket grip, seemingly lost in thought, staring blankly into the distance.

"Almost there."

At this moment, Niou shook his head and said, "This is the World Cup final, don't do anything that's disgusting."

"Bad taste?" What does that mean?

Everyone was taken aback, but Irie's lips curled into a slight smile. He resumed his movements, winked at Niou, and said, "I knew I couldn't fool you..."

"In that case..."

Seeing that the two had regained consciousness, the referee nodded and said, "Then let's continue the match, starting with the tiebreaker, with Balintin from the United States..."

"sorry."

But Balintin shook his head and said, "I forfeit this match."

"what?"

The entire American team was taken aback, and before the Japanese players could even celebrate, Irie raised his hand and said, "I'm also forfeiting..."

The two of them actually gave up the match at the same time?

Chapter 183 The Crucial Battle

"They all abstained?"

In the stands, the athletes from various countries stared in disbelief at the competition. Tracy from the Swiss team frowned and asked, "Why? Didn't they all see through their opponents' special moves?"

"Perhaps that's the reason."

Amadeus said, "To see through an opponent's ultimate move means to see into their mental world. And during this time, they may have been influenced by something about each other."

"Well……"

Medanore, who was standing next to him, opened his narrowed eyes and said with a sigh, "Something, perhaps, can be called art."

After witnessing each other's true strength, the two realized they couldn't defeat each other and thus voluntarily gave up.

"But……"

Torres, with his arms crossed, frowned and said, "Putting aside the fact that Balentin forfeited, since he forfeited, why did Irie, who could have won effortlessly, still forfeit?"

He couldn't understand how anyone could willingly give up victory in a competition that carries the weight of the nation's destiny.

How would I know?

Medanore shrugged and said with a wry smile, "Perhaps, that's what makes them different from us..."

In Irie and Barentin's eyes, tennis, matches, and the nation are merely embellishments to their art and performance. Once these things contradict what they pursue, they will not hesitate to discard them.

Even a victory in the World Cup final!

"Damn it, that Irie guy!"

On the Japanese team, Tono, Hakamada, and others glared resentfully at Irie as he walked off the field. They could have won, but he gave up in front of everyone.

Kimishima said in a deep voice, "Irie-kun, if we fail to win the championship, you will bear the historical responsibility."

"Ah!"

Irie smiled, a faint smile that revealed his disdain for the so-called victory and the so-called champion.

"Damn it..."

Tono was furious, but just as he was about to make a move, his shoulder was grabbed by a large hand.

"Ping, Byodoin..."

Seeing the young man gripping his racket, Tono shrank back. Although his opponent was no longer the strongest in the U-17, his second-tier skill was still something he had to look up to.

"Enter the river!"

Byodoin didn't look at him, but instead looked up at Irie: "I don't care what you're thinking, but there won't be a next time!"

After saying that, he turned around and stepped onto the court.

Watching his retreating figure, Irie smiled faintly and said, "I understand."

Although he is easygoing, he cannot give up tennis. Without tennis, he would lose his medium for performance, and similarly, he would lose much of the enjoyment that performances bring.

"The singles match two will now begin!"

On the other side, a young man emerged from the American direction. He was about 1.88 meters tall, with golden-gray hair and a handsome face that could make any young woman swoon. His walk exuded a capable air, making him someone not to be underestimated.

"Japan's Byodoin Phoenix (Grade 12) vs. America's TD Diablo (Grade 12)!"

"It sure is him!"

When the referee announced the player's name, a glint flashed in Medanore's eyes. This man had intervened to stop him two years earlier when Medanore was trying to break into the New York U-17 team.

However, the opponent was only testing the waters, retreating after a couple of shots. But the gloomy and oppressive feeling left a deep impression on him.

"Diavolo?"

In the Japanese team, Mitsuya frowned: "This guy hasn't even made a single shot in this World Cup!"

"what?"

Upon hearing this, Inui, who was standing next to him, was taken aback. He quickly opened his laptop and carefully searched through every game of the American team, but just as Mitsuya had said, there were no game records for this person.

Noah frowned and said, "A trump card that's been kept under wraps?"

It seems that Reinhardt had indeed made many meticulous preparations in order to obtain that position.

At this moment, Mifune, who was sitting on the coach's bench, spoke up: "What do you think?"

After thinking for a moment, Renwang said, "The outcome of this match is very important."

"Ah."

Mifune nodded, his gaze towards the opposing player darkening slightly. This person was definitely no ordinary individual.

"Match begins! Byodoin of the Japanese team serves. End of set!"

Standing at the baseline, Byodoin held the tennis ball in his left hand, his eyes fixed on his opponent.

Gloomy and oppressive!

This handsome man did indeed exude a heavy, negative aura. If he wasn't mistaken, he was probably the same as the bespectacled, purple-haired boy in their group.

A player who uses negative emotions as a source of explosive energy.

Thinking of this, he gently pressed the tennis ball with his left hand, and instantly, a pale golden light formed on the surface of the tennis ball.

"That is……"

Seeing this, the surrounding audience and contestants were immediately invigorated.