Prince of Tennis: I am a manager at Hyotei

"What! Just hitting the ball right from the start! Too...too exciting, right?"

Kirihara began to speak incoherently.

Liu calmly held down Qiyuan's shaking little head.

"The opponent is the strongest player currently, so it makes sense for him to use the light ball at the beginning."

While taking care of the children, Liu did not forget to update his database.

The light ball that was once able to knock people away is nothing compared to Borg.

Borg's movements were as casual as if he was receiving a very ordinary serve.

The light ball was hit by Borg, but Byodoin did not find it strange. Instead, it carried out the next action as usual and fought back.

"Fought...fought back...that Borg was awesome."

"Nonsense, he's the strongest active player! No, why should I praise him? No, no, we should cheer for the boss!"

The middle school students were surprised at the calmness with which the two fought.

Why does it seem a little different from the tennis they play?

The two of them were calm as if this was just a simple practice match.

It would be even more similar if there weren't the exaggerated billowing smoke at the scene.

(Continue writing no more than 355 words)

As everyone marveled at the sight, Byodoin's lips curled slightly. "Finally, something interesting is happening." He flashed, appearing like a ghost at the ball's impact point. With a sharp swing of his racket, a ball shimmering with purple light shot towards Borg like a meteor. Borg's eyes lit up. "That's right!" He leaped high, his arm muscles flexing as he struck with such force that the ball returned even faster, its trajectory becoming even more treacherous. Byodoin, however, remained calm. His legs swiftly moved, and he reached the edge of the court in an instant. He leaned back, almost touching the ground, and forcefully hit the ball back. The ball traced a dazzling arc through the air, sending the surrounding air surging. The audience's hearts were in their throats, and everyone held their breath, staring intently at the court. The middle school students were filled with awe; this level of competition was beyond their imagination. Meanwhile, Liu was completely absorbed, his pen scribbling data, knowing that every detail of this match was a valuable asset. As the ball shuttled back and forth, the atmosphere in the field became increasingly tense.

Borg's face lit up with an excited smile, and a strange vibration began to emanate from his body. "Looks like I'll have to show my true skills," he whispered. With a slight twist of his racket, the ball split into three, each striking towards Byodoin from a different angle. Byodoin's eyes glared, and his aura suddenly intensified. With a loud shout, his racket transformed into a phantom, hitting all three balls simultaneously and sending them flying back. The balls collided in the air, sending up a shower of dazzling sparks.

At that moment, the sky outside the arena suddenly darkened, gathering dark clouds. A flash of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a howling wind. But the two players inside remained unfazed, remaining focused on the game. The middle school students clung to the fence, watching with a mixture of fear and excitement.

Suddenly, Byodoin leaped into the air, his entire body radiating a powerful aura. He unleashed his hidden special move, a massive energy ball appearing on the racket, blasting towards Borg. Borg's face was solemn, his feet planted on the ground, ready to meet the blow with all his might.

Borg gripped his racket tightly, muttering something to himself. An invisible force formed a shield in front of him. The energy ball from Byodoin collided with the shield, erupting with a deafening roar and a burst of light. However, the shield didn't break, and Borg seized the opportunity to counterattack. He gathered his strength in his feet, pushed off the ground, and rushed towards Byodoin like a cannonball.

Byodoin had no time to land and adjust, so he could only turn around in the air. At this moment, Borg's attack suddenly changed direction. It turned out that he was feinting.