Chapter Six: The Refined and Amiable Veteran of the Forum!

“Bang!”

[Serve: 1000/1000]

Jiang Hong rubbed his aching wrist. Although his body was exhausted, the rewards were even more substantial.

System rewards received.

Without hesitation, Jiang Hong immediately invested the system-granted skill points into his serve.

[49 → 51]

“Tch, cheating really feels great,” he muttered, shaking his wrist. Judging by the pace, his serve attribute would soon break the 60-point barrier, reaching the threshold of a professional player.

It’s worth noting that even professional players aren’t monsters with maxed-out stats. Most hopefuls in tournaments and challengers would be grateful to have three or four attributes surpassing 60.

The differences in players’ strengths and weaknesses across various skills are precisely why their performances vary greatly on different courts.

Some might reach the Wimbledon finals but get knocked out in the second round of the French Open.

From the system’s attribute breakdown, it was clear they intended to push him toward becoming a versatile all-rounder.

After finishing training, Jiang Hong examined his racket carefully.

A racket enhanced by the system was truly different—normally, even a top-tier racket’s strings would have deformed or snapped long before a thousand serves, but his racket’s strings looked just as good as when he bought it yesterday, almost brand new.

“I say, Old Jiang, you’ve even got a ball boy, and you’re still milking me?” Li Hua stood with hands on his hips, panting heavily, a look of indignation on his face.

“Su Cheng is working at the cafeteria today, so you’re just picking on me alone?” Jiang Hong faced Li Hua’s protests without the slightest worry.

“That’s because the situation’s special. Dinner’s on me—braised chicken or pork knuckle rice, take your pick!”

Li Hua was silent for a moment before suddenly looking up with a determined expression, as if about to squeeze Jiang Hong dry.

“Add a bottle of ice-cold Coke!”

“Unlimited!” Jiang Hong patted his chest in agreement.

In the end, the two of them headed to their usual spot for braised chicken with rice.

Back in the dormitory, lying on his bed, Jiang Hong pondered over his situation. With the ball-picking problem solved, training efficiency could be greatly improved, leaving him with more free time.

The immediate priority was to fill the remaining empty suggestion slots.

But that required others to offer suggestions first.

Li Hua was hopeless in that regard!

Wang Li, however, was a potential source of advice. While his skills weren’t top-notch, he had undergone system training and might possibly offer some useful suggestions.

“No, no!” Jiang Hong shook his head. In recent encounters at the tennis court, Wang Li’s expression clearly showed he had caught on.

He needed to find a way to generate new ideas!

Just then, the voices of a few roommates drifted over from the next bed.

“Did you guys hear? The Spring Bar and Emperor Bar had a fierce online clash recently!”

“I heard! Spring Bar got flooded with over a hundred thousand posts and was immediately banned!”

Jiang Hong’s eyes suddenly brightened. “Right! Tieba!”

He recalled how, in later times, some bloggers posted videos seeking advice to change their fortunes. Although platforms like Douyin, Xiaohongshu, and Bilibili didn’t exist yet, Tieba was a legendary social platform!

At this time, Tieba wasn’t the half-dead forum it would later become; daily activity was astonishingly high, with countless experts lurking. Perhaps he could really dig up some solid advice.

Jiang Hong sprang up and booted up his computer, quickly navigating to the tennis forum. His fingers flew over the keyboard.

He crafted a flashy, attention-grabbing title: “Reviving Men’s Tennis Glory — Our Unshirkable Duty!”

Then the main post: “A 17-year-old prodigy, less than a year into training, determined to beat Federer with his fists, Nadal with his feet, sweep Djokovic aside, and claim Grand Slam titles! Seeking technical improvement advice—brothers, speak up!”

Based on his years of internet experience, a post without a striking title would get no views; nobody watches a dead thread.

He deliberately adopted an arrogant tone to attract eyeballs.

After posting, he closed the page—his account was brand new, so instant replies were unlikely.

Waiting was pointless; better to rest a while.

…

Inside the tennis forum, a user named “TennisKid” just typed a line: “When you hit the ball, use your body’s rotational power, don’t struggle against yourself!”

This user’s real name was Wang Shijie. He had trained in tennis since childhood and competed in youth tournaments, once dreaming of becoming a world champion.

Unfortunately, the more he played, the more he realized how crucial talent was. Eventually, he accepted reality, gave up the pro path, and became a youth tennis coach.

He was also a small moderator in the tennis forum, regularly posting replies, occasionally attracting a couple of students, and was considered a minor “expert.”

After answering a newbie’s question, Wang Shijie scrolled down and saw a new post titled “Reviving Men’s Tennis Glory — Our Unshirkable Duty!”

He paused, wondering: Could there be a new tennis prodigy in the country?

He hadn’t heard anything… If a promising talent truly emerged—

He felt a flicker of hope.

But upon opening the post, Wang Shijie was dumbfounded.

Federer currently held 10 Grand Slam titles, a four-time consecutive Wimbledon champion, firmly world number one.

Nadal had a three-peat at the French Open, undisputed king of clay.

Even Djokovic, slightly behind, had Masters titles and reached the Wimbledon semifinals, but that was just in comparison to those two tennis giants.

Such heights were unimaginable for men’s tennis in Asia—remember, the best Asian male tennis results only reached the quarterfinals, and before Jiang Hong’s time travel, China’s best Grand Slam performance was stuck at the round of 32.

“Is the poster here to do stand-up comedy?” Wang Shijie silently liked the post first.

“Revive men’s tennis glory? Has men’s tennis ever had glory?”

The comment section below exploded:

“Been training a year? Suggest you first find a club coach and play a match to see your real level—stop living in a dream, brother.”

“+3, seconded.”

“Grand Slams? If China men’s tennis manages a round of 32 in a Grand Slam within fifty years, I’ll light incense.”

“Standard fifteen-character comment: Get some experience and then disappear.”

“Honestly, start over, mate.”

“Brother, which tennis court are you dreaming at? Federer’s backhand would slap you against the wall and you wouldn’t even get up; Djokovic at the baseline would make you question your life—oh wait, you don’t even have a chance to play against them.”

“Better go play the seniors’ group with the elderly at your neighborhood court. Win two games and then come brag. Your bragging level is just beginner here. Talking about slapping and kicking? I think you’re more likely to be hung by the net and beaten!”

“The last time I saw someone brag this much, it was an old man in the village claiming he could outrun Liu Xiang. You two should team up for a bragging contest—you’d definitely win!”

Wang Shijie wanted to join the roasting but, seeing the polite yet cutting comments from other forum users, decided not to pour fuel on the fire lest he harshly offend someone.

Perhaps this user “Listening Little Jiang” was just a clueless beginner, completely unaware of reality.

When their skills improve in the future, they’d probably want to bury themselves in a hole when looking back at this post.

After some thought, Wang Shijie decided to offer some genuine advice and urged the poster to practice more.

His fingers flew over the keyboard, lines of text appearing swiftly…