The skill level of Liu Yanghe, judging by the fact he still dared to issue a challenge after witnessing Wang Zhuo's prowess, suggested he was at least competent.

But his luck was clearly quite poor, as he wasn't challenging just anyone, but Wang Zhuo, who had been making a living off billiards two years prior and now possessed the advantage of X-ray vision!

Sure enough, in the second frame, he broke. A single, clean strike scattered the balls, yet not a single one pocketed. The cue ball and the yellow number one solid ball formed a straight line aimed directly at the center pocket, eliciting murmurs of regret from the onlookers.

Wang Zhuo calmly approached, sinking the one-ball with effortless precision. He used the cue ball to scatter a few clustered solids, then easily sank another ball, clearing the table.

The entire sequence took less than three minutes. Liu Yanghe's second thousand yuan had vanished!

"Next frame!"

He slapped another thousand yuan onto the table, watching with eyes nearly bulging as Wang Zhuo casually pocketed eight hundred, then handed two hundred over to An Qi.

"Da Qu, that's enough, you should call it a night. You're no match for him."

"Yeah, Yanghe, this kid is spooky. Even if he was just lucky that last shot, I think his skill is still above yours."

"Fight him! I refuse to believe he can clear the table in one shot every frame!"

"Yanghe, let me take a shot after this one!"

Amidst the chatter, the waiter was already racking the balls. Wang Zhuo noticed a minute movement as he gathered the triangle rack—the two balls at the bottom of the triangle had shifted away by a few millimeters.

Even a mere three millimeters, invisible unless you were standing right over it, would completely alter the geometry. If Wang Zhuo tried the same opening shot as the first frame, it would now be near impossible.

It seemed this waiter had some prior connection with Liu Yanghe. Wang Zhuo smiled inwardly, feigning ignorance. He walked to the break end, stood in an open stance, and in an instant, his X-ray vision transformed into a spatial geometry analyzer, calculating the impact force, rebound trajectories, and every potential outcome.

Crack! Thud!

The crisp sounds of the cue striking the ball and the subsequent collisions echoed, and the sixteen porcelain balls began to move. Liu Yanghe felt a surge of hope: this ball won't go in!

Experienced players possess this near-instinctive intuition. Just as he suspected, after a chaotic flurry, the table settled, and all sixteen balls remained in play.

"Huh?"

"Oh dear, that ball..."

"This will be tough, just watch."

Surprise and sighs rippled through the crowd. Liu Yanghe's brief joy evaporated, replaced by a tightly furrowed brow.

The reason was simple: the cue ball was now resting tightly against the edge of the long side cushion, more than half a meter away from the nearest object ball. There was one ball near the far corner pocket that could potentially be struck, but for the cue ball to glide that distance along the cushion without deviating required a precision even Ding Junhui would call fifty-fifty.

However, nobody suspected the shot was intentional, as no one believed Wang Zhuo could achieve such precise cue ball placement off a medium-strength break. This was skill far beyond an amateur player's capabilities.

To put it mildly, even a top professional might not guarantee that shot, given the significant discrepancy between amateur tables and international competition standards, where slight errors are magnified!

Liu Yanghe frowned for a long moment before choosing a conservative play. He ignored the tricky edge ball Wang Zhuo had inadvertently set up for him, opting instead for a bank shot off the densest cluster of balls. Using moderate force, he aimed to wedge the cue ball between the solids, leaving Wang Zhuo a difficult situation.

"Great shot!"

Applause erupted, honoring Liu Yanghe's skill and decision. The shot succeeded exactly as planned: the cue ball now nestled between three object balls. Only the black eight-ball still had a viable path, as all others were packed too tightly to shoot—impossible to slip a needle between them.

Although the eight-ball was a solid color, it was the match-deciding ball. The saying went: the eight-ball makes you or breaks you; sinking it prematurely meant instant defeat!

Liu Yanghe let out a breath, casting a challenging look at Wang Zhuo. He was perfectly satisfied, feeling he had pushed his limits with that defense.

Just as everyone wondered how Wang Zhuo would manage to return such a difficult problem, they watched him simply smile calmly, walk to the table, lean over without even aiming, and send the cue ball smashing into the eight-ball.

The black eight rocketed toward the corner pocket. A nervous female spectator even cried out. Before anyone could process the situation, the eight-ball slid into the pocket, but due to excessive force, it bounced out with a bang, striking a blue number ten ball near the cushion and sending it into the opposite corner pocket!

"Whoa, that actually worked!"

"Beginner's luck, pure luck!"

"That's incredible, how is that possible?"

All four sides were stunned. Wang Zhuo stood up, looking genuinely surprised, scratching his head, and laughing toward An Qi, "I just wanted to tease you by aiming for the eight, but I managed to fluke that other one in."

An Qi giggled. For a split second, as the eight-ball careened toward the pocket, she had genuinely worried about her two hundred yuan. But half a second later, the tables had turned: the eight bounced out and accidentally sunk another color ball!

"Does that count?" Wang Zhuo cheerfully asked Liu Yanghe. In a standard game, a fluked ball counts, but some underground games disavow lucky shots, so he sought Liu Yanghe's opinion.

"It counts!" Liu Yanghe bit out, nodding grimly. Although the terms hadn't been officially set before the match, the games at Jiba Club followed standard rules. He couldn't change the rules for one shot; he couldn't afford to lose face!

Seeing his nod, Wang Zhuo grinned widely. "Then I won't hold back."

Crack!

Thwack, thwack, thwack!

A few crisp shots cleared the table. Liu Yanghe's thousand yuan was gone again...

As Liu Yanghe sullenly reached for his wallet, a tall, slender young woman stepped forward, smiling. "Brother Da Qu, you rest a bit. I'll take a couple of frames against him."

Liu Yanghe hesitated for a moment, then grunted, "Fine. If you lose, it's on me!"

"Thank you first, Brother Da Qu. If I win, we split it fifty-fifty," the girl nodded with a smile.

Wang Zhuo glanced at the girl's attire and the badge on her chest, amused. "Are you eighteen yet? Child labor?"

The girl flashed him a grin. "Brother, why be so serious? I can always borrow an ID card from a friend."

Now this was interesting! Wang Zhuo detected a spark of similarity between them—a shared air of composure and easy-going irreverence. He mused that if not for the few freckles dotting her nose, she might have been quite a pretty girl.

Like An Qi, the girl wore the coach uniform: slacks, a white shirt, and a deep-red vest, complete with a numbered name tag on her chest. Yet, she looked no older than seventeen. Furthermore, she wasn't the perfectly proportioned or curvy type Wang Zhuo preferred; she was the ultra-slim, almost skeletal type currently favored by young people—thin arms, thin legs, flat chest, flat rear.

While that figure looked best on camera, like runway models, in real life, she was merely 'interesting,' not 'sexy.' Wang Zhuo recalled Fatty Long saying such women were useless in bed—all bone, no feel; hugging one at night felt like embracing a skeleton, guaranteed to inspire nightmares!

"I can't beat you at the eight-ball game, so how about we switch to Snooker?" the girl suggested with a gentle smile.

Wang Zhuo shrugged indifferently. "Sure. How much are we playing for?"

"A thousand again," the girl said, her gaze flicking toward the money Wang Zhuo held, seemingly calculating how many frames it would take to reclaim it all.

Wang Zhuo instantly laughed. He had just used that exact tactic on Liu Yanghe; now a young girl was turning it back on him—this was a blatant provocation!

"Hey? I just realized something, you two look quite alike," he suddenly noted, glancing between An Qi and the newcomer.

"I'm her older sister, her biological sister," An Qi introduced with a smile. "This is An Qi. The 'Qi' character is the one with the radical for 'king' added for no good reason."

Wang Zhuo's forehead immediately darkened. This was absurd—different names, yet identical pronunciation!

But if they were biological sisters, he thought, their figures were too disparate, only sharing vague facial similarities. Could genetics have randomly favored one parent for each? He suddenly wished his X-ray vision could perform a paternity test!

Walking over to an empty table in the Snooker section, Wang Zhuo eyed An Qi’s self-assured composure and felt a sudden, petty urge to stir trouble. "An Qi, you aren't from a minority group, are you? How much did the Family Planning Office fine your family?"

An Qi stopped dead in her tracks, startled. An Qi, standing nearby, spoke up sharply. "You worry too much. We are half-sisters, same father, different mothers. We weren't subject to fines!"

"Oh!" Wang Zhuo adopted an expression of sudden understanding, which was, in fact, genuine enlightenment. No wonder the sisters shared similar features but vastly different body types—they weren't born of the same mother!

"Don't think you're so great just because you beat my sister," An Qi, knowing Wang Zhuo was deliberately trying to distract her, retorted crossly. "She learned billiards from me. We'll settle things on the scoreboard in a bit!"

This statement made Wang Zhuo temper his condescension. He recalled martial arts lore stating there were three types of people one should never provoke in the Jianghu: children, women, and monastics. If such people weren't skilled, they’d have been wiped out long ago; therefore, they must possess surprising hidden talents!

An Qi fit two of those three categories—she was both a child and a woman. The fact that she coached at a billiard club and dared challenge Wang Zhuo after seeing his skill meant she was not to be trifled with!

After flipping a coin, An Qi broke the first Snooker frame. Wang Zhuo watched her meticulously inspect the cue ball, curiosity piqued. These sisters should have been pursuing careers as a police officer and a student, respectively. What catastrophe brought them both to work as coaches in a billiard hall? What had happened around them?