Two years ago, Wang Zhuo's pool skill was exactly in the middle—not great, but certainly not terrible. He was somewhat like Wei Xiaobao, usually winning money off minor suckers, but getting utterly thrashed when facing a real master, or simply avoiding them altogether.

In the past two years, he has barely played billiards, yet his skill hasn't declined; if anything, it has improved. This is partly due to the ever-sharper help of his X-ray vision, and partly related to his gradually maturing body, temperament, and life experience.

In certain sports, athletes who are simpler and younger tend to achieve better results faster. But in billiards, a game demanding both intellect and technique, age can sometimes be the very foundation of true ability—and this is especially true for Wang Zhuo.

Two years ago, he could only rely on the trick of "playing the pig to eat the tiger" to win money. Occasionally, when he couldn't fool a 'pig,' he would have to settle for matches where he traded wins and losses with players of similar skill. But now, he possesses at least the top-tier skill level in the city. If he were matched against a few professional-level players for practice, he might rapidly ascend to international standing.

After all, everyone else looks at the balls with their naked eyes and judges based on intuition. He, however, sees the entire layout through his X-ray vision's holographic projection, allowing him a complete overview of the entire table. Furthermore, he is entirely unhindered by environmental factors like lighting, nor misled by visual distortion. As long as he analyzes the required shot and executes it meticulously, success is inevitable.

As for his execution, one only needs to recall the thugs, gangsters, police, and city management officers he has taken down over the years to understand!

At the break-off shot, An Qi presented Wang Zhuo with a genuine problem. She tucked the cue ball right up against a color ball, leaving it blocked. According to the rules of Snooker, Wang Zhuo had to pot a red ball first to score, and with that color ball in the way, pocketing a red was impossible.

The very meaning of Snooker is "obstruction, hindrance." It seemed An Qi, despite her youth, already understood its essence; her skill should not be underestimated!

However, X-ray vision is X-ray vision; it is utterly incomparable to the human eye. After careful calculation, Wang Zhuo discovered a red ball he could pot using a ricochet followed by a transfer shot. But after consideration, he decided not to expose his true ability yet, choosing instead to lie low for a while longer.

This was also a habit developed during his 'playing the pig' days. When he was capable of completely dominating an opponent, he would deliberately make the game look perilous to keep others underestimating his skill, thus enabling them to hand him money.

Crack! The cue ball bounced off the cushion, shot into the pack of reds, bumped against them a few times, and settled perfectly, leaving An Qi with an ideal opportunity to score.

This shot was fairly standard; it didn't exceed anyone's expectations. If he had managed to drive the cue ball into a dead pocket, it would have been a brilliant shot worthy of applause. As it turned out, it could only be chalked up to bad luck—after all, not everyone possesses Higgins' skill.

An Qi smiled faintly, walked over, lined up the shot, and easily sank the red. Simultaneously, the cue ball angled itself into a position where sinking the pink ball (worth six points) would be effortless.

Under Snooker rules, a red is worth only one point. The pink, worth six, was already the second-highest value, second only to the black, worth seven.

Scattered applause rippled through the onlookers. Nearly half the people in the Snooker section had gathered around this table. A thousand yuan per frame wasn't a trivial stake, and with two top players facing off, this match was certainly worth watching.

After potting the pink, An Qi seized the momentum, sinking another red, and then, with a rapid series of clinks and clacks, she quickly amassed thirty-six points. Finally, she missed a red—she hadn't controlled the power correctly, pushing the ball just far enough to stop at the lip of the pocket without falling in.

Looking at the improving layout on the table, Wang Zhuo felt a mixture of irritation and amusement. This girl was aiming for a total clearance! What an aggressive tactic!

"A pity, she shouldn't have missed that one."

"She was trying to send the cue ball to line up for the Black Seven, and she got that part right, but she miscalculated the power needed for the preceding red."

"If that ball had gone in, the Black Seven would have been hers next—that would have been forty-four points."

"Impressive. If she hadn't missed, she might have scored over a hundred."

"Let's see how the 'Priest' plays now. The situation favors him greatly!"

Amidst the murmuring discussions, An Qi pouted, shook her head in dissatisfaction, and walked over to a nearby rest chair.

Wang Zhuo surveyed the table situation, gave a faint smile, walked up to the table, and smoothly slotted the red ball stuck at the pocket's edge. The cue ball bounced twice on the table and curved slightly, returning precisely to its original position before he struck.

"Huh? What's going on?"

"He's continuing to play off An Qi's setup!"

"Interesting! That's almost exactly like the shot An Qi just played on that red ball, except now he's the one shooting."

"That looks tough, but I love this style of play!"

Hearing the comments around her, An Qi couldn't help but stand up and scrutinize the situation on the table.

Unfortunately, she had already lost control of the game's flow. Wang Zhuo struck with a powerful shot, sinking the seven-point black ball, while simultaneously sending the cue ball into the densely packed red cluster, scattering them wide open! The table situation was instantly clarified!

"So that was his plan..."

"That clearance shot was handled perfectly, but An Qi absolutely couldn't execute it. Her technique is good, but she lacks the necessary power."

"True. If you can't do it, you naturally wouldn't conceive of it. An Qi is a girl and young; she's at a natural disadvantage in that regard."

As people were talking, Wang Zhuo continued to pot balls according to the one-red-one-color rule, sinking four more balls. However, the colors were all two-point yellows or three-point greens, bringing his total score just over twenty—still trailing An Qi.

Even though his score was temporarily lower, An Qi's brow furrowed slightly. Wang Zhuo's effortless composure was putting significant pressure on her. Furthermore, the cue ball was in his possession, and the table layout favored the player holding control. If Wang Zhuo didn't make a mistake, by the time it was her turn again, the game might already be decided, leaving her with no chance for recovery.

Crack!

Crack, crack!

Crack!

After a flurry of crisp impacts, only the color balls remained, arranged in a cross shape on the table. Wang Zhuo calmly began chalking his tip. An Qi gave a wry smile to the clearly disappointed Liu Yanghe and conceded to Wang Zhuo, "No need to play on. I surrender this frame!"

Wang Zhuo raised an eyebrow and smiled sweetly at the waiter, "Then please re-rack the balls."

"Xiao Qi, are you a match for him?" An Qi nudged her younger sister gently with her elbow and asked softly.

"If he maintains this level of play, I definitely wouldn't stand a chance," An Qi replied with a bitter smile. "Even a professional player from within the country wouldn't be much better than this."

An Qi nodded, unable to decide whether to laugh or cry. She knew well that no one at the Jiba Club could consistently maintain this level of performance. An Qi was one of their pillars, yet she could only achieve this once in a while, usually needing two or three visits to the table. And that didn't even account for complex Snooker safety situations.

Liu Yanghe finally understood now: this newcomer was no joke. If even An Qi couldn't compete, he would only humiliate himself by stepping up. But even though he knew betting more meant losing money, he had to bite the bullet and pay, because losing the game was one thing; refusing to let An Qi even attempt a comeback after just one frame would make him look terribly irresponsible as the financier.

After he painfully produced another thousand yuan, the second frame began, with Wang Zhuo taking the break-off.

Snooker wasn't like Eight-Ball. Wang Zhuo was confident that even if he missed the break, leaving the cue ball to An Qi, she wouldn't have the firepower to clear the table in one go. So, he swung his cue easily, scattered the reds, and returned to his rest chair.

An Qi’s mental fortitude was excellent; losing the first frame hadn't affected her at all. She confidently walked up, performed a delicate and thorough calculation, and smoothly potted a red ball.

An Qi, standing beside Wang Zhuo, nodded approvingly. Although Wang Zhuo was seated and his line of sight couldn't fully cover the table, his X-ray vision allowed him to observe the situation from all angles, and he fully approved of An Qi's shot.

An Qi leaned over again, her slender waist and taut hips perfectly presented toward Wang Zhuo. He took a moment to assess her figure and chuckled softly, shaking his head—too thin!

Just as she was about to strike, An Qi paused, straightened up, and called out, "Xiao Mi, please wipe the cue ball for me."

The waiter-referee, Xiao Mi, immediately stepped forward and carefully polished the white ball. If there was too much chalk residue, it could cause an electrostatic reaction during impact, sometimes swinging the outcome of a match. Although Wang Zhuo rarely played Snooker, he had heard experts on television discuss the importance of cleaning the cue ball.

After the wiping, An Qi bent over again, presenting her less-than-sexy backside, and casually sank the five-point blue ball. Scattered applause erupted once more, accompanied by murmurs of admiration from the surroundings, clearly indicating the difficulty of that shot.

But Wang Zhuo was paying less attention to that; he was sneakily glancing at An Qi standing nearby, inwardly wondering how such a large disparity in physique could exist between two sisters born to the same parents.

While he was lost in these distracting thoughts, An Qi proceeded to sink six more balls consecutively, earning a round of applause. The young woman then took a handkerchief to wipe the bead of sweat from her brow and pulled a pair of glasses from her vest pocket, putting them on.

Glasses?

There were indeed master players who wore glasses—Karen Koel even won a Women's Nine-Ball championship. But those were rare exceptions among exceptions. Only specially customized glasses were truly suited for high-intensity professional pool matches, which was the fundamental reason why amateur champions rarely sported four eyes.

Seeing An Qi put on a pair of cool black-rimmed glasses and pick up her cue again, Wang Zhuo was stunned. At this moment, his thoughts weren't of Dennis Taylor, nor Karen Koel, much less Martin Gould, the 'Glasses Warrior' who defeated Fu Jiajun. Instead, his mind flashed to the ultimate fantasy of any otaku: the Megane Moe girl!

Her narrow phoenix eyes held a contained gleam. A few freckles across her nose were just hidden by the frame of the glasses. Her thin, slightly pursed lips were moist and bright, her delicate nostrils flaring subtly with her breath. When she tilted her head, pressing the cue stick against her cheek as she scrutinized the shooting angle, watching the purple-chestnut cue shaft rest against her face, a powerful surge went through Wang Zhuo's heart. He was instantly and completely overwhelmed by the suggestive beauty of the pose!