In the game of snooker, the highest possible break is 147 points, commonly known as a "maximum break." Achieving this score demands an almost impossibly exacting standard for every single shot.

First, for the initial thirty pots, players must alternate between potting a red ball and the black ball. Under the rules of snooker, any colored ball potted before all reds are cleared must be returned to its spot on the table; therefore, only the black seven-point ball remains on the table, and it can be potted repeatedly.

After those thirty balls, the score reaches one hundred and twenty points. Then, the remaining colors must be potted sequentially by ascending value, from the yellow to the black, totaling twenty-seven points, making up the full 147.

How difficult is this feat? So difficult that every 147 break made in a formal competition is officially certified and recorded in the annals of snooker history!

Of course, Wang Zhuo’s 147 break was merely in an informal challenge match, not even a sanctioned competition, so it could never receive official certification. Even so, it utterly stunned everyone present!

One must understand that very few players in the entire country possess the ability to compile a 147 break. To date, the only Chinese player to have recorded a 147 in a formal match is Ding Junhui. This pinnacle achievement in snooker means that for many, not only is it unattainable, but they may never even witness it once in their lifetime!

Yet, this achievement that people dared not even dream of was happening right here, today, during an informal spar at the Jiba Club. It was unfolding before their very eyes, leaving the onlookers speechless with shock.

Applause! Thunderous applause! Although there were fewer than fifty people watching, every single one understood billiards and loved the sport. They knew what a 147 meant—it was the ultimate dream of any pool enthusiast. Even if one could never achieve it personally, simply having witnessed such a match made the entire trip worthwhile!

To achieve a 147 break, skill, luck, and on-the-spot performance are all indispensable elements. Every 147 break involves an element of luck, but every 147 break is executed through skill! This means that the ability Wang Zhuo displayed in this frame absolute reached an international top-tier professional standard. Considering he cleared the table from the break-off shot, not only would Zhao Zijun, a mid-level professional, have been defeated, but even world-class players like Ding Junhui, Williams, or Higgins would have been utterly vanquished, as they never even got a chance to take a shot!

"Damn, this guy isn't human! One hundred and forty-seven points!"

"I can occasionally manage a single-visit clearance of eight balls, but clearing the entire snooker table in one go—I wouldn't even dare dream of that!"

"He must be possessed, absolutely possessed."

"My god, someone needs to check my eyes; after watching this frame, I’m afraid to even pick up a cue again!"

"Zhao Zijun lost without any shame. What kind of player is Williams? If he played this match, he wouldn't even touch the cue ball!"

"Handsome, can I get an autograph? You might just be the first world champion signature I ever collect!"

...

Amidst the roaring conversation, Wang Zhuo wiped the sweat from his brow with his sleeve and let out a satisfied, soft breath.

Never mind that billiards is considered a gentleman's sport; concentrating during a match is incredibly draining on one’s physical stamina. Think about Go players, who engage in pure mental competition yet sometimes suffer total exhaustion. Pool demands a perfect fusion of both mental acuity and physical endurance to achieve results.

Just as he was about to say something to the stunned Zhao Zijun, a flash of red suddenly lunged at him from beside him. Immediately, his body was embraced, and a kiss landed sharply on his left cheek.

The one offering the kiss was none other than An Qi, sister of An Qi. Her current emotional state was one of absolute fervor; her admiration for Wang Zhuo had reached an apex, prompting this unrestrained gesture of affection!

If only there were more young spectators present, Wang Zhuo would surely have heard shrieks like, "Father, I love you!" Young people are always impulsive. After this single frame, who knows how many young men and women might start professing their love for him? As for why young men might profess love—well, in this era, the natural order seems upside down, you understand.

As An Qi's body pressed against him, Wang Zhuo's first impression was how slender and light she felt. However, apart from those two attributes, he didn't feel the bony stiffness that Fei Long had mentioned. He supposed it might be because she was wearing thicker clothes for winter.

But the young woman’s lips were quite pleasant—thin, yet cool and soft, carrying a faint, sweet fragrance. Wang Zhuo rather enjoyed the sensation!

To avoid another unwelcome reaction, Wang Zhuo patted An Qi’s shoulder and then turned to Zhao Zijun with a smile, saying, "Fourteen-seven thousand, old rules—money first, then we play."

Zhao Zijun’s smile looked worse than a grimace. He shook his head and sighed, "I’ll pay right now, but I forfeit the next two frames. I’m done playing."

Wang Zhuo chuckled and asked, "Forfeit? Then how do we settle the score?"

Taking a men's shoulder bag from an assistant, Zhao Zijun unzipped it and inverted the bag, letting a cascade of pink banknotes tumble out. He sighed bitterly, "This is what I won these past two days, about forty thousand more. It’s all yours. How’s that?"

"Deal," Wang Zhuo agreed readily, pointing at him. "I admire your willingness to accept defeat when you make a bet."

Zhao Zijun managed a dry laugh, thinking to himself that Wang Zhuo really loved his money. But the loss wasn't unwarranted; for a professional player, experiencing a complete dismantling by an opponent was a rare and valuable lesson. Forty thousand yuan was a small price to pay.

"Let's exchange contact information," Zhao Zijun said, instructing his assistant to gather the cash and hand it to Wang Zhuo. "I'll ask you for guidance sometime."

"Okay," Wang Zhuo casually took the banknotes and pocketed them. He picked up a notepad and a ballpoint pen from the side table, jotted down his mobile number, tore off the slip, and handed it to him.

"Then I'll take my leave now," Zhao Zijun bowed with a wry smile. "Though I lost this frame, frankly, I’ve benefited greatly. I need to find a quiet spot quickly to review everything."

After bidding farewell to Wang Zhuo with a bow, Zhao Zijun departed, losing honorably. Although he hadn't even taken a single shot at the Jiba Club, as the direct witness to that 147 maximum break, it wouldn't be long before all the local pool enthusiasts knew his name.

"On the night of the full moon, atop the Purple Forbidden City, a sword descends from the west, the celestial fairy descends from the heavens." The legendary duel between Ximen Chuixue and Ye Gucheng remains a timeless classic in Gu Long's novels. A truly brilliant story is magnified by the brilliance of its supporting characters; if the "Father" had only defeated some unknown rookie at the Jiba Club, the circulating tale would lose at least half its luster. Thus, even if Zhao Zijun were truly a novice, he would be hyped up as one of the top experts in the city.

Furthermore, Zhao Zijun was already recognized as one of the city's top players, and uniquely, the only one working professionally in the UK, having come specifically to the Jiba Club to issue a challenge. Therefore, the names of both men were destined to be recorded in the history books of this city’s billiards development.

Zhao Zijun left, but Wang Zhuo found himself surrounded by the crowd—shaking hands, posing for photos, and someone even produced a permanent marker and offered their cue stick for his autograph.

What should he sign? Unable to refuse the fervor, Wang Zhuo took the marker, paused for a moment, and signed the English word "king" on the cue stick—meaning ruler or monarch—since his surname was Wang anyway, requiring little creativity.

The dominance of "king" was evident. If Zhao Zijun had signed it, many might have been unconvinced, but coming from the hand of the "Father" who had just delivered a 147 maximum break, everyone was utterly convinced!

"I thought you might sign 'father,'" An Qi said, offering her own cue stick, smiling playfully at Wang Zhuo.

After Wang Zhuo hit the 147, her attitude toward him executed a complete 360-degree reversal. Her look of reverence was undisguised; the faint air of aloofness she once possessed was replaced by warmth and friendliness. A light sheen of perspiration, brought on by excitement, beaded on the bridge of her nose above her glasses, making her appear even more charmingly petite.

"Then I'll sign something different for you."

Wang Zhuo gave her a dashing smile, then, with a flourish, he wrote the English word representing Father in bold, sweeping strokes: father. An Qi took the cue stick and happily pursed her lips, blowing gently on the inscription to help it dry faster.

The ballpoint pen was new, and the ink flowed generously. Others who received Wang Zhuo's signature did the same, but none did it as well as An Qi, because watching the bespectacled moe girl purse her thin lips and blow hard on the thick purple cue stick caused Wang Zhuo a moment of mental disorientation.

Next came the celebration. The owner of the Jiba Club was out, but the female manager, after a brief phone consultation, unexpectedly presented Wang Zhuo with a bonus of ten thousand yuan. She even arranged for a group photo with all the witnesses and Wang Zhuo, clearly intending to enlarge and hang it on the wall as a symbol of the club's honor and memory.

In addition, she issued Wang Zhuo a VIP card—and this was no flimsy card handed out on every street corner like those at beauty salons—but a true VIP pass granting free privileges at the Jiba Club. From now on, anytime Wang Zhuo came to play, no matter how many frames he used, it would be free!

Wang Zhuo was familiar with this kind of tactic; it was simply leveraging celebrity status to boost the club's visibility and popularity. Many clubs in major cities often issue the same VIP cards to stars, playing the same game.

But one good turn deserves another. The Jiba Club wasn't taking advantage of him; their return was quite generous. Although Wang Zhuo didn't care much for the honor or the ten thousand yuan, he accepted it all with good cheer.

As a result, Wang Zhuo, who had left home that morning with not a penny, now possessed over fifty thousand yuan in assets, including the few thousand he won from An Qi and Liu Yanghe, the ten thousand reward from the club, and the over forty thousand lost by Zhao Zijun. While the speed of his earnings might not match true gambling, it was still astonishing!

"Beautiful ladies, would you honor me with lunch?" Wang Zhuo offered the An Qi sisters a gentlemanly smile. Men, once they have money, tend to get romantic. It was time to court the ladies!

"That sounds great, I'll treat you!" An Qi laughed. "It’s already half-past one, so the restaurants won't be too crowded."

"How can I let you pay when I just won all this?" Wang Zhuo chuckled, patting his bulging pocket.

An Qi smiled sincerely. "Actually, my sister and I would like to apprentice under you, especially An Qi. She wants to become a professional player, but she’s never managed to find a proper mentor."