’Hard to beat a guy who’s unpredictable and lucky.’
Hao let out a quiet hum.
Yeah. That sounded about right.
Ji Yunzhi had only played three gas. Three.
And yet, each one looked like a completely different person had taken the cue.
From bumbling beginner to near-flawless shotmaker, it was absurd how fast he adapted. His talent wasn’t just in execution, but in correction.
Every shot he missed before? Turned into data. Every awkward move? Logged, adjusted, refined.
It was like watching soone fail basic sword forms in the morning, and by afternoon, they’re slicing through falling leaves with pinpoint precision.
If he were a script, he was rewriting himself on the fly.
Hao’s eyes drifted back to the table.
If Old Tiger Zhao had a win condition, it was speed. He needed to end the ga fast - before Ji Yunzhi’s brain turned the table into another solved puzzle.
Because if this went on long enough... the bald alchemist was going to clean it up.
"Still." Mo Xixi suddenly muttered, arms crossed and cheeks puffed a little.
’I’m better than both of them, boss."
Hao looked at her sideways. ’Really now?’
’Hmph. Obviously. I’d crush them both. Maybe even against you, boss.’
"Oh? Even ?"
’You’ve gotten rusty, boss. Admit it.’
Hao chuckled. ’Not that rusty.’
’I’ve been practicing.’ she mumbled, tilting her chin up.
’Late at night. After training. So one day, when you least expect it... bam. I’ll wipe the floor with you.’
’Should I be scared?’
She blinked at him, then grinned. ’A little.’
Then quickly added. ’...but don’t worry, boss. I’ll let you pocket a few balls. Just enough so you don’t look too pitiful.’
’How kind of you.’
’Soone has to protect your pride. You’re the boss, after all.’
Hao laughed. ’You’re really looking forward to beating , huh?’
’I am.’ She smiled up at him - just a little. ’So don’t lose to anyone else. I want that win to count.’
’Looking forward to it, Little Xixi.’
’Hmph. You should, boss.’
’You better not back out, boss! I’ll even use the bad stick, just to be fair.’
"You better not back out, boss! I’ll even use the bad stick, just to be fair."
Of course, for anyone watching, that was obviously a joke.
There was no such thing as a bad stick.
All the cue sticks produced by the System were made to the exact sa standard - perfect balance, perfect build, no defects.
You wouldn’t even be able to scratch it or break it, even if you tired yourself out to death.
But still, it was funny to Hao hearing Mo XIxi say it with such confidence.
’Wow. So generous.’
’Of course. You’ll need all the help you can get.’ She flicked her hair.
’But don’t worry. Win or lose, I won’t bully you too much.’
’Since you’re my boss and all.’
’So sweet. I feel very honored.’ Hao laughed, then nodded to the table.
’Let’s see if Ji Yunzhi survives this round first.’
The match between Old Tiger Zhao and Ji Yunzhi began.
Old Tiger Zhao went in strong.
With a flick of his wrist and a loud crack of the break, two balls fell cleanly into the pockets. One solid. One stripe. Cheers erupted. He followed up with another smooth shot, but by the fourth, the cue ball stopped in a tight, awkward angle.
Zhao paused.
Then casually nudged the ball - not to pocket it, but to hide it behind two others, creating a snarl of angles that made most of the onlookers wince.
A few murmurs passed around.
"That’s... the storekeeper move, right?"
"Cheap but clean. It works."
"But still feels like getting scamd gently."
Everyone’s eyes turned to Ji Yunzhi.
He crouched, studied the ss, then lined up his cue like he had all the ti in the world. One clean strike. The ball bounced off the side rail, curved just enough to nick another, and - clack - into the pocket.
So jaws dropped.
Trick shot. Smooth. Ridiculous.
The cue ball rolled again, but stopped behind another awkward cluster.
No angle. No real shot.
Ji Yunzhi didn’t frown. He simply tapped the cue ball to kiss one of his own into safety and made sure the position didn’t open anything up.
Not great, but it avoided a foul. And that alone was enough to make even experienced players quietly nod in respect.
Old Tiger Zhao stepped up again.
But this ti, the old man was cornered. His usual mix of power and precision couldn’t crack this one clean. He went for a classic power break on the cluster.
Too much strength. Not enough bite.
The cue ball rattled uselessly. No pocket.
Ji Yunzhi stepped up. Again.
And then it happened.
Clack. One ball down.
Clack. Another.
Clack. Again.
One by one, he erased them all from the table.
A silent rhythm. A quiet dance of physics and vision. Shot after shot, angle after angle, he moved with precision that felt closer to ditation than competition.
Final shot. Clean.
Ga.
The store erupted in cheers.
"Woo!"
"Shit!"
"He did it again!"
"That bald guy’s not real!"
Ji Yunzhi had advanced to the finals.
And from the way the crowd was reacting - he hadn’t just won.
He had arrived.
"I think the first shot of Bai Chen won this ga, no?"
"Yeah, that trick shot? If he ssed that up and got a foul, the old man would’ve placed the cue ball wherever he liked. He could’ve cleaned it all up right there."
"Mhm. The old man was only stuck because Bai Chen left him that nasty position."
"That cue ball placent was chef’s kiss. He didn’t even try to make a ball in, just locked it in a way that made the next shot completely useless."
"I swear, it was beautiful. Like baiting a beast into a cage and shutting the door gently."
"He played it so safe but so smart. That second turn from the old man was the key. He couldn’t do anything with it, and that was all Bai Chen needed."
"Fourth ga, and he already plays like he’s got a hundred behind him. That’s terrifying."
"I thought he was only good at pills, man. Why’s he dangerous with a cue too?"
"No idea. But I’m betting ice cream that he’s winning this tournant."
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