Chapter 190

The finals of the winners’ bracket have concluded, clarifying the situation for the World Championship spots.

With DSG securing a 3-0 victory and confirming their spot in the summer season finals, both REAL and ADT, whoever makes it to the finals, can at best tie in points with DSG. Even if DSG loses the finals, their combined points from spring and summer will still place them first. Therefore, DSG has become the fourth team globally to lock in a spot for the World Championship.

However, REAL finds themselves in a rather awkward position.

ADT achieved second place in the spring season and are guaranteed at least third place in the summer season. REAL, having only made it to the semifinals in the spring season, cannot secure a spot in the World Championship based on points alone, unless they win the summer season.

For ADT, as long as REAL doesn’t win the finals, they are guaranteed a spot in the World Championship.

For REAL, if they don’t win the finals, they will fall into the relegation matches, where they will have to compete against other teams for a chance to enter the World Championship.

The pressure on both teams in the losers’ bracket finals is starkly different.

Posts analyzing the World Championship situation on forums bluntly state, “ADT has a 99% chance of making it to the World Championship. Judging by DSG’s decisive win against REAL today, it’s impossible for REAL to win the summer season, ADT has a clear advantage.”

“If I were ADT, I’d sit out. Even if we beat REAL, we wouldn’t stand a chance against DSG. It’s better to save our strategies for the World Championship.”

“Entering the relegation matches? Let it be then. Besides DSG, REAL can easily handle other teams.”

“Don’t get too confident. REAL has played too many bo5 matches in the playoffs, and other teams have figured out their strategies. A disaster is not out of the question. Remember PHU from a few years ago?”

“Haha, it’s all about biting back. Before the match, they talked about a new king being crowned, but after losing, they can’t even qualify for the World Championship based on points. Don’t make me laugh.”

“Indeed, my team is going to the World Championship. What about yours?”

“Sorry, my team is the double champion, two consecutive titles. What championships do you have? Oh, I forgot, you won the imaginary championship in the spring season.”

In the esports community, performing poorly in adversity is clearly not a good choice, and REAL’s fans and supporters can only stay quiet and endure ridicule.

Just one day after the winners’ bracket finals comes the losers’ bracket finals.

The schedule is relentless, with REAL having barely any rest before facing ADT.

One wonders if ADT agrees with the sentiments of internet users—that there’s no need to strive if you can piggyback your way into the World Championship. Or perhaps their actual strength is just lacking, as they smoothly lost the match 1-3, echoing their previous performances.

Audiences commented that the match should hurry up and fast-forward to the finals!

In the last winners’ bracket finals, despite the 3-0 result seeming like a stomp, the back-and-forth action and intense team fights made it a visual feast for viewers. They eagerly hoped DSG and REAL would play more bo5 matches.

Fans, however, had different thoughts. Currently, the most pressure is on REAL’s fans, who have started resorting to mysticism, using tarot cards to predict outcomes. Posts suggest chances are favorable, with replies flooding in thanking the oracle.

In contrast, DSG’s fans continue to dominate the forums.

Is League of Legends causing trouble? “Anti-devouring Brother” comes to explain? Settled! Images of Zuo Ming’s operational mistakes and various expressions on the commentary desk have become meme fodder and widely circulated.

Do fans of other teams think my team will lose? Settled! Various posts subtly inquire about finals odds, wondering who will win.

Basically, anything disagreeable, settled, all settled!

It must be said that DSG’s fans have already assumed their team will win, even starting discussions about which championship skin to choose if they win the World Championship. Voting has even been organized.

Normally, this kind of pre-assumed victory behavior would be ridiculed, but replies to these posts are calm. Everyone is genuinely serious about choosing skins, and arguments even break out over skin choices.

This year is another year dominated by DSG… Whether you like it or not, almost all viewers think so.

Each playoff game feels like someone is pushing from behind to hurry it up. Fans’ spicy comments about the schedule are tighter than the League CEO’s, finally reaching the grand finals with a few more days in between. Each day, the league announces a celebrity guest for the finals, with one being criticized by gaming fans and, rather than using their money, giving out discount vouchers to buy skins. Please don’t make a big deal about the song and dance performances by those stars before the match.

Outside is roaring with thunder, rain, and blood, with the two teams nesting in their bases, closing their doors for training.

Mo Yin hasn’t gone out for a run in three days.

After returning to the base on the day of the winners’ bracket finals, he collapsed as soon as he reached his room.

In a body unable to bear such intense mental strain, meticulously using his mental energy until the end of interviews and returning to the base before collapsing, Mo Yin relied solely on his willpower to endure.

Of course, this wasn’t his limit.

It’s just that level of intensity.

For some reason, Mo Yin felt he displayed no flaws in front of Ye Chi. To avoid being exposed, at Mo Yin’s request, Ye Chi left first. However, after Mo Yin returned to the base, Ye Chi’s WeChat and phone calls kept pouring in.

Ye Chi seemed to sense something and asked if Mo Yin was okay.

“Are you the one with issues?” Mo Yin responded coldly.

Ye Chi chuckled over the phone, seemingly relieved by Mo Yin’s sarcasm, even appearing particularly happy.

Most esports players have some sort of obsession with winning matches.

Except for a few who are only interested in making money, most esports players’ ultimate goal in competing is to win.

They may say in pre-match interviews that enjoying the game is what matters, but after losing, they can’t help but feel regretful. When they go live, they have to pretend to be calm and say they’ll come back next time.

Ye Chi is a complex individual.

He wants to win, really wants to win. If he makes mistakes during a match, he’ll blame himself for three days and nights. However, he can also accept defeat. In his view, whether winning or losing, it’s all part of the professional circuit. Losing to Mo Yin, he has only four words: admiration and respect.

Looking from a subjective and impartial perspective, Mo Yin is still Ye Chi’s favorite professional player.

Ye Chi is striving, aiming to win, hoping to one day defeat Mo Yin. He’s walking that path step by step. Perhaps one day, they will stand on the same level.

Perhaps they truly have an inexplicable understanding.

Mo Yin canceled his workouts and running, focusing only on scrimmages and game training. Ye Chi also only communicated with him online, not requesting to meet in person.

“The forum predicts our win rate is 12%.”

Speaking over voice chat, Ye Chi’s tone sounded somewhat resigned.

Mo Yin lay on his bed, his bones fragmented and tormented by residual pain.

“Did those 12% not watch the matches?” Mo Yin responded flatly.

Ye Chi laughed, “We have to allow dreams to exist, right?”

“Are they dreams or illusions?”

“Right now, it’s time for illusions.”

Following Chen Dong’s surfing, Ye Chi finally understood quite a few memes.

They actually faced considerable pressure but had to find ways to relieve it. Chen Dong kept up with gossip, and Ye Chi, passing by, caught a perfect glimpse on Chen Dong’s phone.

Ye Chi suppressed a smile. Casually, he mentioned, “Do you know we have ship fans?”

“Yeah.”

Ye Chi’s breath paused, and after a moment, he gently chuckled. “So you do know.”

“Ding Wenquan mentioned it.”

“Our entire team knows.”

Ye Chi fell silent.

Mo Yin could probably imagine Ye Chi’s awkward yet somewhat delighted expression.

The physical pain was dulled a bit.

“I’m hanging up.”

“Alright… Goodnight. See you in the arena.”

“See you in the arena.”

When the commentators for the finals came out, the comments section erupted with laughter.

ADT’s jungle player – Dreaming.

“DSG’s most loyal fan has arrived.”

“DSG made a mistake, and the commentator is the most anxious.”

“Jian Guo, hold it together. Don’t call him ‘Dad’ on stage.”

“DSG is already leading with an iron fan on stage.”

Some pointed out that ADT and REAL actually had a very good relationship, especially Dong Jianguo and Ye Chi, who were friends in the Chinese server long before Ye Chi went pro. Dong Jianguo retweeted the official announcement of the commentary.

—”Bro, sorry (bowing).”

“Bros are just for sale, hurry up and die.”

On the day the match began, Dong Jianguo posted a selfie in the dressing room, with someone standing behind him, only the lower body visible. Dong Jianguo’s Weibo said “ganked,” and fans immediately recognized those long legs as Ye Chi’s, jokingly commenting “safety, military and civilian.”

The atmosphere for the finals was clearly more festive than tense during the warm-up.

REAL’s fans also saw through it.

Losing to DSG feels like a natural disaster, beyond anyone’s control, a force majeure that no one wants but must accept. As the match approaches, the pre-game posts become increasingly humble.

“Winning one game today counts as success!”

“Making it to the high ground counts as success!”

“Reaching the finals counts as success!”

“Having all five players present counts as success!”

“Being able to breathe counts as success!”

The closer it gets to the match, the more everyone realizes a harsh truth—it’s unrealistic to beat DSG with MY.

One of the highlights of esports is creating seemingly impossible miracles.

Will it happen?

Backstage, the two teams wait, some squatting, some standing, some leaning against walls. Mo Yin leans against a wall, eyes closed, resting.

In the mid-lane position, Ye Chi watches him.

Outside, the host energizes the crowd, fans cheering loudly, but backstage it’s quiet.

Earlier, during equipment setup, Ye Chi had briefly crossed paths with Mo Yin. Mo Yin, wearing a mask, wipes his mouse and keyboard, fingers delicately tapping the keys as staff lean in to listen.

Ye Chi, facing the opposite direction, quickly averts his gaze.

It’s been five days since they last saw each other.

Every time Ye Chi sees Mo Yin, he feels himself falling deeper.

The overhead lights slightly overexpose Mo Yin’s face at the top of the corridor, creating an illusion of fragility.

But that’s just an illusion.

MY is invincible.

Outside, the host calls out their IDs.

They’re about to go on stage.

Mo Yin opens his eyes.

Those eyes, pitch black, shimmered with a hint of lake-green under the glare of the lights, catching Ye Chi off guard.

In the finals, players from both teams will enter the stage from opposite sides. They’ll descend from the waiting area to the elevator, then rise to the center of the stage through the elevator.

The mid-lane, being the core focus, is left for last. With teammates already on their way up, only Mo Yin and Ye Chi remain in the corridor.

Ye Chi gazes at Mo Yin.

Mo Yin meets his gaze without avoidance.

“Let’s welcome Quit, mid-laner for REAL, and MY, mid-laner for DSG—”

The director gestures for them to step onto the elevator.

As they step on, they stand back to back, hands raised in the rehearsed pose, destined for a fateful duel.

Back pressed against each other, Ye Chi’s breath pauses.

Every time he sees him, he falls a little deeper.

But meeting on the battlefield, that’s when he falls the fastest.