Chapter 62: The Unrivaled King of Swagger

"Enough talk! Come on, girl, let your brother show you his signature kissing technique. Close your eyes and enjoy it to the fullest."
A number of young men couldn’t wait any longer and had already leaned in toward He Meixuan, but she quickly held them off with her hand and exclaimed, "What’s the rush? At least wait until my boyfriend finishes this round, okay?"
"Come on, the outcome is obvious—do we even need to wait?"
"Exactly! It’s plain as day. Why waste everyone’s time? Our time is precious."
Some grew impatient, but seeing her insist, they had no choice but to restrain themselves a little longer. After all, she was right: even if the ending was a foregone conclusion, they still had to wait for that poser to finish his shot.
Soon, the crowd urged Chen Yufeng impatiently, "Hey kid, hurry up and play! What are you spacing out for? Did you get stunned? Did you really think the legendary Ossney’s title was a joke?"
"Let me tell you, idiot, it’s too late to regret now. Stop wasting our time and get on with it."
"Kid, how about you give up now? We’ll even pool together a few million for you. What do you say?"
Chen Yufeng calmly swept his gaze across these people, his face still bearing that serene, unruffled look. He walked over and casually picked up a cue. Seeing him grab the cue, He Meixuan immediately leaned in and whispered in his ear,
"Hey, Little Feng, don’t make a scene—keep it low-key, just scare them off and that’s enough."
"Don’t worry, I’ll keep it subtle," Chen Yufeng replied softly.
Li Teling, standing nearby, was speechless. Beating people up right in front of me—does he not see this cop standing here?
She quickly stepped forward, glared at Chen Yufeng, and snapped, "What are you waiting for? Hurry up and leave, don’t cause trouble."
"The game’s not over yet. Let me finish this shot first."
Of course, Chen Yufeng wanted to finish this shot and show off, raking in reward points and votes.
"What’s left to play for? With your skills, aren’t you embarrassed? You just love stirring things up," Li Teling scolded, rolling her eyes at him. No one knows your skills better than me—so what are you showing off for in front of all these people? Playing with us is one thing, but flaunting it here? You’re just asking for humiliation.
"Uh..."
Chen Yufeng shrugged, and without another word, looked around at the audience and shouted, "I think playing shot by shot is too slow—it’s like watching a turtle crawl. What kind of billiards is that?"
"What do you mean?"
The young men and wealthy patrons were puzzled. An enthusiastic billiards fan yelled, "Hey, kid, what are you talking about? If you don’t play shot by shot, how else do you play? Tell me!"
"God, is this guy insane? He’s determined to show off to the bitter end. Is he trying to win the Poseur of the Year award?"

Everyone knows snooker is played by potting a red ball, then a colored ball, alternating back and forth—this is the standard.
But Chen Yufeng found it tedious and slow, lacking flair, so he smiled at the crowd and explained,
"My meaning is simple: I want to clear the table in a single shot. Just one stroke—does that count as a win?"
"One shot to clear the table? You mean potting all twenty-two balls on the table at once? Is that what you’re saying?"
"Yes, exactly," Chen Yufeng replied naturally, full of confidence.
"You... say that again?"
The crowd couldn’t believe their ears, straining to listen, eyes wide in disbelief.
"What’s wrong? Is it not allowed for me to clear the table in one shot?"
Chen Yufeng’s face was lit with a confident smile, as if he were describing something simple, something anyone could do with a flick of the wrist.
Damn!
Is this guy for real? Is he planning to take his bragging to the highest level? Can he be any more ridiculous?
I swear, I wish I could cut him down with a single strike!
After Chen Yufeng’s confident reply, everyone in the room saw him as a complete clown.
One shot to clear the table?
Not the kind where you keep potting ball after ball in consecutive shots—plenty of experts can do that. Ossney just did so earlier; for him, it’s not even that difficult, as long as he’s in good form.
But this guy claimed he’d clear the table with a single stroke, potting all the balls at once. What does that even mean?
Such a feat has never happened in the history of snooker. No matter how skilled or lucky you are, it’s impossible. Potting five or six balls in one go is already miraculous.
Yet here he was, claiming he’d do it in one shot, saying it with a straight face.
Isn’t that the definition of a clown?
Despite the scorn and ridicule, Chen Yufeng remained unfazed, still calm and confident, "Let me ask you: if I clear the table in one shot, does that count as a win?"
"I can’t take it anymore. Damn, you really just spit out whatever nonsense comes to mind. Were you raised on a diet of arrogance? Would you die if you stopped showing off?"
"Did you escape from a mental hospital? If I hear another word from you, it’ll be an insult to my ears."

Without question, Chen Yufeng’s words were seen as pure, unadulterated boasting. Someone even threw an insole at him, and a few of the girls who’d been hired to play couldn’t take it anymore, tossing their bras at him on the spot.
"What the hell is Little Feng doing now?"
He Meixuan and Li Teling felt as if a thousand wild horses were stampeding through their minds. After the nicknames ‘Genius’ and ‘Super Noob,’ they now gave Chen Yufeng a new moniker: ‘The Invincible Show-off.’
With skills like his, does he really want to play?
What is he pretending for? This time, he’s really overdoing it.
He Meixuan kept sending signals with her eyes, but Chen Yufeng ignored her.
He couldn’t be bothered with the crowd, and simply strode over to Ossney, smiling as he asked, "Master, may I ask, as I just said, if I clear the table in one shot, does that count as a win?"
"Hmph, your arrogance is frightening,"
Ossney sneered dismissively, fixing Chen Yufeng with a stern glare. "Are all Chinese so fond of boasting? The size of your brag is beyond normal—you could blow a train into the sky. Idiot."
"That’s not necessarily true," Chen Yufeng replied, smiling with confidence.
"Hmph, shameless brat. Then why haven’t you started? Are you afraid to make a fool of yourself?"
Ossney was losing patience. He now felt that playing against such a person was an insult to himself. One shot to clear the table?
What a joke—an enormous joke.
Chinese people just love to brag, huh? Is this even possible?
"Heh."
Chen Yufeng chuckled, carelessly replying, "Why the rush? You took nearly half an hour; I’ve only just begun. Dealing with trash like you, a few seconds is all I need."
"What? You..."
Ossney’s chest seized up, almost spitting blood with rage. He wished he could smash Chen Yufeng with his cue. The crowd felt the same urge—‘a few seconds is all I need’?
Does he think he’s a god?