Chapter 157

The match between DSG and ADT can only be described in two words— “one-sided domination.”

Game 1 ended at 23 minutes and 19 seconds.

Game 2 ended at 29 minutes and 43 seconds.

Game 3 ended at 26 minutes and 8 seconds.

In all three games, ADT didn’t last even 30 minutes in any round.

The match that started at 5 PM ended before 7:30 PM.

After the final game, Mo Yin pressed his microphone button, and tilted his head back to drink water, and the camera captured his throat rolling slightly, with the entire screen filled with “husband.”

Throughout the three games, Mo Yin used three different heroes and earned three MVP awards.

After the match, ADT’s players sat in their chairs, their expressions ranging from numb resignation to melancholy. They looked like they had died yesterday and were buried today.

REAL’s players were silent as they watched.

Just the day before, they had a tough match against PHQ, ranked seventh, lasting all the way to the fifth game before they secured a win.

However, DSG versus ADT seemed like adults playing against children—ADT had no chance to fight back.

After watching today’s match, forums were filled with comments comparing it to yesterday’s match—whereas yesterday seemed like a clash of top players from a distance, up close it was just amateur scrapping. The true top-tier team had only one answer—DSG, with their MY.

Mo Yin stayed behind for an interview.

Unlike the ecstatic fans screaming yesterday, as soon as Mo Yin stepped onto the stage, the fans below fell silent, merely waving their signs enthusiastically.

“Congratulations to DSG for their 3:0 victory today. Did MY expect today’s clean sweep?”

“Yes.”

The fans screamed with restrained excitement.

“Ah, our MY player is indeed very confident. Regarding your consecutive MVP performances today, any thoughts?”

“It’s expected.”

More laughter followed below.

“Tomorrow, REAL and KU will face off, and the winner will challenge DSG directly. Who would you prefer to face?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

“And who do you think has a better chance of winning tomorrow’s match?”

“Doesn’t matter.”

Mo Yin answered each question succinctly, while the barrage of comments on screen supported him in various ways.

— “[Nonsense, if not 3:0, would it be 4:0?]”

— “[Hello, broadcaster, just by showing up, you’re already MVP, thank you]”

— “[Doesn’t matter who wins, they’ll all be 3:0 anyway, don’t care]”

— “[Broadcaster: Stop asking, in the broadcaster’s eyes, they’re all amateurs]”

— “[Broadcaster is about to lose patience, almost saying fast-forward to the finals, skip the process]”

The fans in the barrage were enthusiastic, while fans of other teams could only swallow their pride. After all, the main character was too strong.

REAL’s team members remained silent. Although they had already experienced the terror of DSG during the regular season, perhaps time had dulled that fear. ADT’s performance today had revived those suffocating feelings.

After a moment of silence, the players quietly dispersed.

Ye Chi hadn’t turned off his computer yet and continued to watch DSG’s fans interact on stage.

Chen Dong sighed softly beside him, scanning the screen and catching sight of a colorful barrage floating by.

— “[Husband is so amazing, little doting wife should hurry up and send gifts]”

Chen Dong: “…”

Well, amidst all the commotion in the world, only the fans were living in blissful ignorance.

He cleared his throat and said, “DSG is really fierce.”

Ye Chi responded with a thoughtful “Hmm.”

“They are indeed strong, but tomorrow’s opponent isn’t them,” Ye Chi turned off the live stream, “We have to pass the KU test before worrying about getting trounced by them.”

Ye Chi remained calm and composed. His voice neither loud nor soft, the players in the training room heard him well, and smiled in response. Indeed, why worry about being thrashed by DSG? They had to earn that opportunity first.

At the beginning of this season, no one had any hopes for their small team. Even arranging training matches had been difficult, and they themselves didn’t know how far they could go.

They had just cleared one hurdle and made it to the semi-finals. Why worry so much?

The players adjusted their mindset and continued gaming, preparing for tomorrow’s match.

Ye Chi started the game and would check the ID “MY” to see if he was online after each game.

Around 9 PM, MY came online.

Ye Chi didn’t know why, but seeing that ID online gave him a deep sense of reassurance and peace.

Would they meet in the finals? They should.

“World lines have shifted,” after a period of rest, the system began to justify itself, “which is quite normal. With a coordinator like you, an outsider, minor fluctuations are expected. However, the ultimate trajectory won’t change.”

Mo Yin: “Oh? Then predict tomorrow’s match between REAL and KU.”

System: “…”

It was hesitant to be proven wrong.

The system realized later, “Coordinator, was it you who influenced the world line in yesterday’s REAL vs. PHQ match?”

Mo Yin didn’t refute. The system continued on its own, analyzing, “In this world, Coordinator, you possess powers just shy of the protagonist’s. You can stimulate the protagonist’s energy, provoke them backstage, appear in front of them, and cause them to evolve in abilities, thus winning that match!”

The system was quite pleased with its analysis, but Mo Yin remained noncommittal.

“I can’t spoil anymore. Coordinator, if I do, you might cause trouble again. But why disrupt world lines when you’re here on a mission? What benefit does it bring you?”

“So many questions,” Mo Yin retorted.

The system hmphed, “I’ve recorded all your monitoring tasks. Once you return to the League, your unconventional behaviors might face scrutiny.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Mo Yin brushed off the system’s warning.

“…Well, with the Coordinator’s energy intensity, perhaps even the League isn’t afraid of scrutiny and punishment.”

Mo Yin had 0% trust in the system. Despite its innocent facade, Mo Yin maintained a skeptical attitude toward everything.

As for his reasons for entering the small world, he had moved from the rational assumption of “gaining energy” to the completely unknown.

This was an unusual world, facing an unusual “entity.” He didn’t believe the League would be ignorant of his actions. Perhaps he was underestimating the League’s intelligence.

In previous mission worlds, he had persisted in not disrupting the worlds unless necessary. In the world with the crippled Prince Landes, he accepted the fate of the antagonist. The world did not collapse. By doing so, he tested whether completing a mission would elicit a different response from the League.

The result was that the League’s response was not significantly different whether he disrupted the world or completed the mission.

The League rewarded him handsomely with money, meaningless to a natural person who could mobilize most of a planet’s resources.

In other words, even if he didn’t disrupt the world and completed the mission, it didn’t hold much significance for the League.

And when he did disrupt the world, the League took no action against him.

So, regardless of the mission world’s final outcome, it seemed the League didn’t care.

Then why did the League keep sending him into the small worlds time and again?

Perhaps the act of entering the small worlds itself was meaningful.

In the previous world, “it” clearly noticed he entered the small world later, hence the warning to not return.

Saying such things, “it” must know something.

Secrets everywhere, Mo Yin logged into the game. He didn’t start a livestream, opened his friends list, scrolled from top to bottom, and Playgay appeared in friend requests again.

Mo Yin dismissed the friend request.

He didn’t accept requests from enigmatic individuals.

The next day, the match between REAL and KU, Mo Yin didn’t go to the venue, nor did he watch the livestream.

By doing so, he wanted to test if the so-called world lines had the ability to “repair and correct” without external interference. What connection did “it” have with the world lines? From this, he could infer the role “it” played in all his experiences—was it proactive or reactive?

According to the system’s previous spoilers, REAL’s failure against PHQ caused the entire team to start transforming due to the impact of failure.

If the world lines had the alleged “repairing ability,” then REAL would inevitably fail in the Spring Tournament. As for who they would lose to, Mo Yin believed a qualified antagonist should await at the finish line.

The match between REAL and KU was also heavily promoted by the League.

The domination match between DSG and ADT didn’t satisfy the audience, but clearly, REAL and KU seemed evenly matched and promised an exciting game.

On the day of the match, the live stream viewership reached a new peak.

KU, as an established powerhouse, had once won the world championship in ancient times. However, most of their former players had retired or switched careers. Now, KU could only be described as a shadow of its former glory compared to DSG, the newly crowned two-time champion, and ADT, which was becoming increasingly youthful. KU relied on buying top players from various countries each year to stay competitive.

Among KU’s lineup, five players included only one young ADC who had already played in the league for two years and debuted as a rookie of the year back then, with a high market value. The other four players consisted of a support who was last year’s runner-up, a jungler who was a top-tier player in the neighboring league and had been recruited recently, and a veteran top laner who had maintained a high level after four seasons.

Unlike PHQ, KU represented more mature experience, a more professional system, a stable mindset, and higher market values.

The combined market value of KU’s jungler alone reached a staggering 24 million, enough to buy the entire REAL team.

Pre-match predictions for REAL and KU placed the score conservatively at 3:2 regardless of who was favored to win.

In their battle against PHQ, REAL’s resilience and Ye Chi’s excellent performance had earned them considerable support.

However, just before the match, REAL faced an unexpected situation.

Their jungler, Sun Yuanyang, had developed a fever.

It was already challenging for REAL to form a team, with substitutes being virtually decorations, and this was a support substitute who was entirely ineffective in critical moments.

“It’s okay, I can hold on.”

Sun Yuanyang’s lips were pale from the fever, and he had vomited several times. He had just had an emergency treatment in the hospital and had the needle removed only two hours before the start of the match.

“This is our first playoff, and even if I have to crawl, I’ll go to the match.”

His teammates gathered around him, their faces serious.

Ye Chi extended his hand, “Yuanyang, without you, there’s no REAL. The future is long, and if you want to play, we’re all with you. Let’s enjoy the game.”

Lian Cheng placed his hand on top, “Brother Yang, we’re with you.”

The four stacked their hands together, and Sun Yuanyang placed his hand on top, feeling the throbbing pain from the IV drip on his back of his hand. He grinned, “After this, let’s go for hotpot—”

On the field, Sun Yuanyang wore a fever patch on his forehead, his visibly uncomfortable appearance stark. Since REAL had informed beforehand, the two commentators on stage didn’t disclose Sun Yuanyang’s fever, though their words hinted at sympathy.

Online fans were well-informed; even before the first game, someone leaked photos of Sun Yuanyang receiving emergency IV treatment in the emergency room. Initially, front-row replies expressed sympathy for REAL’s misfortune, but soon, some started to oppose:

—”The League is really heartless, the player is sick, can’t they reschedule?”

—”You’re clueless. Tickets were sold out long ago. Do you know how many people came from out of town to watch the game? Will you reimburse their plane tickets and hotel expenses?”

—”Fun fact, the League won’t reschedule because a player is sick. They can bring in an emergency substitute or forfeit. REAL didn’t have a jungle substitute; it’s not the League’s fault.”

—”REAL is so poor; where would they get money for a substitute? Anyway, using a substitute is the same as letting Sea play sick.”

—”Having a fever isn’t a big deal, it’s almost nothing. Before, Wow played with a broken leg.”

—”Wow had a broken leg, but it didn’t affect gameplay. Having a severe fever is really uncomfortable, and besides, Wow played top lane. Can you compare top lane to jungle? Besides, wasn’t that game controlled by MY?”

—”I get it now. Today’s game, let’s see if Crazy Brother can control (sarcasm). Always pushing limits.”

The replies continued to escalate.

Tang Qi saw the photo and couldn’t help but exclaim, “Ah, Sun Yuanyang went to the hospital today.”

Ding Wenquan shifted in his chair to look at Tang Qi’s phone screen.

In the training room, the players were watching the live broadcast of the game. It was evident that Sun Yuanyang wasn’t in good shape today, much sicker than expected.

After Ding Wenquan finished watching, he glanced back at Mo Yin.

Mo Yin was gaming and hadn’t been watching the live broadcast.

The jungle’s fever had a significant impact on the game. Sun Yuanyang vomited several times on camera, and the teammates kept glancing at him, their mouths moving rapidly, probably discussing Sun Yuanyang’s condition, who waved away their concerns with astonishing willpower and persisted.

In the first game, REAL lost in 27 minutes.

Stepping down, Sun Yuanyang took painkillers. His teammates wanted him to rest and even suggested substituting the backup support jungle, all eyes turning to Ye Chi, hoping he would persuade Sun.

Ye Chi said, “Can you still hold on?”

Sun Yuanyang nodded palely at Ye Chi.

“Alright,” Ye Chi looked at the teammates, “Sea said he can endure it, so let’s play well.”

The teammates looked at Sun, whose face was pale. They gritted their teeth and said, “Let’s go!”

Like ADT, REAL also suffered a 3:0 defeat against KU.

“…Given REAL’s condition today, it’s understandable,” the commentator regretfully remarked.

On the live broadcast, Sun Yuanyang seemed to be crying in his seat. His teammates stood up and surrounded him. Down in the audience, fans mixed with choked voices repeatedly shouted, “It’s okay—”

Compared to ADT’s tragic defeat, REAL’s loss was quite heartbreaking.

The players stood up, and Sun Yuanyang stood as well, surrounded. His face bore visible tear marks. Ye Chi supported him, and together, they calmly accepted KU’s fist bumps.

“REAL lost.”

Ding Wenquan turned around, “MY, we’re up against KU next.”

“Yeah.”

A flat and emotionless response, revealing no joy or anger.

A few minutes later, Mo Yin logged out of the game.

Ding Wenquan heard footsteps leaving, then turned back.

Mo Yin walked to the balcony where the moonlight was cold. He asked the system, “How was it? Did you predict today’s match results?”

“Of course—”

The system sounded smug and confident.

“Although, Coordinator, you used your power to influence the timeline, causing REAL to win a match they weren’t supposed to win. But they will still experience failure. It’s the protagonist’s path of growth. No matter how the timeline fluctuates, it will always return to its destined path!”

Mo Yin smiled faintly, “What about those collapsed worlds?”

The system hesitated, “Th-that’s because this timeline’s power isn’t strong enough. Coordinator, it’s a good thing for you. Just play your role and follow the timeline.”

“Oh.”

The system thought Mo Yin wouldn’t be so obedient.

Just as the system pondered what Mo Yin would do next, Mo Yin suddenly asked, “Why did my memory module get lost?”

“Because your mental power suddenly counterattacked the League barrier—” The system abruptly stopped, auto-muting itself.

Oops, did it say something it shouldn’t have?