Chapter Sixteen: Ambition Hidden in His Eyes

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"Wuhu~ Got it!"

"The Galactic Battleship, that's what we’re playing for, brothers!"

"Stop, stop, stop! No champagne at halftime—let’s celebrate only after we win, only after we win."

"Charge! One more game and we’ll seal the deal against them~"

The team’s atmosphere was so harmonious that every member of V5 seemed to be running on pure adrenaline. In contrast, the LNG side appeared rather disinterested.

Looking over at the V5 crew dancing and cheering on the other side, there was a faint sense of "capybara-like" resignation hanging over LNG.

No surprise—this was classic workaholic burnout.

LNG wasn’t like V5. V5 had the general advantage of the Avenger buff, plus two rookies, and among the veterans was PPGOD, who had never encountered such good teammates before. The freshness was off the charts.

LNG, on the other hand?

They were genuinely a gathering of four-and-a-half old-timers; the “Lamp Emperor” counted as half.

Forget the De Cup, even playing in the playoffs felt like a breeze for them—their minds were only on clocking out.

Still.

V5 dared not show even the slightest carelessness.

By the fourth round, back on the blue side, V5 clearly held the advantage in draft priority.

(In early 2022, before the spring season began, the LPL officially introduced a fixed side selection rule—one side picks first, the other second, and only switches sides on the next encounter; it was no longer the loser who had side selection.)

But this time, LNG did not let Luo Ji off the hook.

From the opening, relentless two-on-one, three-on-one ganks, even four-on-one with support, came thick and fast. It seemed they never intended to win the match but were purely settling scores from previous games. From start to finish, Xiao Yan and PPGOD in the bottom lane didn’t even catch a glimpse of the opposing jungler.

Meanwhile...

Luo Ji, who had enjoyed a Marin-level treatment, was utterly numb after this round.

“What? Why am I being targeted so much?”

“I thought this De Cup wasn’t even like the upper bracket version.”

This last game felt like being bullied by a mob from Nan Village—powerful strikes that sent one flying ten miles, the mighty hanging on treetops, the weak floating and sinking in the marsh.

Do you think there was any skill behind their ganks?

None—purely brute force and relentless pressure.

Just like that.

Technically poor, but overwhelming and unstoppable. What could you do?

Might as well lie down and give up.

So...

When V5 finally triumphed over LNG with a 3:1 score and advanced to the De Cup semifinals, the camera cut to LNG’s side—but instead of the expected wails of despair, their faces were full of barely suppressed smiles and joy.

Was it because they could finally take a break after losing?

Or because tormenting Luo Ji cleared their minds?

Whatever the reason, they were just plainly happy.

[LOL, such a pitiful rookie.]

[The third game was brutal—Dragon’s Roam was too fierce, treating LNG like toys. No wonder they had to retaliate in the fourth.]

[What a pity, I wanted to see a full BO5.]

[Full BO5? Don’t be ridiculous. A few esports mercenaries in LNG—according to their pay logic, the De Cup, which doesn’t count toward rankings, is just overtime work.]

Looking at Luo Ji lying on the sofa like a salted fish, the V5 members exchanged glances and couldn’t help but laugh.

Only at this moment could they feel Luo Ji was like an 18-year-old kid.

Nofe didn’t rush into a review session but started handing out some post-match snacks.

The De Cup matches were nearly back-to-back, leaving little time for preparation. Rather than extending review meetings, it was better to give players more time to adjust.

At least from his perspective.

Young people tend to have irregular schedules, are a bit slow, have little money, but always eat well, move slowly, and have weak willpower, resulting in frequent bad tempers, thinning hair, and a lack of romantic luck—without enough rest, they just look dead inside.

But it didn’t matter, as long as they were healthy.

“Oh, by the way, there shouldn’t be any messy interviews in the De Cup, right?”

Luo Ji paused.

Suddenly realizing this was a knockout tournament, where players from the winning side would be interviewed.

“There will be,” PPGOD nodded. “This time it should be Qi Shen (Photic). Your performance today was very nice, but your KDA…”

“I get it.”

Luo Ji nodded understandingly.

With his combined KDA over four games, if you didn’t watch the match, you might even suspect him of intentionally feeding.

“But those dark circles under his eyes?”

“Nothing we can do; who knows how he got them.”

“Actually, there’s a way to help.”

Luo Ji thought for a moment and said, “Spring is just around the corner. I heard an old folk remedy: put ten dogs in one cage—one male, nine females. After three days, release them, and watch what the male eats. If they eat the same grass, even the weakest one will immediately become vigorous. You should have him try it.”

PPGOD: ???

Nearby, Karsa and Rookie, overhearing this, were speechless.

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That night.

News of V5’s 3:1 victory over LNG in the De Cup didn’t cause much of a stir.

As always, unless it’s the finals, the De Cup rarely draws as much attention as some regular-season matches between popular teams.

Oddly enough, the 3:1 result didn’t spread much, but a clip of Gwen with armor penetration build inexplicably went viral.

No surprise.

In the LPL, the Galactic Battleships come out every year, but very few actually take off; most crash shortly after.

It’s the strange and unusual stuff that really grabs attention.

Many clicked in, initially thinking the build was trolling.

Then they realized—

Huh? They were playing LNG?

Huh? This tactic’s predecessor was the one with a five-star Iron Man?

Huh? This guy looks a bit invincible in the top lane, rivaling the four beauties of the old-style scene, and his looks nearly rival the old-timers in the chat~

What!?

His ID is even “Luminous Giant's Mobius,” real name Luo Ji from the Three-Body Problem? Many who didn’t follow the De Cup but stumbled upon the highlights were stunned to their core.

Somewhere Luo Ji didn’t know,

His presence was beginning to go viral in a strange, unexpected way.

...

V5 Training Room.

After returning from the arena and a brief post-match review, they resumed their solo queue sessions. Since many other teams’ players were still away—main or backup—there were hardly any scrims to be found.

So they trained individually.

Until late at night.

When Karsa and Rookie stretched and rose from their chairs, the hour was well past two or three in the morning—quite a late night by usual standards.

But there was no choice.

Their rookie was too competitive.

Led by Luo Ji, the king of grind, Xiao Yan was the first to step up, which was tough on dorm mate PPGOD, a college student who knew this feeling well: “The roommate’s mechanical keyboard clicks lull me to sleep, but the sound of flipping pages keeps me awake all night.” The same applied in the pro esports world.

Their AD was grinding hard, and even scrolling on the phone in bed felt like a mental wound.

What could be done?

Sacrifice oneself for the friend, of course.

With both bottom lane players pushing hard, Karsa and Rookie—two veterans—felt awkward resting and were forced onto the same grind path.

What did this mean?

That scabs are doomed (just kidding).

“These kids are getting crazier and crazier; our old bones can hardly keep up.”

After stepping outside with Rookie, Karsa stretched but kept his eyes on the training room.

“True that. Young people have their spirit; it’s good. If they acted like old fakes, that would be worse.”

Rookie handed over a drink he grabbed from inside, equally moved.

As esports veterans, they had endured even tougher training.

He was once the leader of the Spirit of the Electric Wolves, and Karsa was a gift from the coal miner Kakao. They had sacrificed far more than now.

And crucially, back then, pro gaming wasn’t lucrative.

Pure passion and faith.

Since capital fully entered the scene, training became standardized and intensified, but the kind of atmosphere they had back then hadn’t been felt for a long time.

Otherwise, the old veterans wouldn’t be sacrificing themselves so much.

“Actually, this atmosphere is quite nice now,” Karsa suddenly said, eyes shining with a strange light.

“You know, before I came here, I didn’t have much hope for this team. After all, bringing up rookies rarely led to results.”

“But...”

“I think I’m starting to see something different.”

From the Spirit of the Electric Wolves to a meta expert, Karsa had changed teams year after year chasing success. He never spoke of such feelings openly, but his actions proved his pursuits. Last year with TES, he thought it might be his last chance.

Yet fate was unpredictable—no one expected TES’s S11 roster not even to make Worlds.

“I see. You noticed it too?”

Rookie smiled, clinking his drink with Karsa’s, eyes drifting back to Luo Ji’s figure in the room.

Having experienced lows, they knew better than anyone what it took to succeed.

Not just talent, not just a perfect lineup, but a precious quality worth all sacrifice:

Ambition.

——————————————

After the quarterfinals.

Since V5 entered the knockout stage as the last BO5, the semifinals would start with the upper bracket match between TES and IG.

This gave them a day’s buffer.

Meanwhile,

Their opponents in the lower bracket were confirmed as the final wail of Paris Phoenix—FPX.

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Here’s an interesting point.

Many who read novels have heard of “tsundere,” but rarely encountered it in real life. FPX that year had only one remaining member from their championship roster—AD carry LWX.

Nicknamed “The Big Clever One,” he was also the first from that roster to loudly threaten to ditch the team and run.

Yet, in the end, he stayed the longest.

A classic tsundere.

That year, FPX’s roster was relatively unknown—names that might ring a bell but faces hard to match with IDs.

Top lane “Little Tiger,” perhaps all who bear the “tiger” name automatically get the Spring Tiger Emperor buff, performed brilliantly in the S12 Spring Split, nearly unmatched in KDA. According to earlier descriptions, he was in his prime.

Jungler Beichuan, former top-ranked in the Rift, had a reputation mostly within boosting circles. He was skilled but also had a short prime.

Mid laner Gori, a brawl specialist—weak in lane but godlike in team fights, Faker’s backup. It’s well-known Faker’s substitutes often have some quirks. Scout was fine on stage but less so off it.

Bottom lane LWX and Hang, champion AD’s final bloom paired with a somewhat notable support, but since the support wasn’t a “M” surname, that was that.

In the conference room,

Nofe and Zero watched FPX’s match footage with unwavering eyes. Nearby, data analysts scribbled and typed. The room was filled with an eerie calm.

Only when the replay ended did the two coaches exhale deeply and set down their pens.

“Something’s off.”

“Way off.”

“LWX is almost 24. How does he maintain this level?”

They had watched the same replay multiple times.

FPX’s winning principle was simple: rely on LWX to withstand all pressure in the bottom lane. This iteration of LWX in the De Cup was like a last flash of a master before death—unstoppable, killing gods and ghosts alike with Caitlyn and Lux.

Fans even nicknamed him “The Flying Chief.”

This troubled them greatly.

Because V5 was also focused on the lower bracket, if their bottom lane couldn’t bear the pressure and collapsed, the chances of a comeback from the upper bracket were slim.

But the question was...

How was such a state even possible? Did he train some secret martial art like “The Supreme Sole Ruler of the Eight Desolates and Six Harmonies”?

They all fell into deep thought.

With V5’s current lineup, competing in the upper bracket wasn’t impossible.

The advantage of having veteran mid and jungle players was that, as engines, they could seamlessly connect and flexibly switch tactics—they were all very familiar. Yet, they didn’t want to reveal their trump card too soon.

If it weren’t for ethics.

They almost wanted to send the other side some beef noodles or Xiao Yang’s Shengjian buns as a “buff” to soften them up.

After all, the famous Korean Go player had once verified a line from “The Go Boy”:

“Winning a game sometimes does not rely solely on the board; the battle outside the board can also defeat the opponent.”

Unfortunately, it wasn’t an option.

“Still, we should prepare for both possibilities.”

Closing the notebook, Nofe looked at Zero with meaning in his eyes.

“I know you’ve long wanted to trigger the upper bracket system,” his voice grainy, “but emotions need to build before they can erupt. Opportunities only seem precious when they’re rare.”

“You should understand this.”

Zero noticed the veins bulging on Nofe’s hand.

They were stress reactions from multiple rounds of public pressure. This man, jokingly called the “Iron Head Coach,” had a dormant ambition burning in his pupils.

“This opportunity—he’s been waiting for it, I’ve been watching, but it’s still coming too fast.”

“Now, everyone is focused on us winning the lower bracket. When the obvious tactics are increasingly understood, who will guard against the hidden arrow in the shadows? Photic is good, but still too immature in personality, without a distinctive style.”

Zero listened calmly.

He never imagined Nofe would have such high hopes for Luo Ji.

But he had no doubt. This man, despite a poor record, had once been rated as a top coach on the same tier as Kkoma.

He was just stubborn, not blind.

At this moment,

Nofe’s voice continued:

“The LPL doesn’t lack talented ADs.”

“JKL’s aggression, Viper’s steadiness, GALA’s resilience—”

“But the real meta breaker is always the demon sword hidden in its sheath.”

“This sword must only be drawn at its sharpest.”

He chuckled softly, knocking his knuckles heavily on an ID circled in red.

The projector’s glow lit half his face; the digital clock flicked to 4 a.m. Outside, the Huangpu River was rising, its murky waves crashing against the sturdy embankment.

“The day we draw the sword,”

“We’ll make the entire league hear the dragon’s roar.”