Chapter 6: Crisis! Is China About to Hit Rock Bottom?

The final was divided into four groups, with two competitors in each group. It wasn’t a head-to-head duel; rather, after the shots were fired, the highest score would win the gold medal. In the final, scores were recorded to one decimal place, making ties nearly impossible. This stricter scoring system ensured fairness and accuracy.

For the Chinese team, shooting had been a sore spot—they hadn’t placed in the past four Olympics, with their best result being a mere bronze. This time, if the three of them could secure even a silver, it would mark a tremendous breakthrough.

“How do you feel, captain? Are you nervous?” Diao Xiaoming asked, his hands trembling slightly as he clutched his water cup. He was the first to compete.

“I’m okay, not nervous,” Zhao An replied, though the trembling in his thigh betrayed his calm words.

Zhao An intended to check on Wang Xiaoming’s status, but as he turned, he was stunned to see Wang Xiaoming sitting in a chair, leaning back with his eyes closed, dozing off.

“What are you doing?” Zhao An asked in disbelief.

“What? Has the match started?” Wang Xiaoming jumped up instantly.

His professional instinct kicked in; he glanced around carefully, taking in everything. “No, it hasn’t started. Why wake me up? I’ll just catch a little more rest.”

Zhao An and Diao Xiaoming were both taken aback by Wang Xiaoming’s relaxed attitude before the match. They even envied him a little. After all, he was here to add a prestigious achievement to his record; the outcome wouldn’t affect him much. Besides, he had already caused an upset by making it to the final. That alone was enough for his resume.

Shaking their heads, they dismissed such impractical thoughts. People were incomparable, and it was pointless to compare themselves with him.

Their main focus now was to adjust their mindset and compete for the championship.

Meanwhile, a competitor from the Sakura Nation was taking a walk to calm his nerves. Passing by the Chinese team, he noticed Wang Xiaoming dozing and cast him a disdainful glance, muttering, “Good-for-nothing.”

Zhao An and Diao Xiaoming caught the remark, though they didn’t understand the words. The expression on the Sakura competitor’s face made it clear it was no compliment.

Just as they were about to catch up and ask what was said, they suddenly saw Wang Xiaoming standing right in front of the Sakura competitor, who was startled by Wang’s sudden appearance.

“Say that again!” Wang Xiaoming’s gaze was icy, as if looking at a corpse.

The Sakura competitor froze. “D-Do you want to die, you...” He blurted out an apology instinctively.

Wang Xiaoming didn’t budge. “Speak Chinese!”

Although the Sakura competitor was from a different country, he understood some basic Chinese.

He stammered nervously, “I-I’m sorry…”

“Get lost!” Wang Xiaoming snapped, and the competitor hurriedly left.

Zhao An and Diao Xiaoming approached. “What was that about? What did that little Japanese say?”

Wang Xiaoming chuckled: “Nothing, he just said I look handsome, like his dad…”

Zhao An and Diao Xiaoming were speechless.

The competition began swiftly. The first group took the stage: Diao Xiaoming versus a competitor from the Romantic Country.

“Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!” Five shots fired in quick succession.

The screen displayed their scores:

Romantic Country competitor: 10.5, 10.1, 9.6, 8.7, 8.3 — total 47.2

Diao Xiaoming: 10.6, 10.1, 9.3, 9.0, 8.4 — total 47.4

Diao edged out a narrow victory by 0.2 points.

But the final wasn’t just about winning within their group; it was about the combined scores of all four groups’ eight competitors.

Though Diao’s score was decent, it was essentially out of medal contention.

Dejected, Diao stepped down from the stage. Seeing this, Zhao An and the coach quickly offered encouragement.

“It’s okay. You did great. Next up is me!”

“Go, captain!” Diao cheered him on.

Zhao An was second to compete.

Right from the start, Zhao An was in outstanding form: 10.8, 10.6, 10.6.

The crowd erupted in excitement—hope for the championship was alive! As long as the last two shots went well, victory was within reach.

True to his captain’s role, Zhao An maintained composure for the final two shots.

“Bang! Bang!”

Scores: 10.3, 10.4.

Final total: 52.7 points.

This was an excellent score, one of the best in history, and definitely a strong contender for gold.

Offstage, Zhao An embraced his teammates, his clenched fists revealing his exhilaration.

The audience roared with excitement, feeling they were witnessing a miracle.

Facing Zhao An was the Sakura Nation’s shooter.

He stood solemnly, adjusted his gear, took aim, and fired:

10.6, 10.7, 10.5, 10.6 — total 42.4.

This meant his last shot had to be at least 10.3 to beat Zhao An.

The entire arena held its breath as he fired the final shot.

“Bang!”

When the final number flashed on the giant screen, all Chinese spectators felt their hearts sink.

10.9!

A perfect shot, the best possible.

Total score: 53.3 points.

A staggering lead of 0.6 points over Zhao An.

At that moment, it was almost certain he had locked in the gold medal. Surpassing that score now seemed nearly impossible.

Cheers erupted from the Sakura Nation’s supporters:

“Yatta! Yatta!”

“Take that!”

“Yamete, yamete!”

“Die, die!”

The entire crowd was electrified.

For them, the gold medal was guaranteed.

The third group’s competition ended without any score surpassing 53.3, though one competitor scored 52.9.

At this point, Sakura Nation ranked first, China at best third.

And the fourth group was yet to go.

Chinese fans started to feel despondent.

The last group featured Wang Xiaoming against the competitor from the Beautiful Country.

The Beautiful Country’s shooter opened with five shots:

10.5, 10.8, 10.8, 10.7, 10.2 — total 53.0.

Second place.

China was out of medal contention.

Chinese spectators grew disheartened, some leaving to watch other events.

The players offstage hung their heads low, silent and defeated.

“What are you doing? Didn’t I say I’d make a move?” Wang Xiaoming declared.

“You…” Zhao An said nothing, only gave a bitter smile and patted Wang on the shoulder. “Do your best.”

No one held hope for him.

The audience began to leave.

The Sakura Nation’s fans who had bet against the “chubby guy” were ready to collect their winnings.

“What? Ming’s not up yet!” Wang Xiaoming protested.

The Sakura fans laughed dismissively, glancing casually at the sidelines—only to be shocked.

“What the hell are your Chinese shooters doing?” they murmured.

Sharp-eyed spectators noticed Wang Xiaoming’s demeanor.

Everyone was stunned by what they saw.