Prince of Tennis: The Emperor's Eye

Chapter 260: Chapter 70: Radiance of Cloud, Unhindered as the Void

”Sorry about that, Ochi! That last point was on me,” Mōri said with a hint of guilt.

Ochi didn’t answer, only gave a slight nod. The aura around him grew even more restrained, as though he was quietly building something up. Mōri, already used to his coldness, moved to the baseline with sharp eyes.

’I can’t afford to lose to little Sanada here... otherwise, who knows what he’ll say about me later,’ Mōri thought, glancing across at Sanada.

He tossed the ball high and unleashed a blazing fast serve toward Atobe’s left corner. Atobe snorted, slid smoothly into position, and whipped the ball back hard.

But Ochi seemed to read Atobe’s shot perfectly, arriving half a step early. With a swing of his long arm, he drove a sharp diagonal shot straight to Sanada’s right baseline.

Sanada’s dark aura surged, his body flashing forward. His racket blurred as he caught the ball, black light erupting from the strings as he roared:

”Black Dragon Triple Strike!”

”Again with that annoying move. Careful, Ochi!” Mōri called from the backcourt, staying patient this time.

Ochi took a step back, his eyes locked on the spinning ball beneath his fringe. When it deflected to the right, his feet twitched. When it shot upward, still he held steady.

On the third downward deflection, Ochi suddenly exploded forward. With a sweeping pivot and his unnaturally long reach, he intercepted it cleanly. The gust lifted his bangs, revealing icy eyes fixed on Sanada.

”Psychic Assassination!”

A chill ran through Sanada. It felt like a predator’s gaze had pierced his soul. His chest tightened under a surge of pressure, memories flashing of the fear he’d once felt against Akashi.

Ochi, having locked him down with Psychic Assassination, flicked the ball back in a sharp topspin lob. But that moment’s delay had sapped the shot’s quality.

Atobe surged to the net, leaping high. His eyes locked on both opponents as he crushed the ball downward. Mōri, racing in to cover, felt his racket shudder violently—then fly from his hand.

”I’ll show you your fate! Rondo Towards Destruction!” Atobe declared midair.

Distracted by Mōri’s dropped racket, Ochi moved too late. The ball spiked into the court, bounced nearly vertical, and slipped past his reach.

”Game! Second String Selection! 2-1!”

”Three points in that game all from the Rondo series, huh? That’s Atobe for you,” Oshitari said with a grin from the stands.

”But that’s not really a good sign. Atobe and Sanada have already used most of their strength, while Ochi-senpai and Mōri-senpai still haven’t gone all out,” Fuji observed, voice more serious.

”No, Ochi has already acted. Both of them are dead serious in this match,” Akashi suddenly said from the bench.

Most didn’t understand what he meant, except Yukimura—whose spiritual power surpassed Ochi’s—and Tezuka, who read Sanada’s expression and grasped the truth.

The fourth game was Sanada’s serve. At the baseline, he took a deep breath, steadied his mind, and tossed the ball high. His arm blurred into a phantom as he smashed down.

”Swift as a storm!”

The ball transformed into a roaring gale—then in the next instant, it fizzled out. A lone ball struck the net cord and dropped lifelessly.

”Service fault! Second serve!”

Sanada froze for a moment, stunned at the blunder. Slapping his face, he tried again. Another ”Swift as a storm” flew... and crashed straight into the net.

”Double fault! 0-15!”

”Hey! Sanada, don’t tell me you’ve been hit by Psychic Assassination?” Atobe snapped with a frown.

”Most likely. I let my guard down,” Sanada admitted bitterly.

But even knowing it didn’t make escape easy. Akashi’s Spirit Pressure crushed opponents with raw force, slowing them and weakening every attribute. Ochi’s Psychic Assassination was different—it magnified even the tiniest sliver of unease until it grew unbearable.

Once that hidden pressure overflowed past a threshold, errors piled up. Against it, Sanada’s usual response—exploding his dark aura to resist—wouldn’t work.

”Double fault! 0-30!”

”Double fault! 0-40!”

”Damn it! Am I really the weak point here? No! The honor of middle schoolers has no blind spots!” Sanada shouted, unwilling to accept the three straight lost points.

As his voice fell, a silver glow instantly wrapped around his body. Under the crushing pressure, Sanada opened his Shura Path. With its spiritual power reinforcing him, the mounting pressure in his heart finally began to fade.

Though the negative effects of Psychic Assassination eased, frustration burned inside him. To be forced to unlock Shura Path so early in the match left him deeply dissatisfied with his own strength.

But there was no time for regret. Tossing the ball, Sanada’s right arm blurred, his racket flickering in an unreadable motion. The ball turned into a rushing breeze, shooting across the court.

”Swift as the wind!”

”Choosing the safer Swift as the Wind under all that pressure, huh?” Mōri smirked as he stepped into position.

He easily sent the ball back. Since Sanada had only just shaken off Psychic Assassination, the shot lacked bite. Mōri returned it straight back at him, clearly aiming to press him before he fully recovered.

Closing his eyes, Mōri slipped into Sleep Mode. His aura sharpened—he was ready to go all out. Sanada snorted coldly, black aura and silver Shura glow flaring as he struck back.

”Black Dragon Quadruple Strike!”

The ball streaked across, deflecting in midair. But Mōri, still eyes closed, didn’t flinch. Ochi, in the backcourt, made no move to assist either.

On the ball’s second deflection, Mōri suddenly opened his eyes. His pupils glowed purple as his body leapt with dancer’s grace to the right. With a fluid swing, he intercepted it clean.

The ball never reached its fourth deflection. Even Atobe faltered for a moment at the failed strike—before a flash of yellow blurred past.

”Game! Japan Team! 2-2!”

”So that’s your Quadruple Strike, Sanada? Pathetic. Better leave it to me from here!” Atobe sneered.

Sanada said nothing. He knew the truth—he had failed. The final strike hadn’t landed, a flaw born of his shaken state after Psychic Assassination.

The fifth game turned to Ochi’s serve. With Mach Serves unleashed at full speed, neither Sanada nor Atobe could react. They were left standing motionless, bodies lagging far behind the ball.

”Game! Japan Team! 3-2!”

But the same was true the other way. Against Atobe’s Tannhauser Serve, neither Mōri nor Ochi could answer. The ball skimmed the ground, sliding out of reach again and again. The crowd could only marvel at the power of the serve.

”Game! Second String Selection! 3-3!”

Even after holding serve, Atobe’s expression soured. His wrist throbbed faintly, the dull ache creeping deeper. It wasn’t crippling yet, but in a best-of-three match, he wasn’t sure how long it would last.

The seventh game was Mōri’s serve. Even with eyes closed, he moved smoothly to the baseline, tossing high and striking a blazing fast serve.

The ball was quicker than before, though still far short of Mach speed. Sanada’s body sparked with lightning as he flashed to the landing spot. His racket carved black arcs as he unleashed:

”Black Dragon Triple Strike!”

This time he split the technique—using Swift as Lightning for his movement, then the strike. The ball streaked forward wrapped in black light.

But Sleep Mode gave Mōri an edge. As Sanada struck, Mōri’s body instinctively read the trajectory, ignoring the first two deflections. On the third, he intercepted with ease and sent it back.

For reasons of his own, Ochi didn’t interfere. Atobe, too, seemed amused, halting to watch. The rally shrank into a duel between Sanada and Mōri.

When Mōri nullified the Triple Strike entirely, Sanada’s face twisted. He wasn’t ready to risk the Quadruple Strike again. Instead, he drew deeply on his Shura Path.

Dashing to the net, Sanada leapt high, mimicking Echizen Ryōma’s Samurai Drive. His racket cut down like a drawn blade.

”If Black Dragon Strike won’t bring you down, Mōri-senpai... then take my new secret art! Radiance of Cloud, Unhindered as the Void!”

The ball slashed forward like a sword strike. It struck Mōri’s racket, then in the next instant punched straight through it, whistling past to land out of bounds. Mōri stood still, eyes closed, stunned.

”0-15!”

”This is the art I created to counter Akashi’s King’s Treasure,” Sanada said coldly, staring across at Mōri after scoring.