Chapter 162

The first game ended swiftly, even shorter than the pre-game performance. The league, foreseeing this, had arranged for a singer to perform during the intermission to fill the time and ensure the audience felt they got their money’s worth.

Ye Chi and his team were able to take a break backstage.

The rest area for the commentators was a bit far from the players’ lounge. Not planning to chase after celebrities, Ye Chi stayed in the lounge. His WeChat exploded with messages from his teammates bombarding him with critiques of every comment he made, especially from Chen Dong, who said a lot that Ye Chi didn’t quite understand.

“Quit,” commentator Miki came over to remind him, “You can’t be too biased on the commentary table. It will attract negative attention to you, and the audience experience won’t be good. Try to speak more tactfully.”

Ye Chi nodded, “Okay, I’ll pay attention in the second game.”

“Alright, it’s time to get ready to go on stage,” a staff member came in to notify them.

Ye Chi and the two other commentators stood up, tidied their clothes in front of the mirror, and walked out.

As they opened the door, dense footsteps approached from behind. Looking back, they saw the DSG team quickly walking towards them, with Mo Yin at the forefront.

Mo Yin had already taken off his red and black jacket and was now wearing DSG’s white team uniform with a black team logo on the chest, creating a striking contrast.

As Mo Yin walked past Ye Chi, Ye Chi’s gaze involuntarily followed him. Mo Yin’s tall and upright figure, surrounded by his teammates, exuded a powerful aura that commanded attention.

Back at the commentary table, Ye Chi was still a bit dazed.

Ye Chi had watched every game Mo Yin played, some of them multiple times.

Mo Yin’s performance on the field was strong and dazzling, with delicate operations and clear strategies. It was no surprise that he could captivate the audience.

But what kind of magic did Mo Yin possess off the field that made it impossible to look away when they passed each other?

Could it be that he had become a brainless fan?

As the team returned to the stage, the audience erupted in screams. If Ye Chi previously didn’t understand why the fans would scream inexplicably, this time, he completely understood their excitement.

Fans had been eagerly waiting for the weather to warm up since the start of the spring season, hoping to see the players in lighter outfits.

Mo Yin was known for his wasted good looks.

Handsome, but not fond of dressing up.

He roamed the world in his team uniform, and it was said that he even wore it to his own company’s annual meeting once.

Fans gritted their teeth, wondering if the uniform was welded onto him.

The only fortunate thing was that DSG’s uniform wasn’t ugly, just too conservative, with a jacket covering up to the chin. Didn’t he know that fans were concerned about the players’ well-being?

The moment DSG’s team walked out of the tunnel, the crowd erupted in continuous screams, with fans furiously taking photos and videos with their phones, quickly garnering thousands of comments and shares.

In the photos and videos, Mo Yin was still in his plain team uniform, but his exceptional physique, the muscle lines on his arms, and the faint outlines of his chest muscles made fans go wild. His cold and abstinent face combined with such an attractive physique created a striking contrast that sent fans into a frenzy in the comment sections.

With sweat on his forehead, Mo Yin slicked back his hair and pressed down the stray strands with his headphones.

Tang Qi was about to put on his headphones when he was startled by the sudden scream from the fans below. Glancing in Mo Yin’s direction, he saw the person causing the screams sitting calmly in his chair, looking unfazed.

Indeed, he was the “eSports AI.”

The second game played out almost identically to the first.

DSG and ADT seemed to be from entirely different dimensions, with a vast gap in skill. As the viewers said in the bullet comments, “Even if ADT played 100 more times, they still wouldn’t beat DSG.”

After the backstage commentary suggestions, Ye Chi became much more reserved in his comments for the second game.

During the BP phase, the commentator asked Ye Chi how ADT should adjust their strategy.

Ye Chi said, “They should choose an early game composition, something that works better before thirty minutes.”

The bullet comments immediately translated his suggestion: “Basically, it means they’re doomed within thirty minutes.”

The commentator asked him to analyze the lineup.

Ye Chi: “Everything looks good, ADT has a chance, keep it up.”

The viewers immediately recalled the classic “blessing” from Mo Yin to Ye Chi in a regular-season match, filling the screen with “Looks good, keep it up, good luck.”

As the game started, Mo Yin used his championship hero. The commentator said, “Quit led the team to win against PHQ with this hero, right? The skin does look very nice.”

The viewers waited eagerly for Ye Chi to say something surprising, even preemptively coming up with suggestions for him.

Sure enough, Ye Chi said, “The signature looks good.”

The viewers went wild again.

This time, Mo Yin played even more aggressively with his signature hero, slaughtering enemies from mid to top, then from top to bottom. By seventeen minutes, he was unstoppable.

The viewers couldn’t help but exclaim, “This is inhuman.”

The commentator on stage couldn’t help but say, “MY is in great form today.” Then they intentionally paused to give Ye Chi a chance to join in, allowing fans to express their admiration for their idol.

“It’s alright,” Ye Chi said calmly and restrained, “just a normal performance, his usual state.”

The commentator: “…”

Oh right, using only 30% of his strength to crush ADT, leaving them helpless.

As the game ended, Mo Yin recalled back to base in front of the enemy’s fountain.

The commentator said regretfully, “It’s over.”

“This time, ADT’s lineup emphasized too much on late-game power. If they had chosen an early game lineup as Quit suggested, they might have had a chance. What do you think, Quit?”

Ye Chi didn’t answer immediately. The commentator nudged his arm, and Ye Chi finally responded, “Maybe.”

During the intermission, the commentator asked Ye Chi why he zoned out earlier. Ye Chi paused and said, “I was a bit hungry.”

Seconds before ADT’s base exploded, Mo Yin took a sip of water. As the base exploded, he removed his headset, his hair disheveled. As he stood up, he casually ran his hand through his hair, causing the audience to scream. The director, understanding the fans’ sentiments, zoomed in on him. Though the action was brief, seeing his face on the large screens had a tremendous impact.

Ye Chi had zoned out during the screen flash.

The screen was so close it felt like the person was right in front of him, and he couldn’t help but focus on the screen.

What kind of symptom was this?

Getting distracted just by looking at someone’s face.

The third game hadn’t started yet, but most people already considered it the final one.

On stage, the commentator described ADT’s choice for this game as a “last-ditch effort.”

In the final game, ADT picked an unusual and niche lineup, seemingly determined to fight DSG with everything they had to win at least one game.

The main characters in hot-blooded anime usually unleash their power in desperate situations and defeat seemingly unbeatable opponents.

Seeing such a peculiar and rare lineup, the commentators were very excited, “This lineup, you can’t say for sure, but I think they have a chance, Quit, what do you think?”

“I think…” Ye Chi’s gaze fell on the bottom right corner of the screen where the camera showed Mo Yin leaning back, looking relaxed yet absolutely focused and cold. The polite words he was about to say got swallowed back, and Ye Chi said, “DSG won’t give ADT any chance.”

The viewers who hoped for a comeback, for the strong team to stumble, for the underdog to rise, would not see such dramatic eSports storylines with DSG.

“He’s going to dive, this health bar, he’s diving, Kiki run—ah, it’s too late, MY… this…”

The commentator didn’t know how to continue.

“Solo kill,” Ye Chi helped summarize.

“The bot lane is unplayable,” Ye Chi said, “MY will probably head to the bot lane next.”

In the game, it seemed like Mo Yin heard what Ye Chi said because after returning to base to get more equipment, he immediately went to the bot lane.

“ADT’s ADC is going to die.”

Ye Chi added, “If he recalls now, he should be safe, let’s see if he has that instinct.”

Half a minute later, ADT’s ADC used his life to prove Ye Chi’s prediction accurate. The commentator couldn’t help but marvel, “Quit, you are very familiar with MY’s moves.”

“I’ve watched every game he’s played and often study his tactics.”

“Not bad, no wonder during the regular season, it felt like your matches against DSG were quite competitive.”

“Not really, we were crushed,” Ye Chi admitted.

The commentator: “…” He forgot that Ye Chi is an honest kid, harsh on others and equally harsh on himself.

The ADT players were drenched in sweat. Though they had joked about aiming for second place in pre-game interviews, in the heat of the match, everyone wanted to win.

But there was only despair, overwhelming despair.

It felt like ordinary humans facing a monster.

No matter how they struggled, they couldn’t escape the opponent’s grasp.

They grouped up for a four-man gank, but the opponent’s reinforcements arrived instantly. Every time the teleport signal flashed, the descending grandmaster felt like the Grim Reaper, flawless and overwhelming. When the ultimate skill landed, their willpower collapsed instantly. They scattered without the courage to face the enemy, powerless to resist…

Against other teams, losing was just losing. Against DSG, the crushing pressure shattered not only their hopes but their spirits.

ADT’s mid-laner looked pale, almost nauseous.

The moment their base exploded, relief preceded the pain of defeat.

It was finally over.

The relentless torment that began from the first second of the match was finally over.

No miracles. Against such monsters, there were no miracles.

“Let’s congratulate DSG for winning the spring championship for three consecutive years! And this year, they’ve set an unprecedented record, not losing a single game throughout the spring season! This is what dominance looks like—true dominance! Let’s give another round of applause to DSG, the well-deserved champions!”

With the commentator’s passionate summary, DSG’s players stood up. Mo Yin’s face showed a rare smile, and his teammates tentatively approached him for a restrained hug.

The fans went wild, shouting DSG’s name and Mo Yin’s ID.

Golden confetti sprayed down as the commentator continued to hype the atmosphere. Ironically, the calmest individuals in the arena were the championship team players themselves.

Tang Qi was excited, but seeing his teammates’ calm demeanor, he restrained his own excitement.

The victory felt too easy.

Everything seemed inevitable.

Tang Qi, with a near-breaking smile, followed his teammates toward the coveted championship trophy.

Teammates and coaches held the trophy together. Amidst the golden confetti, Tang Qi’s hand brushed against his teammates’. He looked across at Mo Yin, whose confident smile and resolute, cold eyes showed that this trophy rightfully belonged to him, only to him.

Everything felt so natural.

Mo Yin put down the trophy, and his expression on the big screen remained unchanged from his usual game-day demeanor. The golden confetti and the cheers seemed to leave him unmoved. Winning, for him, was as natural as his existence, nothing to be ecstatic about.

The commentators speculated about the Finals MVP. This time, they dropped the pretense, saying directly, “It should be MY, right? Quit, what do you think?”

Ye Chi kept staring at the person on the screen.

Since stepping onto the professional stage, his goal had always been to win a championship.

He had imagined many scenarios of winning a championship.

None matched the current reality. Mo Yin’s expression and eyes shattered his preconceptions—no excitement, no frenzy, just an irredeemable arrogance.

It was as if he embodied the crown itself.

“It’s MY,” Ye Chi said, controlling his wildly beating heart. “There is no one else. It could only be him.”