Chapter 8: Baseline Backhand Swing

After finishing his run, Jiang Hong ducked into a convenience store to grab a carton of milk; after a workout, one always needs to replenish protein and carbohydrates. After all, exercising without proper intake doesn't make you stronger—it just turns you into a skeleton.

Pushing open the dormitory door, Li Hua turned his head and smirked at him. "Brother Jiang, back from self-torture again?"

"What? Do you want to join me in some self-torture?"

"I think I'll pass. Staying in the dorm and playing games is just fine."

Jiang Hong grabbed his toiletries and rushed toward the bathhouse; if he didn't wash up, the room would soon be filled with the distinct scent of "manliness."

After showering, he lay on his bed, kneaded his sore arms and legs, took out the bottle of body recovery potion, unscrewed the cap, and downed it in one go—sweet and tart, it actually tasted quite good. Accompanied by the "fire in the hole" sound effects from the games being played in the room, he felt his eyelids grow heavy and soon drifted into a deep sleep.

Early the next morning, Jiang Hong opened his eyes and felt completely refreshed. The soreness from yesterday had vanished, and he felt energized enough to run another five kilometers. It was a good thing he had the potion; otherwise, if he kept training like this, he would have been wrecked long ago.

Looking over, his roommates were still on a date with the God of Dreams—since there were no classes today, not sleeping in would be an insult to university life. He climbed out of bed quietly to wash up and nearly bumped his head on the doorframe on his way out.

When did he get so tall? He rummaged through his drawer for a ruler to measure himself. Good grief, he had shot up from 1.79 meters to 1.82 meters! While this height was still considered on the shorter side in the world of tennis, progress was progress. It seemed likely to be the work of yesterday's potion. Jiang Hong smacked his lips, wondering if the system might offer some growth-inducing potions in the future.

Grabbing his racket and two canisters of balls, he bought a savory crepe at the cafeteria and meandered toward the tennis courts. From a distance, he spotted Su Cheng standing at the entrance. Her figure was slender and graceful, and she was clutching a plastic bag, constantly looking around. Anyone passing by might have thought she was meeting someone for a shady deal.

"Is Jiang Hong lying to me?"
"The pay is really quite high, after all!"
"Did he change his mind?"
Su Cheng was beginning to mutter to herself, having not seen a shadow of him until now.

"Su Cheng, you're here early," Jiang Hong called out, raising a hand to greet her.

Hearing his voice, Su Cheng turned around and felt a wave of relief upon seeing Jiang Hong with his racket. "No, I just got here myself!" In reality, she had been waiting for over half an hour.

Jiang Hong loosened his arms. "Alright, let’s not waste time. Shall we start?"

"Sure!" Su Cheng was eager to get to work, especially since there was money to be made.

The courts were deserted at six in the morning. Jiang Hong instructed, "Just pick up the balls I hit over."

The moment he finished speaking, the sound of rhythmic "bang, bang, bang" impacts echoed across the court, like cannonballs striking the ground. Su Cheng didn't know much about tennis, but she thought Jiang Hong was incredibly impressive. If it were her, her arms would have given out after a few dozen swings. Unlike her, Jiang Hong was clearly exhausted, yet he kept pushing through.

Having someone dedicated to picking up the balls made the process highly efficient; Su Cheng always had the balls ready before he finished a round, leaving almost no gaps in his training. With his serving technique also improving, he completed his target of one thousand serves in less than an hour.

[Serves: 998/1000]
[Serves: 999/1000]
[Serves: 1000/1000]

"That's it!" Jiang Hong wiped the sweat from his forehead and stopped.

[Ding! Objective detected as complete. Would you like to claim the reward?]

Jiang Hong ignored the system prompt and, while wiping his sweat, said to Su Cheng, "Let's call it a day here. Same time tomorrow." He held out forty yuan.

Su Cheng didn't take it, shaking her head earnestly. "That's too much. We agreed on two hours, and it's only been one. I can't take this much." Although she really needed the money, she didn't want it to feel like charity.

Jiang Hong laughed when he heard this. "You finished more work in less time. That's essentially shortening the project duration; I should be the one charging you for the efficiency."

Su Cheng was left bewildered, her eyes full of question marks: Was that really how it worked?

"Just take it. If people see a man and a woman fussing over money, they’ll get the wrong idea," Jiang Hong teased. "If I can't find a girlfriend because of this, you’ll have to take responsibility!"

Su Cheng rolled her eyes immediately and took the money from his hand. "I am not taking responsibility for you!"

Since she had accepted the money, Jiang Hong didn't dwell on it. He waved his hand, "Don't worry about it. I'm heading back to the dorm to shower. See you." With that, he turned and walked away, leaving without a backward glance.

...

Because there were no classes all day, Jiang Hong rested in the dorm for a while. Feeling his stamina return, he grabbed his racket and headed out again. After all, Jiang Hong currently had three training tasks to complete. If he didn't pick up the pace, he might fail the mission.

Li Hua watched his frantic energy with amazement. "Old Jiang, you're going out to practice in this heat? You're going to get roasted the color of soy sauce!"

"I told you I'm going pro, don't I have to put in the effort?" Jiang Hong looked back and smiled.

"Fine, then I'll keep all the rackets and tennis balls you use. Once you become a big star, I'll auction them off," Li Hua joked. He had no idea how far away professional tennis actually was; in his mind, it was harder than reaching the heavens. Even the president and vice-president of the tennis club weren't anywhere near that level, let alone Jiang Hong, whose skills used to be on par with his own. Li Hua figured this was just a passing phase for Jiang Hong that would fade before long.

"Sounds like a plan!" Jiang Hong laughed. If someone had told him in the past that they were going to fly a spaceship, he would have laughed at them for dreaming too.

However, he didn't head to the tennis courts. Drilling under the sun in this heat wasn't dedication—it was self-torture. Besides, his midday training didn't require a court—just baseline footwork and shadow swings; any shady spot would do.

He drew a line in the shade of a tree and began his routine: forehand swing, dash, backhand swing, dash... The movements were mechanical and repetitive. Before long, his sweat had completely soaked through his clothes. But the training did not stop.

[150/500 reps]
...
[367/500 reps]
...
[500/500 reps]

The moment the system tone rang, Jiang Hong relaxed his grip, and his racket clattered to the ground. He leaned on his knees, gasping for air, and pulled up the interface to allocate his newly earned attribute points.

[Serve: 55]
[Speed: 53]
[Forehand: 31]
[Backhand: 21]

Seeing the numbers on the panel rise, Jiang Hong felt his efforts were worth it. After catching his breath, he picked up his racket and headed toward the bathhouse.

At seventeen, he was in the prime of his life for an ordinary person, but for a professional tennis player, it wasn't exactly early. Many geniuses had already won Grand Slams by eighteen or nineteen, and he didn't even have a single ranking point yet. Federer was still in his prime with a few years to go, and Djokovic was about to enter his. The prelude to the era of the "Big Three" was about to begin, and Jiang Hong hoped to be a part of it.

But for now, the only thing he needed to consider was whether to have a rice bowl or noodles for lunch!

In the end, he chose the rice bowl because the other stall required a fifteen-minute wait for fresh preparation. After eating, Jiang Hong finally returned to his dormitory.