Is this what they call amateur level?

With so many eyes fixed on him, Chen Jue remained perfectly calm.

With a single flick of his mental panel, everything within three meters—man or beast—was concealed behind a mosaic blur. For someone with social anxiety, this hidden feature was a godsend.

“Coach Lin, you’re too polite—just call me Chen Jue,” he replied, waving his hand to deflect further praise. “Really, I’m no expert! I’m just another darts enthusiast, like everyone else here.”

In the gym, being called a darts prodigy was no big deal, but in this darts club—surrounded by true masters—trying to claim that title would only draw irritation and envy.

And with Lin Ling and her friend greeting him, the resentment from the crowd doubled. The group of obvious admirers encircling them, if looks could throw darts, would have reduced Chen Jue to a sieve on the spot.

“Chen Jue?” Lin Ling mused. “You look a bit older than me; I’ll call you Jue-ge then! This is my good friend Hu Feifei—nice to meet you. We’re hoping you can give us some pointers later!”

Lin Ling’s eyes sparkled with a plan. She was already annoyed by the club’s regulars, who spent more time flirting with female members than actually practicing. A little small talk could be tolerated once or twice, but their persistence was grating.

Spotting Chen Jue, Lin Ling seized the opportunity to escape their attention. In her eyes, Chen Jue was the quiet, respectful type—not like the others, who seemed to aim their darts at all the wrong targets.

Hu Feifei, equally exasperated, played along, engaging Chen Jue in conversation. During their chat, Chen Jue learned that both women were trainers at Easy Fitness, though at different locations.

“So, both of them are trainers,” Chen Jue thought to himself. “Could they both come from well-off families?” It was little wonder the crowd couldn’t keep their composure—two strikingly fit trainers together were bound to draw attention.

But as they chatted, a portly, middle-aged man cut in, “You look new, friend! Just joined the club? How about a friendly match to get acquainted?”

“Come on, Liu, you’re at least an advanced amateur. Isn’t it unfair to challenge a new member?” chimed in a tall, slender young man. “Let me go instead!”

Both were club regulars with their eye on Lin Ling and Hu Feifei, eager to show off in front of the women. With Chen Jue unexpectedly becoming the focus, they couldn’t resist the chance to compete and show their skills.

Chen Jue hadn’t planned to engage with these strangers so soon—who starts a conversation with a challenge? But seeing Lin Ling and Hu Feifei watching expectantly, he nodded agreeably. “I only just joined today and haven’t had a chance to meet everyone yet—let’s get acquainted over a game of darts!”

He had no choice—he was, after all, just as much of a fan as the rest.

When Chen Jue agreed, the surrounding members broke into cheers. Even those practicing steel-tip darts looked over, eager for entertainment.

The club’s receptionist, seeing the commotion, started leading them to the official competition area, introducing the facilities as they went.

The practice area used electronic targets and magnetic darts for beginners and hobbyists. Real competitions, however, used traditional boards made from sisal fibers or cork, durable enough for tens of thousands of throws.

On the way, Chen Jue learned that his two challengers were Liu Songfu, a contractor in his forties, and Wei Jinsheng, a 29-year-old e-commerce entrepreneur.

“So, both are wealthy and have time to spare,” Chen Jue mused. “No wonder they’re interested in Lin Ling and Hu Feifei.”

Both men were seasoned club members, experienced in steel-tip darts, and had participated in many events with Zhu Hongbin; Chen Jue had seen them in club photos. They were considered some of the stronger amateurs.

As for Chen Jue, being a new face made him a curiosity. The more rumors of his skill spread, the larger the audience grew.

The group bustled into the competition area. Liu Songfu, planning to play the second round, volunteered as referee for now.

“Which will it be—traditional 501 or the Nine-Dart Bullseye Challenge?” Liu asked, pulling out a set of competition darts.

The 501 is the standard in international darts: both players start with 501 points and reduce their score by the value of each throw. Players alternate after three darts each, and the game must end with a double. If you bust or miss, you rotate turns until someone reaches zero.

The Nine-Dart Bullseye Challenge is simpler: aim for the bullseye, accumulate points, and after nine darts each, the higher total wins.

“You’re the newcomer—your choice!” Wei Jinsheng said magnanimously.

“Nine-Dart Bullseye, best of three,” Chen Jue decided. “But shouldn’t we have a little wager to make it interesting? How about the loser buys everyone afternoon tea?”

His suggestion was met with cheers and approval. Compared to the complexity of 501, the bullseye challenge suited Chen Jue’s training—he always practiced hitting the center.

“Coffee for everyone, then!” someone called out.

“And the second round with me—loser buys dessert,” Liu Songfu added, placing the order with the receptionist. With the club’s café and bar, everything could be freshly made, but with dozens of people, the tally would easily run into thousands.

Since darts was a Western sport, coffee and cake were fitting prizes.

“Go get ’em, Jue-ge!” Lin Ling called out, giving him a boost alongside Hu Feifei.

Wei Jinsheng, a flash of irritation in his eyes, picked up his darts and began warming up at the line, as did Chen Jue.

In international competitions, players are allowed several warm-up throws to find their rhythm. Even though this was just a casual match, with so many watching, Chen Jue felt his heart race and his breathing quicken.

“Am I... nervous?” he wondered. “This is just a friendly, and already the pressure is this intense. If I were on an international stage, with cameras and a crowd watching every move, would I just freeze?”

No wonder athletes say competition is tough—training is one thing, but in real matches, you’re lucky to perform at eighty percent.

It was only now, as a participant, that Chen Jue truly understood. He felt submerged, unable to break free, discomfort roiling inside him.

Wei Jinsheng, by contrast, was unfazed, regularly hitting the bullseye and green ring, clearly comfortable in front of an audience.

Chen Jue struggled at first, but quickly adjusted. Activating his panel’s mosaic, he blocked out the crowd’s gaze, and the tension slowly faded.

“Warm-up’s over. Xiao Wei, you’re up first!” Liu Songfu called.

Wei Jinsheng nodded, took a deep breath, and stepped to the 2.44-meter line. Raising his right arm perpendicular, fingers poised, he flicked the dart in an arc—thud! It landed in the board.

The electronic scoreboard lit up: 25 points.

In international darts, each colored zone scores differently. The red center is worth 50, the green ring around it 25, and the other zones are calculated by their numbers and multipliers (though in the bullseye challenge, only the raw points count).

Wei’s first dart landed in the green outer ring—25 points.

“He throws in an arc—smooth, not power-based,” Chen Jue observed. In steel-tip darts, with the close range, throwing styles vary widely. Chen Jue had started with the same technique; it’s energy-efficient and suits those with less arm strength, which is why many women use it.

But after meeting Zhu Hongbin at Jingtang Club, Chen Jue switched to an explosive, straight shot—more like traditional Chinese hidden weapon techniques. It takes more effort, but it’s faster, more accurate, and hits harder.

While he considered this, Wei Jinsheng completed his three throws, scoring 67 points.

In formal matches, players throw three darts per turn, then retrieve them before the next round.

“My turn,” Chen Jue thought.

He steadied himself at the line, focusing his gaze and gathering strength in his arm, wrist, and fingers. The red dart shot straight and fast, piercing the bullseye.

The panel flashed: [Proficiency +5], as the scoreboard showed 50 points.

“He hit the bullseye on his first throw?”

“The new guy’s got skills!”

“Or maybe it’s just beginner’s luck?” the crowd murmured.

But Chen Jue didn’t pause—his second and third darts flew in quick succession.

Thud. Thud. One hit dead center, the other landed in the green ring—25 points.

Three darts, 125 points.

Wei Jinsheng’s face turned a shade of green.

“This is supposed to be amateur level?”

“That’s professional skill, no doubt about it!”