Chapter 37: The Fourth Seed, the Gallic Rooster

After the match concluded, Jiang Hong was in no hurry to leave, as the draw for the main tournament was scheduled to follow. For a player who had fought his way through the qualifiers, this was a life-altering moment; running into a seeded player would be a true nightmare.

Once in the main draw, the primary goal was to earn ranking points. Those seeded players were generally there with their sights set on the championship, and forcing a qualifier to face them was akin to sending a minor demon to take down the monk Xuanzang and his disciples.

Sports tournaments, however, are usually efficient, and the results of the draw were released quickly. In the first round, Jiang Hong was paired against the tournament’s fourth seed, a Frenchman named Dechire, ranked 854th in the ATP. Judging by the name, Jiang Hong guessed he was likely a Black man.

When the draw was posted, the other qualifiers looked at Jiang Hong with complex expressions. Some felt pity; after all, it was evident from the previous matches that Jiang Hong was the strongest among them and the most likely to secure points. It seemed he would have to wait for another opportunity. Others, however, felt a sense of schadenfreude—what good is being strong if you are just going to be unceremoniously knocked out in the first round? Perhaps this meant they might have a better chance of advancing and grabbing points themselves.

To be honest, Jiang Hong’s luck was a bit poor, as he was the only one of the four qualifiers to draw a seeded player. Yet, he didn't suspect any foul play. In this day and age, events hosted domestically with international participants were known for their fairness. Jiang Hong felt no disappointment; instead, he was rather excited. After training for so long, he finally had the chance to face a professional player. Based on his current stats, Jiang Hong was already capable of competing on the tour, so he felt no fear toward his opponent.

The ITF $10,000 event in Shanghai offered 1 point for reaching the Round of 16, 2 for the quarterfinals, 4 for the semifinals, 8 for the runner-up, and 12 for the champion. As for the prize money, it was $100 for the Round of 32, $156 for the Round of 16, $254 for the quarterfinals, $490 for the semifinals, $980 for the runner-up, and $1,500 for the winner. Indeed, Jiang Hong had already earned back his registration fee. To cover all his expenses for this trip, he would need to reach at least the quarterfinals. That was only because he didn't have a team—no coach or physical therapist—otherwise, even winning the title would result in a net loss. Only by reaching the tour level could one truly break even.

Jiang Hong returned to his hotel, immediately checked out, and moved into the hotel arranged by the organizing committee. Players who made the main draw were eligible for accommodation and meals. Of course, if they were eliminated, they had to check out the next day. Although Jiang Hong had a few hundred dollars from system rewards, he was still a genuine pauper, so he naturally stayed on-site to save money.

...

Since the qualifiers were a double-header on the first day, the main draw matches began the very next day, posing a significant test of a player’s stamina. Fortunately, Jiang Hong’s two qualifier matches had been relatively easy, as one opponent had retired mid-match.

His match was in the afternoon, and he only caught sight of his opponent fifteen minutes before start time. As expected, the man was nearly two meters tall, solidly built, with a thick beard and a female companion trailing behind. Before the match, he even blew a flying kiss to her.

"Well, another day of being underestimated!"

It wasn't until the referee tossed the coin that the man finally tore his gaze away from his companion.

"Jiang Hong to serve!"

The referee announced the result of the coin toss, and both players walked to their respective baselines. Dechire was only here to farm points; his only goal was the championship. After all, what kind of talent could a "tennis desert" like China possibly have? Upon learning his opponent was a rookie without a ranking, he had completely dismissed him, spending the previous night indulging with the woman he had just met. Now, he just wanted a quick victory so he could go back and sleep.

...

Jiang Hong stood at the baseline, eyes fixed forward. He tapped the ball, contemplating his service line. Without hesitation, after a few rhythmic bounces, he began his serve. A toss, a push off the ground, a swing! With a sharp crack, the ball turned into a green bolt of lightning and shot out. It cleared the net and slammed directly into the inner corner of the service box. The man across the net took two steps and simply stopped—no need to chase a ball he couldn't reach, no need to waste the energy!

Ace! 15:0!

After Zhang Long had lost his match the day before, he had been teased relentlessly by his teammates. He felt indignant; even if his fellow trainees had gone up, they would have been swept just the same! So, he dragged them along that morning. When they heard the opponent's ranking, they had lost heart, as there were only four players in the entire country with a higher ranking than that. However, when they saw Jiang Hong’s serve, they were all astonished.

"That serve is something else!"

"Fast and with such a wicked angle!"

"Yesterday, I was on the receiving end of over twenty aces!" Zhang Long said with a bitter smile. He was one of the victims. Even so, none of them believed Jiang Hong could actually defeat his opponent.

...

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Three aces and one service winner. Jiang Hong was puzzled—what was going on? Was the guy drained? He was moving like a sloth! Jiang Hong even wondered how he had managed to earn those ranking points in the first place.

His opponent, meanwhile, was already cursing under his breath. They told him this was a rookie with no points, so why was a rookie's serve so lethal? In all the satellite and futures tournaments he had played in before, even the champions hadn't served with this kind of intensity.

After the changeover, Dechire stood at the baseline. It was his turn to serve.

"Bang!"

The first serve landed in, though the placement wasn't particularly tricky. Jiang Hong shifted two steps and swung his racket.

"Thwack!"

In that moment, Jiang Hong understood why this guy had ranking points. When his racket collided with the ball, it was nearly knocked out of his hand. 15:0. Jiang Hong estimated that Dechire’s serve was reaching speeds close to 200 kilometers per hour. To be a professional, you must have your own specialized weapons!

Jiang Hong shook out his arm, then stood firm and leaned in to observe his opponent. Seeing his serve had worked, Dechire smirked, feeling smug. After switching to the deuce court, he unleashed another violent serve. When the ball crossed the net and entered his side, Jiang Hong anticipated the landing spot, planted his feet, gripped the racket with both hands, engaged his core, and rotated 90 degrees, driving the swing with his arm.

A flat forehand drive—he smashed the ball right back! Dechire’s movement wasn't exceptional; he relied primarily on raw power. After a brief shuffle, he continued to swing violently, constantly pressuring Jiang Hong’s position in hopes of forcing an error. Yet, Jiang Hong refused to let the ball go, even when pushed deep. The two began a back-and-forth, grinding out a long rally.