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Chapter 78 – The World-Class Spray King Has Arrived

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Ji Wei hadn’t bared his teeth for long before Yin Sijue pulled him into an embrace and led him off the stage.

“Why are you so fierce?”

Ji Wei reluctantly let her hold onto his arm. “…He scolded me earlier.”

Yin Sijue’s eyes curved into a smile. “I thought you weren’t angry.”

“…” Ji Wei turned his face away awkwardly. “Just a little bit.”

“It’s okay.” Yin Sijue patted his head. “Continue venting your anger in the next round.”

“Stop flirting,” Xu Shaoqiu called them into the lounge. “Lao Ma, talk to them about the issue with entering the circle in the second phase of the last game.”

The players had made a minor mistake in selecting their spots when entering the circle in the previous match, and Lao Ma quickly reviewed the situation with them using the video.

Da Shu slumped on the sofa in the lounge while his physical therapist massaged his hands. He stared at the ceiling in boredom.

“Hey, SOP’s mentality is really bad. I think when they realized UGC’s shift in the last game, their playstyle started to change. They played like sleepwalkers.”

Ji Wei asked worriedly, “Brother Qiu, will the referees notice that UGC played like that last game?”

Xu Shaoqiu spread his hands. “Actually, SOP’s coach requested a timeout halfway through your match. Youyou and I argued with them for a long time before they actually stopped the game. At the time, I told them that if the referee was going to issue a penalty, then SOP, DT, and WNL should all be penalized. Just treat them all equally. After all, their behavior in that match was a bit too obvious.”

Da Shu said angrily, “That’s right! I couldn’t find a gun in the downtown area, and two players from different teams ganged up on me. How shameless!”

Mi Li muttered, “Someone else committed the foul, and yet we’re the ones worrying about getting penalized. It’s really exhausting.”

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” Da Shu put his hands down, checked Twitter for a moment, and felt his mood brighten again. “SOP is getting roasted so badly. It’s so satisfying to watch.”

In esports, being bad is the original sin—no matter the game.

SOP’s immediate downfall provided the perfect meme for PCL fans. Several eager fans made a GIF of them getting blown to pieces and flooded Twitter threads with it.

During the group stage, three PKL teams had all jumped to G Port, and many uninformed netizens online claimed it was just a coincidence. Until today’s match—when the same situation happened again—fewer people came to their defense.

Illegal teaming and regional targeting—these two accusations pinned on SOP—would forever stain their careers, whether or not the referees called the decision.

[“@SOP Club, are you still targeting us? What tricks are you planning for the next game?”]

[“Let Bluehole develop a super bazooka for you to blow up the entire map!”]

[“I’m relieved to see Sakura Girl is criticizing them too.”]

[“With no luck in the circle, it feels like these guys are using invincibility mode to level up to 4, 3, 9, or 9.”]

[“Oh my goodness! UGC is awesome! One more win and their ranking will go up!”]

[“Did anyone notice that Solve hugged Unique after the match? I’m so dumb—I missed it!”]

[“Haha, right in front of Zone! There were rumors before that some SOP guys were being sexually discriminatory backstage, and now they’re really getting slapped in the face!”]

[“How dare they discriminate? They’re giving themselves way too much credit!”]

The audience wasn’t idle during the break either, constantly watching the highlight reels on the big screen and screaming whenever a segment related to their region appeared.

After a few rounds, fans from other regions had completely vanished, leaving only the Chinese and Korean teams locked in a passionate showdown.

Although the PCL region didn’t have a numerical advantage, their momentum was strong, and the two teams were evenly matched. After a short break, the second game finally began.

Mika: “Welcome back! You’re currently watching the live broadcast of Day 1 of the PGC World Finals!”

Yamy: “Our second game is still on the Erangel map. You can see that the route isn’t very friendly to AVG again.”

Mika: “Overall, it’s a more easterly route. Will AVG use their secondary jump point?”

In the game, Yin Sijue marked a spot in the jungle area where the car was being farmed, effectively telling the audience: No.

Da Shu landed and quickly got into the car, saying leisurely, “G Port is our eternal home. By the way, if you two get married in PUBG, can you choose G Port? Even if there’s no overpass, at least there’s an elevated road.”

Ji Wei’s hand trembled, and he almost pressed the fire button. “Did you hear that?!”

Da Shu: “Of course. I have superb hearing.”

Ji Wei: “…”

Yin Sijue put away his gun. “I’ll think about it.”

Ji Wei: “?”

Without harassment from other teams, they comfortably gathered supplies at Port G, survived safely until the second stage, and began moving toward the safe zone.

There was an airdrop mid-game, but since it was too remote for any team to reach, Da Shu managed to snag an MK14.

Da Shu: “Charm control, charm control — Unique, want it?”

Ji Wei: “No thanks, I’ll take the M24.”

Da Shu: “Oh, right, you want a bolt-action sniper. Then I’ll keep it, hehe.”

Mi Li ruthlessly pointed out, “Someone’s been eyeing it for a while now — asking if Unique wants it is just for show.”

Da Shu got defensive. “So what! At least I asked!”

With some time left before the circle closed, Ji Wei chose a seaside house for the team to rest in. Da Shu parked the car in a secluded spot, and the others waited inside for the next circle to form.

Silence settled around them. Ji Wei, holding a high-powered scope by the window, said casually, “If no one shows up in thirty seconds, we’ll drive in from the second phase. UGC hasn’t lost any players yet, so they might come from behind us — stay alert.”

He added, “We’re pretty lucky this time; we even managed to pick up an airdrop.”

Da Shu crouched in the corner, trembling slightly. “Generally speaking, it’s best not to mention that in-game.”

Tournament newbie Ji Wei asked, “What happens if you do?”

“It jinxes it.”

Yin Sijue raised his gun, listening carefully to the sounds coming through his headset. “Someone’s coming.”

…

In the Commentary Booth

Mika: “The camera’s on our AVG! The UGC team, driving into the circle, has spotted the occupants of the seaside house — they’ve finally found them this time!”

Yamy: “UGC’s speed is insane! Am’s driving has blocked the main entrance, and Kelly’s using smokes and grenades in rotation — AVG is under a ton of pressure right now!”

…

In the game, KK commanded in a deep voice: “Keep throwing smokes! One’s on the top floor, the others are on the second floor — force everyone in AVG down!”

Kelly, outside, was furiously throwing grenades. “No way I’m letting these rats get away this time!”

On the other side, Yin Sijue crouched by the stairwell, his expression calm. The sharp sound of UGC’s grenade pins being pulled crackled through his earpiece.

He glanced toward the lower right — Da Shu had already been blasted down to half health by a grenade. Mi Li was throwing grenades outward, while Ji Wei was on the rooftop, looking for an opening to take aim.

Shifting his view, Yin Sijue noticed the car blocking the building below — the same blue sedan UGC had deliberately backed up to seal the entrance.

“I’m going out. Cover me,” Yin Sijue said curtly into his mic.

Ji Wei didn’t hesitate. “Got it.”

…

Mika, in the commentary booth, clapped his hands nervously. “Solve’s moving? Is he going downstairs? The only entrance is blocked by UGC’s car! All four of them are surrounding the building — it’s dangerous!”

Yamy: “With a full team attacking a building, I still don’t recommend players go out and fight alone — even if it’s Solve…”

Before the commentator could finish speaking, the in-game character named [Solve] suddenly slid in front of the car, pressed [F] to enter, then instantly switched seats and exited from the other side.

While the enemies outside were still watching Unique on the rooftop, waiting to see if he would jump down and finish them off, Solve had already moved from inside the building to outside in a flash.

The UGC players had no idea where the opponents inside had gone before Yin Sijue fired three bursts from his AKM, instantly killing the UGC gunner hiding along the outer wall.

[AVG_Solve] used the AKM assault rifle to knock down [UGC_TT]

“Even though it’s Solve, he can definitely turn the tide in this situation,” Yamy continued calmly. “Unique forced Kelly back on the rooftop, and KK on the outer wall couldn’t withstand Solve!”

“The AKM only has 32 rounds left — can Solve still make it through? He can!!”

In the game, Yin Sijue finished off KK, then turned and knocked out Kelly, who had already been worn down by Ji Wei. Finally, he emptied his last five rounds into Am, who had rushed forward to help his teammates.

[AVG_Solve] used the AKM assault rifle to knock down [UGC_KK]

[AVG_Solve] used the AKM assault rifle to knock down [UGC_Kelly]

[AVG_Solve] used the AKM assault rifle to knock down [UGC_Am]

[Four-Strike Rampage]

Mika screamed at the top of her lungs, “Here he comes! That man is here! The PCL’s top marksman is here!”

Yamy: “The world-class flatland sprint king is here — a 32-round sprint, one versus four! This is real! Incredible! Ah!”

The audience erupted in cheers and applause. Fans holding Solve signboards were already on their feet, shouting in excitement.

In the game, Da Shu jabbed himself with an adrenaline shot, still buzzing from the fight.

“Captain, that move was insane! My heart’s racing!”

Mi Li, reloading with Kelly’s loot, teased, “Unique, how does it feel?”

Ji Wei had just come down from the rooftop and was caught off guard by the question. He stammered out the truth.

“Huh? My… my heart raced too!”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Yin Sijue, unable to bear teasing his boyfriend further, went downstairs and started the jeep parked outside. He said calmly, “Unique, keep an eye on the circle. We might be surrounded soon.”

Ten minutes later, AVG was stuck on the edge of the circle. Two players were taken out by SOP, who had already occupied the high ground. Ji Wei and Yin Sijue fired from a wide angle, too far away to save Mi Li, who had rushed forward.

Yin Sijue: “Mi Li, keep calling out positions. Unique, go for the revive.”

After being helped to his feet, Da Shu quickly used his MK14 to burst-fire, knocking down Zone, who had killed Mili.

[AVG_Tree] used the MK14 Marksman Rifle to knock down [SOP_Zone].

Mika: “Oh my god, a point-and-shoot full-auto sister-con? He’s using that sister-con like a spray gun!”

Yamy: “This gun is really strong in close combat, but it depends on whether you can control the recoil. If you can’t, it just looks ridiculous.”

In the game, as if responding to the commentators’ remarks, Da Shu raised his gun and aimed at the head of the last SOP player.

[AVG_Tree] used the MK14 Marksman Rifle to knock down [SOP_Flanker].

After wiping out the SOP players, AVG controlled the edge of the circle. Unfortunately, they were pinned down by SNS at the foot of the mountain in the fourth stage, finishing second in the second round.

In the third round on the Taego map, AVG started strong but lost two players early, finishing fourth and ranking third overall.

In the fourth round on the Rongdu map, AVG still held third place in total points.

…

Until the sixth round, AVG hadn’t shown any particularly standout performances, remaining stuck in third place overall.

The break after the sixth round was the longest. With only six games left, Xu Shaoqiu and Lao Ma reviewed the players’ common mistakes from the previous matches and quickly gathered everyone for a debrief.

Lao Ma: “Milly and Solve, your rhythm was a bit off in the third round. Adjust yourselves.”

Mi Li: “Okay.”

Yin Sijue: “Got it.”

Lao Ma: “Unique, in the fourth round on Rongdu, your rotation into the third circle was a bit off. Look here…”

After everyone’s issues were addressed, there were still fifteen minutes left of break time.

Da Shu looked at the scoreboard on the screen and sighed. “After the first game, I thought we had it in the bag. But I didn’t expect the top two to score so high. That European couple is insane—I admit we can’t beat them in a 2v2.”

Xu Shaoqiu said firmly, “Our team doesn’t need you to play 2v2. Your strength is flexibility—flanking or sneaking in when needed. Head-on fights are Solve and Milly’s job.”

Seeing his slight disappointment, Xu Shaoqiu added, “It’s fine. Keep your mindset steady. This is PGC—every top team in the world is here. I’ve never seen any team win several chicken dinners in a row at the finals.”

Lao Ma: “Yeah, and don’t underestimate SOP either.”

Ji Wei leaned back on the sofa, her short sleeves rolled up to her shoulders, revealing arms as pale as lotus roots. A physical therapist sat beside her, massaging the players to help them relax after the intense matches.

Yin Sijue glanced at her reddened arm. “Does it hurt?”

Ji Wei shook his head. “What about you? Does your wound still bother you?”

Yin Sijue: “It’s fine.”

Ji Wei’s lashes drooped as he blinked his tired eyes. “Mm. Six rounds left. We still have a chance.”

PUBG is a game where luck plays a huge role. The flight path and the location of the safe zone often determine, at a glance, who will place in the top ranks of a match.

To ensure absolute fairness in competition, multiple rounds are played — so that no single team can win the championship just because of an extraordinary stroke of luck.

After twelve rounds, any team that can hold out until the end and emerge victorious — no one would dare say they won purely by luck.

Xu Shaoqiu steadied the team’s nerves. “At least right now, we’re facing a completely fair match. With so many Chinese players here, the referees won’t dare pull any tricks.”

Lao Ma added, “That’s right. As long as you stay steady, finishing in the top three won’t be a problem.”

Before going on stage, Ji Wei went to the restroom and splashed some cold water on his face to wake up his numb nerves.

Water dripped from his chin as he wiped it away, his ears catching the noise coming from the SOP team’s lounge.

After maintaining first place for six consecutive rounds, their earlier frustration from losing the opening match had faded. The players were laughing and chatting happily.

Ji Wei couldn’t understand Korean, but he could tell that his and Yin Sijue’s English IDs kept coming up again and again in their teasing conversation.

He recalled the semifinals last year — when Da Shu had been suddenly pulled into a hug by the SOP captain; when Yin Sijue and Lao Ma stood at the edge of the stage, watching the golden rain that wasn’t theirs; and when Mi Li stood behind Da Shu, the embarrassment on her face impossible to hide.

Ji Wei braced his hands on the sink and stared at his reflection for a long moment.

Top three? He had never even thought about it.

Just because Ji Wei didn’t voice his ambitions didn’t mean he didn’t have them.

Standing here, on the world stage with his teammates, there was only one thing he had wanted from beginning to end— the championship.

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Chapter 77 – You Think PCL’s That Easy to Bully?

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“Wow, Captain, this is so cool!” Da Shu exclaimed, watching the trash talk livestream backstage. “But I look great too! That half-hour of early makeup was totally worth it!”

Xu Shaoqiu said, “Stop joking! The staff are here to hurry us up! Get on stage, quick!”

At the venue, the theme song blared at full intensity. A level 3 helmet spun on the giant circular screen as images rapidly switched: a bird’s-eye view of the island, the loess plateau of the desert, glorious moments from past champion teams, and highlights of this year’s players’ incredible plays from the group stage and elimination rounds. Each scene drew thunderous screams and cheers from the audience.

Accompanied by the host’s announcement, the contestants took the stage one after another, one team on each side.

Backstage, just before going on, Da Shu felt a long-awaited nervousness. He glanced at Xu Shaoqiu behind him.

“Brother Qiu, the screams are so loud! It sounds like there are several times more people than in the previous matches…”

Before Xu Shaoqiu could respond, Mi Li grabbed Da Shu and pulled him toward the stage. Da Shu kept muttering as they walked, “Did we change our noise-canceling headphones? If anyone shouts again—”

The next second, he saw the audience.

“Oh… my god…”

The packed crowd erupted into a deafening roar the moment they appeared. Everyone stood, waving their signboards. They might not all have been fans of the same team, but one thing was clear — a good portion of the signs were written in familiar Chinese:

[Go AVG!]
[I’m here! Who dares to bully me tonight?]
[These makeshift signboards are crude, but as long as you can read them, that’s enough. Go for it!]
[PCL competition!]
[Unique baby, go for it!]
[Solve, please continue the legend of the gods—]
[Tree destroys the opponent!]
[Milly goes on a four-game rampage!]

Ji Wei walked to his seat and paused. The neon lights reflected in his eyes, nearly bringing tears to them.

“Why are there so many people…”

He had expected to see some Chinese fans and had made certain assumptions. Xu Shaoqiu had reassured them the night before: with nearly 10,000 seats in the stadium, even with Lin Tao’s 1,000 tickets, the Chinese audience would still be a minority.

But as long as their fans were there, they would fight tooth and nail for them — no matter what.

The four AVG players stood on stage, taking in the sight. Nearly half the area was filled with familiar Chinese characters, and the cheers from that section almost drowned out the home team’s Korean fans.

“Wow,” Da Shu sighed. “Everyone’s really…”

Mi Li said, “This has to be the most-attended non-home game in PCL history.”

Yin Sijue nodded and led his teammates to their seats in front of the camera.

“We have to win — and show them.”

Once the equipment was calibrated, the first game began.

The pre-match trash talk had already heightened the atmosphere, and the number of people watching the livestream hit a new record high.

[“Damn it, why is it so laggy? I just saw the audience camera and it froze on me.”]

[“The people at the scene are awesome! They’re shouting louder than the background noise.”]

[“Koreans who said we have a small fan base — are you embarrassed now?”]

[“Someone posted on the front lines that the blogger giving out tickets had a truck carrying thousands of speakers to the venue entrance, and anyone who’s Chinese could get one. I’m dying of laughter.”]

[“Huh? You shouldn’t be allowed to bring those into the venue, right??”]

[“Yeah, they were all confiscated by the organizers later. But still, with that stunt, SOP fans probably won’t dare to yell anymore.”]

[“So cool… I’ve just experienced what it feels like to hook up with a rich guy.”]

[“The players are on the plane!”]

[“Wow, this is a great flight path!”]

The route on the island map ran from S City to Port P — only about 400 to 500 meters from AVG’s home port, Port G — making it an easy flight.

Mika: “The overall trajectory in the first round still leans west, but there are quite a few teams on the east side, so those teams will have to travel quite a distance to get into the circle.”

Yamy: “Yes, they should use a secondary jump point this round.”

Mika: “Of course, this route is a bit disadvantageous for UGC. We can see that the UGC players are currently planning to parachute from the east side and go straight for vehicles.”

As soon as the commentator finished speaking, the plane arrived near Port G. The four AVG players pressed the jump button and dove straight down.

Unexpectedly, three more teams appeared in the air with overlapping jump points!

During the game, Da Shu cursed, “Fuck, Your Daddy! Here we go again!”

Yin Sijue calmly commanded, “Drop where I’m marking. Set up your line and don’t get wiped out. If you can’t get a gun when you land, just run.”

Elsewhere, the four SOP players looked grim. Zone had been bombarded with comments from Chinese netizens on social media for the past two days, and his girlfriend had just broken up with him. He felt awful — all he wanted was to avenge his previous defeat and crush AVG.

Zone: “Hurry up! Remember to play DT and WNL when you land. Don’t team up illegally.”

Hunter: “Okay, brother.”

In the commentary booth, Mika’s eyes widened. “Are they trying to replicate their group stage strategy again? Are they trying to corner AVG at G Port?”

Yamy, holding back her anger, said, “As AVG’s opponent, this response is actually predictable. After all, against a team like AVG, if you don’t crush them early and let them farm freely, they’ll become incredibly hard to handle later.”

“The home crowd doesn’t have the advantage this time, so SOP can only use this tactic. It’s dirty, but it works.”

The audience booed when they saw several PKL teams showing signs of jumping toward G Port. They waved their signboards in protest, and curses filled the arena.

If security hadn’t stopped them, a few of the big guys would probably have rushed onto the stage to throw punches.

The next moment, the audience was shocked to see the map — the markers for each team’s landing points had suddenly shifted.

An unexpected scene unfolded—

UGC, who had been preparing to land at a jungle point to retrieve a car, suddenly changed direction. Several members turned mid-air and headed toward G Port as well!

Mika: “UGC? Are they also going to land at G Port? Aren’t they known for avoiding conflict?”

UGC, a team famous for their steady, strategic approach, rarely contested landing points. Even when they shared a jump point with SOP during the World Championship, they decisively switched from the airport to Zodiac, never choosing to engage in early-game fights with other teams.

However, this same team—normally averse to early-game battles—had decisively reversed course at the start of the Grand Finals, charging straight toward G Port, where four teams had already dropped.

Yamy’s voice wavered slightly with emotion. “They probably saw SOP heading toward AVG.”

In the game, Kelly gripped his keyboard, his eyes sparking. “Damn it, you guys want a brawl? Come on! Who’s afraid of who?”

The farm site was close to G Port. As the commentator had said, team leader KK noticed from the start that AVG was about to be trapped in the enemy camp and immediately decided to change their landing point.

“You’re not the only ones who can change landing points.” KK’s muscles tensed, ready to go. “Anyway, fifth place is still way behind us in points. So if we die, we die. Just kidding.”

“Do you really think PCL players are easy to bully?”

…

In previous tournaments, there had been two or three teams landing at the same spot, but never five all dropping in the same place.

If G Port had a soul, it could never have imagined becoming this popular—turning into the hottest landing zone on the island map.

Da Shu spotted the team approaching from behind mid-air and screamed, “Another one!!”

Ji Wei: “I see them too. That team suddenly changed direction. Most people wouldn’t do that. I think it’s…”

Yin Sijue: “It’s UGC.”

Mi Li: “F*ck, I’m really remembering this KK move.”

Yin Sijue: “When we land, UGC will be behind everyone else. Kill the one firing into the air first.”

Several players swooped down, and Ji Wei rolled onto a container, picking up an S12K.

Mika: “Unique’s got the shotgun! The ultimate weapon for early-game fights!”

Yamy: “Do you remember the All-Stars game where WEI used the shotgun to carve through Building C? That was such an exciting scene.”

Mika: “We’re only going to see more kills today! Two DT players just landed next to Unique!”

Ji Wei hid behind a container, sprayed one player sideways, but was immediately hit by another using an M16A4, dropping his health to half.

On the other side, Yin Sijue used his AK to spray three headshots in a row, helping Ji Wei finish off the DT player with the M16, and also hitting the WNL player—who was about to shoot from the crane—to low health.

Da Shu hadn’t found a gun and was hiding all over the lower district. After rummaging through three houses, all he had were two grenades and a crowbar. Just as he was about to be trapped inside the building—

He encountered Kelly, who had just landed.

Kelly picked up an SMG in the bathroom. With a few swift shots, he scattered the two WNL players and one DT player surrounding Da Shu, forcing them to redirect their focus.

The hunted Da Shu finally found a UMP9 in a new building and knocked down an SOP member who had been tailing him like a shadow.

[AVG_Tree] used UMP9 to knock down [SOP_Shot].

Meanwhile, KK had secured an M416 in the main warehouse and disrupted the positioning of several PKL players near container #3. The heavily damaged Milly finally managed to escape, crouching behind a crate while frantically bandaging himself.

Yin Sijue shouted, “Two more on me—still manageable! Milly, heal up! Unique, cover me!”

Behind them, SOP’s captain, Zone, was already flanking from the central warehouse, trying to catch Solve off guard.

Ji Wei switched his M16A4 to single fire and aimed at Zone’s head from the side—

[AVG_Unique] used M16A4 to knock down [SOP_Zone].

[AVG_Solve] used AKM to knock down [SOP_Hunter].

[AVG_Solve] used AKM to knock down [SOP_Flanker].

[Team Wiped]

Thus, the two Chinese teams—without any prior coordination—had together crushed the PKL squads’ attempt to deliberately target them.

Seeing their leader SOP eliminated, the remaining players from the other two PKL teams tried to scatter, but AVG had no intention of letting them go.

Da Shu, wielding his UMP9, fought his way back from the lower district, knocking down a DT member and, together with Milly, finishing off the last WNL player.

On the other side, UGC—seeing the Korean players nearly wiped out—quickly grabbed two jeeps near Georgopol and drove away from the chaos.

Helping them escape was genuine—but so was their rivalry.

UGC didn’t know Georgopol as well as AVG did. Better to run while AVG was still busy fighting, and they might as well take some loot and a couple of vehicles along the way.

The livestream camera lingered on Kelly driving away, a sly grin on his face, his bag holding the only two remaining bicycles in Georgopol.

The chat was already exploding with laughter—

[“Probably taking revenge personally”]

[“SOP finished last this round, boxed up right after landing LOL”]

[“Karma really hit back fast—hurt others, hurt yourself”]

[“Kelly even took all the bikes, I’m dying”]

[“Didn’t even leave a single escape route for his “teammates””]

[“Can’t even report them for illegal teaming now, huh”]

[“I’m shipping these two teams, aaaaah!”]

Near the containers—

After Ji Wei and Yin Sijue finished off the remaining Korean players, they finally realized: every single vehicle in Georgopol was gone.

Da Shu screamed, “Damn it! Those UGC bastards!!!”

Mi Li: “Wait — wasn’t there a bicycle in the big warehouse? Did you guys take it?”

“No; they probably carried it off,” Ji Wei said, dark lines creasing his face as he opened the map. “The circle’s collapsed onto Pochinki. Luckily we’re not that far from it…”

Yin Sijue sneered, “All the vehicles on the way into the circle have probably been knocked out by them. Get ready to run on foot.”

Seeing the circle wasn’t far, they looted Georgopol as fast as they could. When the safe zone started to shrink, Ji Wei led an ambush: they trapped some Vietnamese players pinned on the edge of the circle and successfully stole their car.

Unfortunately, they couldn’t find any fuel. The vehicle broke down halfway and was lost, and in the final circle AVG were wiped out by UGC at the edge — they took second place.

When the first match ended, AVG’s overall ranking remained third: 7 points behind second-place SNS and 13 points behind first-place SOP.

Although the final standings didn’t change much after that round, SOP and the other teams could no longer reasonably gang up on AVG.

After all, nobody could predict what the consequences of doing that might be.

When the match finished the players rose from their stations. Zone’s face was stone-cold; his eyes unintentionally met the new AVG member’s gaze, and he felt a chill.

The stage lights fell on Ji Wei’s pale profile, casting a faint shadow under his lashes. His deer-like eyes were cold and black, fixed on Zone.

You’re dead.

---

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Chapter 76 – Are You Ready for Our Revenge?

---

Even though Xu Shaoqiu had disabled the replay function during that night’s livestream, the fan-made video still garnered tens of millions of views across major platforms.

But the members had no time to follow the online gossip. The day after the stream, they all threw themselves into intensive training.

Only AVG and UGC had advanced to the PCL finals. The other eliminated teams didn’t return home; they unanimously decided to stay and serve as free sparring partners. Teams not competing in Worlds were also on standby. Everyone was fully committed, eager to support the two remaining PCL teams in their quest for greater success.

“Ah…” Xu Shaoqiu scrolled through the messages from team managers, his nose stinging. “When I graduated, I turned down a job offer from a big company and dove headfirst into esports. I earned the lowest salary in my class, did the most exhausting work, and got mocked by classmates who looked down on me.”

“Now I really should thank my past self. You can’t find this kind of drive and passion in most industries.”

After arranging several practice matches and noting the team’s weaknesses, Lao Ma smiled. “I’ve played in so many Worlds, but this is the first time I’ve seen such unity in the PCL region.”

“Who wouldn’t…” Da Shu, who was reviewing the footage from the previous elimination round, shook his head. “This is the first time we’ve been targeted like this at Worlds. What’s their problem, seriously? Tsk.”

“They must’ve been so happy when they won the championship last time, huh?” Xu Shaoqiu said, gossiping as he scrolled through his phone. “I heard South Korea’s introducing a new rule this year—the PGC champion team can get their military service shortened.”

Da Shu’s interest was piqued. “PGC too? I thought only events like the Asian Games counted?”

Xu Shaoqiu: “I just heard that athletes in the Asian Games can be completely exempted. PGC is different, so they can’t be exempted, but shortening their service period is still good news for them.”

Mi Li listened halfway through his headphones. “How pitiful! That beautiful dream will be shattered by our own hands.”

In the corner of the room, Ji Wei didn’t join the conversation. He was carefully applying medicine to Yin Sijue’s arm.

The wound had already healed, leaving behind a reddish-brown scab that occasionally itched.

When Yin Sijue mentioned it to Ji Wei, he had only wanted a comforting kiss from his boyfriend. Unexpectedly, Ji Wei treated the matter like a serious injury—applying medicine every single day without fail, even after they arrived in Korea.

“I don’t feel anything anymore.” Yin Sijue lowered his gaze to the top of Ji Wei’s fuzzy head. “You don’t have to.”

“Just a few more times,” Ji Wei said softly. “So there won’t be a scar.”

Yin Sijue murmured, “Would you dislike me if I had a scar?”

Ji Wei shot him a cryptic look. “What are you talking about?”

“You told the fans before that you loved my hands the most… uh—”

Ji Wei covered his mouth. “The others are here, don’t talk nonsense!”

“That’s enough, you two. Once you’re done applying the medicine, get back to practice.” Lao Ma handed out the key points he had compiled. “Everyone’s different. Focus on your own weak spots, then head to bed.”

Da Shu: “Alright… let’s see. Oh, Taigo’s decision-making was messy when he entered the circle in Phase Three. Can Unique play a few rounds with me?”

Ji Wei noted down his key points, then glanced hesitantly at Yin Sijue.

Da Shu huffed. “What?! Do I need the captain’s approval for that?”

Yin Sijue smiled. “Go ahead.”

The offseason after the group stage lasted only four days—neither too long nor too short—and quickly slipped away in the rhythm of repetitive training.

The day before the finals, a few members went to scout the venue. On the way, Dashu came across a new video.

It was a pre-match interview with SOP’s captain, Zone. The video had just been uploaded and had no subtitles, so he couldn’t understand a word—but the man’s expression was unmistakably arrogant and contemptuous.

Sitting in the back seat, Yin Sijue’s eyes gradually darkened as he glanced at Dashu’s phone.

Xu Shaoqiu, who had been half-listening, frowned. “What video did you just open? It didn’t sound like he was saying anything nice.”

Da Shu: “Zone’s interview video. Brother, what did he say?”

“Of course I heard about what happened on Twitter. Seeing Chinese fans call a team that didn’t even win the trophy last year the ‘favorite to win’ is just adorable. They’re so narrow-minded, aren’t they? I heard this year’s new player, Unique, is a sneaky in-game player who’s just trying to survive. That’s a bit embarrassing. I saw him off-site — he seems to be having issues with Solve. It looks like the rumors about AVG’s decline aren’t just rumors but reality. This year’s champions will definitely come from the PKL.”

Yin Sijue’s voice was relaxed and lazy as he translated the interview word for word — flawlessly.

Ji Wei, who had been watching a replay of SOP’s group stage from last year, tilted his head and glanced at him. “You mentioned me?”

Yin Sijue replied calmly, “You blew up the bazooka he’d been carrying for half the game with one AWM shot. Who else would he be talking about? He must hate you.”

Da Shu’s laughter almost drowned out the blaring car horns on the roadside.

Mi Li said coldly, “If the crowd hadn’t interfered in that match, SOP would’ve been wiped out by us. How could he mock players who were just trying to earn points?”

Da Shu: “Exactly!”

Xu Shaoqiu: “They always like to stir up drama in interviews. Don’t let it get to you.”

Da Shu: “We won’t, but the problem’s our fans…”

He opened his secondary Weibo account. The homepage was already flooded with the Chinese translation of the interview, and the hashtag #ZoneMocksUnique was trending.

Netizens had already been frustrated watching the recent matches, and Zone’s insults toward a fellow player only fueled their anger.

Why should a newcomer from your region be mocked the moment he arrives at Worlds?

Soon, the comments section under Zone’s personal account exploded—

[What’s wrong with earning points? It’s a lot cleaner than you guys forming teams illegally.]

[This is hilarious! First time I’ve seen a region call its own players shameful.]

[Looks like the PKL region is really tolerant. What a jerk! Even jerks can play pro now.]

[Anyone who didn’t know better would think SOP already won the Grand Slam. You only won on championship last year — why are you barking?]

[How many championships do you have, huh? How many?]

[Hey, you dare mention our couple? Last week, I left four comments under a beautiful woman’s post asking for her contact info, and she didn’t reply once. He’s clearly jealous of her relationship.]

[Oh, and he loves making dirty jokes under influencer posts. I’ve posted screenshots on my page. Let your regional fans see for themselves.]

[Korean men have no class. Those who know, know.]

[Hahaha, he looks like a bulb of garlic. How dare he flirt with a pretty woman?]

When it comes to trolling, no one in the world can outmatch Chinese netizens.

When their blades turned inward, they could provoke Wolf into drawing his sword against his former teammates.

When united against the enemy, they were strong enough to shatter the defenses of a grown man.

Zone immediately deactivated his Instagram account, wiped all followers, and never gave another interview.

…

On the way back from the stadium, Da Shu and the others once again mocked the comments under Zone’s Instagram.

The next day was the finals. The car was filled with laughter and light-hearted chatter. There was no trace of pre-match tension. Compared to the heaviness of the summer season, everyone was brimming with anticipation.

Yes—anticipation.

After being targeted and ridiculed for days, it was impossible not to feel angry. Every member was fuming inside, even if none of them showed it.

In a world where even a few shoves could lead to suspension, the only revenge possible was to pin the opponent ruthlessly to the ground in-game.

That burning drive fueled their nightly training, devouring all their personal time. They ate while reviewing matches, and fell asleep the instant their heads hit the pillows after practice.

Thanks to Xu Shaoqiu’s efforts, the hotel had finally installed new equipment in their training room. This spared the team from traveling back and forth between Lin Tao’s home and the hotel, saving precious time otherwise lost on the road.

…

On the way back to the training room, the others were walking ahead, talking about dinner. Ji Wei and Yin Sijue trailed behind, their hands gently clasped together.

No words were needed; a simple touch was enough to reassure them both.

During the grueling training sessions, Ji Wei’s wrist ached terribly, and Yin Sijue, still injured, wasn’t feeling well either. While waiting for their turn to play, they would quietly hold hands for a moment before continuing their practice.

Outside the training room, the others had already gone in. Yin Sijue squeezed Ji Wei’s palm gently, as if massaging it.

“The competition’s tomorrow.”

“Yeah.” Ji Wei squeezed back, his voice soft yet steady. “Good luck.”

Yin Sijue smiled faintly, his other hand reaching up to lightly tickle Ji Wei’s chin—like a cat.

The training room was filled with the noise of chatter and the occasional complaint from Da Shu, grumbling about how he still couldn’t get used to Korean food.

“I’m not asking you to cheer me on,” Yin Sijue said, amusement flickering in his eyes, his tone rising slightly. “Want to make a bet?”

Ji Wei lifted his gaze, looking at him tenderly. Under the dim light of the hotel corridor, his eyes shimmered like a calm pool of water.

He tugged Yin Sijue into an inconspicuous corner and whispered, “What kind of bet?”

“In tomorrow’s match, whoever gets the most elimination points gets to make one request of the other.”

Yin Sijue’s gaze softened, falling to the side of Ji Wei’s face. “The other has to agree—no conditions.”

Ji Wei froze for a moment, as if time had rewound to a few weeks ago, back in the locker room, when he had forced Yin Sijue into a similar bet.

“How can you, a striker, compete with me in elimination points?” Ji Wei protested.

Yin Sijue took his hand, leaned down, and met his eyes.

“Let’s bet,” he said softly. “Please.”

Ji Wei crossed his arms and, imitating Yin Sijue’s tone from the previous day, asked, “Have you already made up your mind?”

Unlike Ji Wei, Yin Sijue kept his secret to himself. He pulled up the online order page and zoomed in on the transaction image for Ji Wei to see.

The logistics tracker showed that the package was already on its way, expected to arrive at the AVG base in two days.

“I had it custom-made last week,” Yin Sijue said casually. “The turnaround time was pretty fast. After we get back from the competition, we’ll try it out someday…”

Ji Wei looked at the scaled-down cat-ear costume on the screen, his face flushing red.

“How am I supposed to wear a tail that big? And—wait—there’s a lot less fabric than that baby outfit, isn’t there?!”

“Yeah,” Yin Sijue admitted shamelessly. “I made a few revisions later.”

Ji Wei: “…”

Not a few. More like a few hundred million.

In the end, he succumbed to Yin Sijue’s pleading.

Five minutes later, Ji Wei sat at his computer, fuming, and started a single-player four-person queue game.

Why—why did I agree the moment he teased me?

How am I supposed to survive wearing something that ridiculous?

Clearly, he just needed to train harder and score more kills in the tournament!

Ji Wei was still distracted as he queued up for the match. Da Shu had to call his name three times before he snapped out of it.

“What’s wrong?”

Da Shu waved his phone at him. “What’s wrong? The takeout’s coming in twenty minutes. You’re playing a game right after getting back—can you even finish it?”

Ji Wei nodded and turned toward P City. “No problem, I can finish it.”

Twenty minutes later, he closed the PUBG Mobile app right on time and returned to the table to have dinner and review matches with the team.

After the review came another long night of training. Everyone went to bed two hours earlier than usual, and when they woke up, it was time to face the PGC World Finals.

…

The day of the finals.

Under the diamond-shaped dome, the PUBG trophy gleamed gold at the center of the stage. The arena—capable of seating tens of thousands—was packed to the brim, the air thick with heat and anticipation.
In the stands, glow sticks rippled like a restless sea, and fans held up signs bearing team names and player IDs, their colors flickering like beating hearts.

From the commentary booth, Mika’s voice came through the microphone, excitement barely contained:
“Hello everyone! Welcome to the live broadcast of the PGC World Finals!”

Yamy: “After round upon round of fierce battles, the final sixteen teams now stand on this stage! Tonight, they’ll make their last push for the championship crown—through twelve grueling rounds!”

As whimsical music filled the arena, the massive circular screen suspended above the stage suddenly lit up, revealing the face of SOP member Hunter.

The pre-match trash talk had begun.

The organizers clearly couldn’t resist stirring the pot. They immediately juxtaposed SOP and AVG—the two teams with the deepest rivalry—and even thoughtfully added a Chinese translation.

On-screen, Hunter’s eyes curved in a smile.

“Luck doesn’t favor the weak. We hadn’t even begun to shine in the early games, and yet so many teams have already fallen. The finals will only be easier for SOP.”

The scene shifted to reveal Da Shu standing in the shadows, light carving shadows across his features. He smiled at the camera with a mixture of contempt and smugness.

“Your KD can’t be saved by tough talk. The whole world knows your only strength lies in cheap tricks, not 1v1 gunfights.”

Shot, hearing the translator’s words, gritted his teeth in anger. “SOP has always been the strongest team, and tonight is no different.”

The scene switched, and Mi Li glanced at the sofa where Shot had just sat. “Some of you out there better hope you’re in the safe zone—because that’s your only hope.”

The next second, the scene changed again.

Flanker’s eyes drooped as he sneered, “I heard several players are making their World Championship debut this time. It’s an honor to face SOP on your first outing, but don’t even dream of winning the championship.”

The frame cut, and Ji Wei’s face filled the screen.

Having just listened to the translator, he nodded. “Yes, I’m here at Worlds for the first time.”

Ji Wei stared at the camera without blinking, his gaze cold and hard. He tilted his head. “So by that logic, coming here to ruin your careers in your first year—doesn’t that sound even more humiliating for you?”

Next came the captains.

Zone, worn thin by two days of abuse online, glared with dark circles under his eyes and snapped, “I won’t give you that chance. The moment we win the championship, the whole world will forget you were ever here.”

The next moment, Yin Sijue’s handsome, icy face filled the frame. Light shadowed his brows, and his eyes were cold and sharp—a stark contrast to Zone’s exhausted look.

He stared straight at the camera and said, flatly, “AVG’s full name is Avenger. Are you ready for our revenge?”

---

---

Chapter 75 – Livestream Interview

---

Thanks to Xu Shaoqiu’s advance notice, the livestream hit 100,000 viewers the moment it started.

It had been so long since fans had seen the members live that everything they wanted to say poured out into the comments all at once. The screen filled with white text, making Xu Shaoqiu dizzy.

He pointed the camera at the four contestants sitting on the sofa. “Can you guys scroll slower? I can’t make out a single word.”

[“Ahhhh, Solve, ahhhhh!”]

[“I miss you so much, Tree!!”]

[“Unique is so well-behaved, sitting up straight with his hands on his knees.”]

[“Milly, long time no see!!”]

[“I missed you all so much! QAQ You guys must’ve been so wronged at Worlds!”]

“Ahem.” Xu Shaoqiu cleared his throat behind the camera. “Today’s livestream was a bit of a last-minute decision. The members haven’t really prepared—no hair or makeup—so please just bear with us.”

His hand trembled slightly as he held the camera.

“A lot has happened these past few days, and we’ve seen the comments online. Thank you all for your encouragement and support. But I still want to remind everyone—don’t impulsively buy tickets to travel abroad for the tournament. Please act within your means, and especially for minors, remember to put your personal safety first.”

Lin Tao suddenly interjected, “If anyone managed to get tickets but finds the airfare and hotel costs too high, you can come to me for reimbursement.”

The comments instantly exploded with curiosity—

[“Who the hell is that? Why haven’t I heard his voice before?”]

[“Is that the rich guy from the raffle in the super topic??”]

[“So he’s friends with AVG too?”]

[“Manager Xu! Let me see what this ‘Rich Guy’ looks like!!”]

“Can I be on camera?” Xu Shaoqiu asked Lin Tao.

Lin Tao leaned in and greeted everyone, “Hello!”

[“Wow, the little curly-haired guy!”]

[“We can’t call him Brother Fu anymore—he looks like a kid!”]

[“Manager Xu, your connections are wild.”]

“That doesn’t really count as my network—this…” Xu Shaoqiu moved the camera toward Ji Wei’s face. “This must be Unique’s network, hahahaha!”

As Ji Wei appeared on screen, the comments went wild again—

[“Baby! Baby! Weiwei baby! Mommy missed you so much!!”]

[“OMG, is he seriously not wearing makeup? His skin’s better than mine when I was just born.”]

[“Back to that earlier topic—did you forget about the makeup touch-up incident?”]

[“Right, the makeup touch-up! Manager Xu, I have a question!!”]

[“Quick, quick—can we ask questions now? I don’t even know what to say—ahhh, brain empty!!”]

“Okay, I was just about to say that.” Xu Shaoqiu looked closely at his phone. “You guys are scrolling too fast—I can only tap randomly. Whatever I click on counts, okay? You don’t have to ask questions; if you don’t have one, you can also leave a message for the members.”

Before he could even finish speaking, the comments started flooding in like a storm—

“Let me see…” Xu Shaoqiu poked the screen casually. “This one’s for Mi Li.”

He shifted the camera. “Player Mi Li had six kills for the first time today. How does it feel?”

“I didn’t get it, I’m very angry.” Mi Li leaned back in his chair. “Well, not counting the first time—it’s happened before when I was duo-queuing with Unique. It feels great when I pull it off.”

Xu Shaoqiu turned the camera toward Da Shu again. “Tree, don’t be sad. You played really well today. I’ve already bought a ticket for the finals. If any audience members dare to shout again, I’ll show them what Chinese Kung Fu really is.”

Da Shu was so startled he waved his hands. “Don’t be mad! Don’t fight! It’s enough to beat them in the game.”

“Next…” Xu Shaoqiu glanced at the comments. “Okay, okay, I know you all want to ask about Unique and Solve.”

He cleared his throat. “Before you do, let me say this: our livestream is being monitored, so please keep your questions and answers within bounds.”

Right after he said that, a new comment popped up in his blind spot—one that made him freeze.

“This question…”

After reading it, Xu Shaoqiu looked at Yin Sijue in shock.

“I want to know who gave Solve those bite marks today?”

He couldn’t help blurting out, “Wait, you still have bite marks today?”

Da Shu craned his neck toward Yin Sijue. “Holy shit, are you making such a big deal out of it? Don’t tell me it’s from last night! I thought you two were just grinding ranked matches that late!”

Yin Sijue subtly tugged his collar higher. A sharp sting ran down his back—Ji Wei was pinching him from behind.

Suppressing a laugh, Yin Sijue coughed lightly and winked at the camera. “A cat bite.”

[“666, Korean cats really are built different.”]

[“Where’s Unique’s hand?! Wasn’t it on his knee just now? Why does it look like it’s behind Solve now?”

[“Wei Baobao, why so shy…? The cabinet door’s already see-through.”]

[“So last night, you waited for your teammates to leave, then stayed in the training room alone, huh?”]

[“The kid’s shy, please take care of him…”]

Xu Shaoqiu kept poking at the screen, scrolling through a flood of KSWL comments. The fans, realizing Ji Wei was too embarrassed to speak, started asking indirect questions instead.

“Question for Solve: was the cat that bit you the same one that helped you with makeup during the second game? You two are way too sneaky.”

Yin Sijue’s lips curved slightly, and he answered without hesitation, “Yes.”

Ji Wei: “…”

Watching the screen fill with colorful gift effects and the rising viewer count, Xu Shaoqiu gradually began to enjoy the charm of the livestream format.

“Come on, come on, the next question is for Unique.”

“Can you tell us what Solve is like when he’s in love? Don’t hold back! How does he even know Solve’s relationship is—”

“I won’t tell you!” Ji Wei instantly regretted agreeing to this livestream. Uneasy, he glared at them fiercely. “Stop asking!”

[“Mimi bares his teeth!!”]

[“So fierce, I’m scared (just pretending)”]

[“Jealous, huh? Really jealous!”]

[“I’m going to ask anyway!!”]

“Alright, one more. This question’s for Solve.”

“Uh… this one’s a bit sharp.” Xu Shaoqiu glanced nervously at Yin Sijue. “Why don’t you read it first and decide if you want to answer?”

Yin Sijue, who had never been afraid of anyone in his life, said calmly, “Ask.”

Xu Shaoqiu cleared his throat.

“When WEI God canceled his tryout, did you ever hate him for a moment? Tell the truth.”

Before Yin Sijue could answer, the comments exploded.

[“Which werewolf asked that?! QAQ Are you trying to keep us up all night?”]

[“Say one more word and I’m going to cry… my JueWei!!”]

[“The young couple missing out on those three years—it’s a lifelong pain for me.”]

[“How could he not hate him… he even changed his account?!”]

Everything that happened three years ago was a sore spot for JueWei fans.

On one hand, everyone wanted to know everything; on the other, they feared this was a wound too deep to touch—like Pandora’s box, best left unopened.

Some time ago, Yin Sijue had revealed in a pre-match interview that their separation hadn’t been intentional. Since then, speculations had run wild, but no one dared to discuss it openly. Afraid of hurting Ji Wei, fans could only probe carefully, tiptoeing over shards of broken glass.

In the livestream, Yin Sijue stayed silent for so long that the comments began defending him instead.

[“Don’t answer… It might affect the players’ mentality.”]

[“Whoever asked didn’t think this through…”]

[“Another question, please. He doesn’t have to answer.”]

“It’s okay,” Yin Sijue said at last, lowering his eyes. “I can answer.”

He paused, then spoke quietly.

“No. Not even for a moment.”

“In the past three years, I haven’t hated him once.”

Perhaps the unfair matches of the past few days had stirred something in Yin Sijue, because he spoke more tonight than he had in a long time. His clear, cool voice swept effortlessly through the memories of the past three years.

“At first, I was a little angry. But later, after searching for him for so long and never finding him, all that was left was worry.”

“I was worried something had happened to him—that he might have been in an accident.”

“After a while, I realized it didn’t matter whether he was my teammate or not. As long as he was safe, that was enough.”

Yin Sijue let out a quiet, pained sigh. In truth, Ji Wei hadn’t been doing well at all.

His pride had been crushed by those he loved most, and he had spent three years completely alone.

Off-camera, Ji Wei turned his head away and pressed his lips together.

What Yin Sijue had just said was almost a confession, yet this time Ji Wei didn’t try to stop him. He simply froze in place, his throat tightening.

His fingertips trembled slightly against the sofa as he tried to suppress the heat building behind his eyes. He didn’t dare wipe his tears, so he quietly rubbed his eyes against the man’s shoulder instead.

Sensing his mood, Yin Sijue gently ran his fingers through Ji Wei’s hair, lightly pinching his fingertips in comfort.

The livestream chat immediately flooded with comments—

[“Ah… Da Shu’s expression… hahahaha, too funny!”]

Da Shu, sitting beside them, had wanted to hear some juicy gossip, but was now disgusted by the sudden wave of affection. He said with a stern face, “Can you two… not do that in front of people?”

Mi Li shot him a sideways glance. “Some people are single for a reason.”

Watching from the side, Lin Tao teared up. “I’ve loved Solve since Unique’s tryouts. Woohoo, finally!”

After all the chaos, nearly all the comments focused on questions about Yin Sijue and Ji Wei. Xu Shaoqiu didn’t even bother to filter them—he simply handed the phone to Ji Wei.

The fans knew exactly what they could and couldn’t ask. They avoided digging into the truth of the breakup and instead zeroed in on the smaller details.

Ji Wei’s nose was still red, his lips unconsciously pursed. He couldn’t handle how awkward he felt under his boyfriend’s sudden tenderness. Lowering his head, he obediently began reading the comments one by one.

“Have you ever held a gun for anyone since you broke up with Solve?” — “No.”

“Was it because of the AVG tryout he signed up for?” — “Of course.”

“Have you always had a special liking for him?…”

The question was practically a public announcement through a loudspeaker in the livestream. But since it was already read out loud, Ji Wei could only give up in resignation, closing his eyes.

“Yes.”

Yin Sijue hooked his finger around Ji Wei’s and leaned close to whisper in his ear, “Me too.”

[“Get married right now, right here!”]

[“I don’t care anymore QAQ — do it now, for real!”]

[“Solve, don’t think we can’t hear you!”]

[“Who can resist a shy baby like this… I could eat him up in one bite!”]

[“Good, good, keep it up! Let’s see a kiss to prove it!”]

The comments kept pouring in. Ji Wei leaned closer to the screen to read one.

“Solve, which part of Unique do you like the most? You’re seriously asking that??”

The CP fans had shameless written all over their faces; after sensing Unique’s softened attitude, they completely went wild.

Enduring the embarrassment, Ji Wei shoved the phone into Yin Sijue’s hands.

“They’re asking you. Y-you deal with it…”

Yin Sijue smiled faintly and answered honestly, “His eyes… and his legs.”

[“Ahhhh! His legs! I’ve never seen anything that pretty QAQ”]

[“Remember that real-life CS video? The jogger pants—tight fit—you could see the outline! So long and so nice!!”]

[“Show the legs! Please, I’ve already sent five Rainbow Bridges!!”]

[“Can we get a leg pic as a birthday stream bonus next year??”]

[“What about Unique!! Unique, which part of Solve do you like most???”]

“I…” Ji Wei saw the comment, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “His hands, I guess.”

[“AHHHHH!! Hand lover!!”]

[“No one understands how happy I am tonight!!”]

[“Solve’s hands are really beautiful — there’ve been so many official close-ups!”]

[“Every finger is so long… wait, why did my color filter just turn yellow?”]

[“@Solve — you hear that? Weiwei likes your hands the most!”]

[“As PCL’s top commander, you should know how to make use of the information you’ve just been given, right?”]

“I do.”

Yin Sijue’s eyes glimmered with amusement as he did his best to preserve the last shred of Ji Wei’s dignity.

“Alright, alright, that’s enough, guys.”

The person being teased was practically steaming. After answering, Ji Wei didn’t dare to look at the comments again. He hid his face behind Yin Sijue’s back, secretly biting at his collar and urging him to end the topic as fast as possible.

Yin Sijue shot Xu Shaoqiu a meaningful look, and the latter immediately caught on. He stood up and took back the phone.

“Time’s about up. That’s it for tonight’s stream—please look forward to our results in the finals!”

Xu Shaoqiu chuckled as he spoke, getting the four members to wave goodbye. Ignoring the audience’s desperate pleas, he quickly ended the stream before midnight.

“Phew—” Xu Shaoqiu tossed the overheated phone aside. “Well, that counts as a fan bonus, right? Judging by the comments, everyone seemed pretty happy.”

Da Shu waited until the livestream was fully closed before complaining.

“Bonus? For Tree’s Army, that was not a bonus, okay! Four people in the stream, and somehow you two turned it into a couple’s talk show.”

Yin Sijue smiled nonchalantly.

“Face it—your popularity was never that high to begin with.”

“D*mn it, love life and career both going great, huh? Must be nice…”

Da Shu shot an indignant glance at Ji Wei, who was quietly leaning against Yin Sijue’s shoulder, and felt that the air itself reeked of lemons.

“I’m going to bed. I can’t stand the sight of you two for another second! Get lost!”

---

---

Chapter 74 – End of the Group Stage

---

At 8:15, the players returned to the stage after their break.

On the big screen, the clip of Ji Wei intercepting the bazooka shot was being replayed again and again. The Korean audience grew impatient, hissing in discontent.

The broadcast director had to consider the global livestream viewers and ignored the crowd’s displeasure. Unique’s operation just now had been too stunning — ever since he came on stage, the camera had followed his every move.

The boy’s face was delicate and calm, his beautiful eyes clear as a mountain spring, transparent and bright. His slightly parted lips were tinted rose-red, and from time to time, he’d nibble on them lightly.

The camera captured his face in full detail. There were scattered gasps from the audience. Even though many here didn’t like AVG, they couldn’t deny that Unique was breathtakingly good-looking.

Mika sighed, “Did Unique go backstage to touch up his makeup? He’s so pretty.”

Yamy, a female streamer used to wearing makeup for over ten hours straight, could tell at a glance that Ji Wei was barefaced.

“I don’t think so. Why do you say that?”

Mika confidently offered his straight-man observation: “It’s obvious! His lips have lipstick on them, and there’s some eyeshadow too — is that the peach blossom color that’s trendy lately? I used that one just now too.”

“……”

Yamy glanced at Solve beside Ji Wei, whose lips were also suspiciously red, and noticed the key detail — but didn’t dare say it aloud.

“Uh… probably, yeah…”

The casters were kind enough not to expose them, but the live chat wasn’t nearly as merciful.

[“LOL! Pass it on — only two of AVG’s four players got their makeup touched up!”]

[“Can someone explain how that makeup got done… this is crucial info for me.”]

[“Let’s just pretend we don’t know what they were doing. #mischievousface”]

[“Even during a fifteen-minute break? That’s real love.”]

[“We shippers are eating so well right now TT”]

[“Solve, that’s too much! Look at how red his lips are — they’re about to bruise!”]

The match was still in the preparation phase, and since the players hadn’t yet put on their soundproof headsets, they could hear the commentary.

Da Shu, hearing Mika’s teasing from the next booth, turned to Ji Wei and demanded, “So that’s why you were in the bathroom so long — secretly redoing your makeup?! That’s next-level dedication! Worse than sneaking in extra practice!”

Ji Wei tried to check his reflection in the camera lens to see what “peach blossom” color looked like, but couldn’t make out anything. He had no choice but to bluff, “Y-yeah, I touched it up a bit.”

Da Shu groaned, “Damn it, you’re already better-looking than me, and you still put on makeup. I hate you.”

Between the banter and laughter, the second round — on the Miramar map — officially began.

Since AVG had started the tournament with negative points, even though they’d taken the chicken dinner in the first round, their total score still ranked second. First place went to SOP, who had picked up quite a few elimination points in the last game.

Coincidentally, the two teams were separated by just two points.

Mika: “Dear viewers, in our second match, the camera is focusing on Picado in the desert.”

Yamy: “The overall flight path is skewed toward the lower-right corner, flying over Lion City. UGC should have a more comfortable game this time.”

Mika: “With this more off-center flight path, there will be more lone wolves on both sides. Of course, AVG has landed in Picado again.”

Yamy: “They’re about to face the French team, BM!”

AVG landed in the boxing gym, while the French team surprisingly didn’t rotate away— instead, they dropped squarely into the red building across from them.

Picado was vast, and at first, both teams seemed content to loot separate buildings before engaging. Unexpectedly, the French team acted recklessly and rushed straight in.

Ji Wei landed on the rooftop — a particularly exposed spot. Several bullets whizzed past him, yet his character only lost a sliver of health.

With aim like that, and they still made it to the finals?

He fired back, face tense with anger. Three quick rounds brought down the French player, who had already missed over a dozen shots.

[AVG_Unique] used Uzi to take down [BM_A1]

“Honestly, I’m really surprised they made it to the winner’s bracket,” Da Shu muttered, cutting down another enemy who had pushed too close with just two hits. “It’s so unfair that KKC got eliminated in groups. They were way better than this team.”

Mi Li: “They’re just lucky. BM’s been landing in the center of the circle for several rounds in a row.”

AVG cleared Picado with ease, and in the blink of an eye, the game moved into the third circle.

The four AVG players crouched in the ruins of the industrial area on the southeastern edge of the crater.

“Will this actually work?” Da Shu asked Ji Wei nervously. “Can we really wait for SOP here?”

Ji Wei took two cautious steps forward, observing the terrain ahead. “Yes. They’ll land at the quarry and enter the circle from the eastern slope. They’ll pass by the factory to the west — it hasn’t been looted yet. Once they start clearing it, we’ll circle in from the outskirts and wipe them out.”

Da Shu: “You’re sure they’ll go for the factory?”

Ji Wei: “They just burned through at least eight grenades fighting in the open field. I’d bet anything they will.”

Two minutes later, just as he predicted, the prey wandered unsuspectingly into the ambush zone.

Mika: “SOP is approaching, heading straight toward the large factory’s unloading area.”

Mika’s voice at the commentary desk trembled with restrained excitement. “Unique’s positioning is absolutely brilliant. That inverted sand dune slope and those two pipes — you’d never spot them without a bird’s-eye view.”

Yamy: “SOP hasn’t slowed down at all to scout… They’re still underestimating the enemy. Didn’t they study AVG’s new playstyle? They’re not a brute-force team anymore — there’s a predator lying in wait!”

Two roaring pickup trucks barreled forward, kicking up clouds of yellow sand as they charged into the open yard of the factory — less than a hundred meters from the muzzle of Mi Li’s rifle.

Ji Wei’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he took a silent breath. The command “Shoot!” was already on the tip of his tongue.

But then, a muffled roar echoed in their ears.

A deep, booming shout pierced through the arena’s soundproof headsets — unnervingly clear amid the silence of the airplane pit.

Ji Wei froze for a second, his heart sinking to the bottom.

Those were the shouts of the audience outside the stadium.

During the match, Da Shu’s heart was in his throat.

“Am I hallucinating? Why do I think I hear Korean?”

Mi Li also sensed something was wrong.

“The SOP truck has stopped. Why hasn’t anyone gotten out?”

Ji Wei tried to steady himself. “Captain, what are they shouting?”

Yin Sijue — the only one present who understood Korean — had a cold look in his eyes. His voice was equally frosty.

“Don’t crouch. Let’s move.”

“Someone’s calling out to them from outside.”

Elsewhere, Zone, who was about to get out of the pickup truck, also heard the crowd shouting.

Flanker: “Brother, is that the audience yelling?”

Hunter: “The PKL team’s already gone, and we’re not even fighting. What are they shouting about?”

A bad feeling hit Zone. He listened carefully for two seconds, then suddenly understood. His brows furrowed.
“Get back in the car. Stop looting.”

“There’s someone nearby!”

…

Outside the stadium, the crowd’s shouting gradually died down after seeing the two teams stop fighting.

Mika pointed angrily toward the stands.

“Director? Referee? Is this kind of interference even allowed?”

Yamy gritted her teeth.

“I don’t understand Korean, but SOP clearly got some kind of signal — they changed their strategy right after that.”

The live chat exploded in outrage—

[“What the hell are those Sima fans yelling? I can’t even hear the game anymore.”]

[“Korean speakers here — they’re shouting, ‘There’s someone in the ruins—!’”]

[“Can we pause the game and replay it? Doesn’t this count as cheating?”]

[“The players didn’t technically break any rules, so no timeout…”]

[“What kind of cheap ‘three-no’ equipment did the organizers prepare? Even with noise-canceling headsets, they can still hear it?!”]

[“That’s normal. Players mentioned in pre-match interviews that they often hear audience screams.”]

[“How loud are they? Are they bullying us? Are we the only ones who have to deal with this?”]

[“I’m so pissed!”]

During the match, AVG’s faces were dark. Their spirits had been crushed, and no one could keep a steady mindset.

Ten minutes later, they faced UGC, who were in their “destiny” phase, in Lion City.

Due to poor positioning, bad luck, and shaken morale, AVG were ultimately wiped out by UGC, finishing fifth.

At the end of the second game, the referees issued no penalties, and the organizers offered no explanation for the earlier incident.

They simply sent the host out to give a perfunctory reminder, asking the audience to keep their voices down so as not to disrupt the players’ performance.

“What a great way not to ‘disrupt the players,’ huh.”

Da Shu sneered backstage. “Some people sure look thrilled after being influenced.”

Mi Li frowned. “Is there any way to report this? If they keep calling out next round, how are we supposed to play?”

Xu Shaoqiu rubbed his temples. “I’ve already marked a few of the fans who were leading the chants. We’ll have security remove them later. I’ll also file a request with the organizers to replace our noise-canceling headsets. The problem is, there aren’t any official penalty rules for the audience right now, so there’s not much we can do.”

Da Shu cursed under his breath. “F*ck…”

For the remaining four matches, the players not only had to guard against in-game opponents, but also worry about whether the audience would leak information again.

All of Ji Wei’s pre-match ambush strategies became useless.

Over the next few rounds, the players grew increasingly cautious and anxious.
Backstage, Xu Shaoqiu was so stressed that he found three new white hairs.

By the end of the final match, AVG had slipped one place, finishing third overall and barely qualifying for the Global Championship.

The livestream ended with a shot of the players packing up their gear and leaving the stage.
Their faces were blank, their brows clouded with frustration and helplessness.

Public opinion exploded instantly.

…

The elimination rounds ended at 10 p.m. local time.

Beijing was an hour behind—just when netizens were the most active.

Twitter was once again blown up. Thousands of hateful comments flooded in.

SOP’s official account was forced to delete several posts.

The Korean side, of course, didn’t hold back.

They mocked under the hashtags with strikingly similar tones:

[Sorry, there’s no rule in PGC that punishes the audience. If you’ve got the guts, why don’t you buy tickets too?]

[So embarrassing, kkk. Having the venue right at home sure is convenient.]

[Heard this region’s fans are broke and love to talk trash. Seeing it now, it’s true.]

[The PCL fanbase is pathetically small—how’s that our fault?]

[Heard your offline venues can’t even fill up half the seats.]

[Finals tickets are double the price this time. Don’t strain yourselves, hahaha.]

Chinese netizens, easily provoked, were immediately set ablaze with patriotic fury.

Whether they were Weibo users or forum dwellers, everyone stormed over to Twitter, typing furiously as if sparks were flying from their keyboards.

[You’re calling a few-hundred-yuan ticket “expensive”? Give me a break.]

[Please, it’s just the regular season. No one wants to fly overseas for that. You think PCL has no fans?]

[I gave you too much credit. Who knew you’d pull this kind of crap in the regular season.]

[Sure, maybe we don’t have as many PUBG players—but we’re still out of your league.]

[Fun fact: China’s population is 1.4 billion. Even a small percentage isn’t small.]

[Some of you “cloud players” have never even been to an offline match. This time, I’m grabbing a ticket just to open your eyes.]

[Grabbing one too! +1]

Just as the argument reached a fever pitch—and Chinese fans were busy figuring out how to get finals tickets—

the PCL Super Topic suddenly refreshed with a strange new post.

The account was newly registered, and the message was simple:

[@TaotaoTaotao: Retweet for a chance to win 1,000 tickets to the PGC Global Finals!
Includes flight, hotel, and transportation. Must be a local-region fan and, preferably, loud.]

As soon as this Weibo post was published, not a single comment believed it.

[Did Big Brother get hallucinated from all the noise?]

[Another one’s gone crazy. Everyone, just focus on getting your own tickets! Stop dreaming!]

[Is this a scalper? We have scalpers in PCL too?!]

[Is this a new way to get tickets?]

Ten minutes later—

[F*ck, unique liked this Weibo post!!]

[This can’t be real! 1,000 tickets plus a chartered flight and hotel, how much is that going to cost?]

[Report! Tree and Milly also liked it.]

[Solve also liked it! Family, this raffle is real! Ahhhhh, forward it!]

[F*ck, even though I was planning on buying it myself, I’m still going to forward it. If I win, I’ll bring my girlfriend along; she’s got a loud voice.]

[Dad… dear dad… please let me kneel down. Perhaps you’re still in need of a leg pendant?]

“Is that all?”

In the villa, Ji Wei put Yin Sijue’s locked phone back into her pocket and said to Lin Tao, “Think carefully. This is a lot of money!”

Lin Tao, unconcerned, casually opened his Alipay account and held the phone in front of Ji Wei.

The black and gold page, the balance number he had never seen before, struck Ji Wei’s fragile heart.

A sour smell filled the air. Ji Wei tugged at the T-shirt she had just bought at Uniqlo, suspecting it would cost less than Lin Tao’s rag even if he took it off.

“Thank you after all,” he said, looking at Lin Tao. “You really helped us a lot this time.”

Da Shu had already knelt on a chair, shamelessly calling him brother: “Brother Lin Tao, I was furious last night, but now I’m not angry at all. If you have any requests from now on, just tell me. I’ll be at your service.”

“No thanks,” Lin Tao said with a wave of his hand. “Just ask Mi Li to play duo with me when he’s free!”

Da Shu shrilled: “Xuan Mi Fei—”

“Get out of here!” Mi Li He choked Dashu and turned to Lin Tao. “You have my WeChat, right? Feel free to contact me after Worlds.”

Yin Sijue glanced at Ji Wei, who was huddled up on the sofa with Lin Tao, and couldn’t help but ask, “Are you still practicing tonight?”

“Let’s skip tonight,” Xu Shaoqiu said, smiling as he walked into the computer room, phone in hand. “Our fans are fighting for us. Let’s do a livestream tonight to calm them down, okay? We’ll start training two hours early tomorrow.”

Da Shu: “That’s fine.”

Mi Li: “Sure.”

Yin Sijue raised his eyelids and glanced at Ji Wei. The boy had been a little listless since the match; others might not notice, but he knew Ji Wei was still a little upset.

It was hard not to be — after all, running into such nonsense during his first World Championship appearance would make anyone angry.

“What are you planning to stream?” Yin Sijue asked Xu Shaoqiu. “It’d be better to broadcast training than just chatting.”

Xu Shaoqiu hadn’t decided yet. “Hmm, how about a casual stream? You guys can chat with the viewers. I’m sure the fans want to talk to you, too.”

Seeing no objections, he continued, “I’ll post a preview first. Let them prepare some questions and leave them in the comments. I’ll pick a few for you to answer.”

Yin Sijue looked at Ji Wei. “How about you, Unique?”

“Of course.” Ji Wei nodded confidently. “Answering questions isn’t hard.”

Xu Shaoqiu moved quickly — he edited the draft, set a timer, and posted the notice on the official account.

It had been ages since any AVG player had gone live. Fans were already speculating whether the official Weibo account had some rule forbidding livestreams during Worlds. Ji Wei had previously promised to stream again before the tournament, but it never happened — his parents had been worried. Couple fans, unable to coax him into doing a private stream, could only rewatch old clips on repeat.

So when Xu Shaoqiu posted the announcement, all the JueWei shippers — parched after days without updates — collectively burst into tears.

[Just had a massive fight with those idiots on Twitter, and now I see this surprise stream notice!]

[Brother Qiu still loves us! I’m actually crying!]

[You didn’t specify what we can ask, so I’m assuming anything goes!]

[I want to ask Unique about that makeup touch-up during the second game today!]

[When did Solve and Unique start sleeping together? Answer me!!]

[I want details about their relationship — who confessed first?]

[Can you livestream your makeup routine next time?]

[How far along are Unique and Solve now?]

[What kind of play does Unique like? 👀]

The comments immediately devolved into a midnight free-for-all — fans like starving ghosts, desperate and half-crazed, begging to be fed.

Yin Sijue scrolled through the chat, eyes narrowing slightly. He turned toward Ji Wei, whose pupils were trembling, and spoke in a low voice tinged with amusement.

“Unique, it’s not that difficult, right? Make sure you answer them properly when the time comes.”

---

Chapter 73 – Bazooka?!

---

The next day, they faced the winner’s bracket elimination match — their second encounter with SOP.

This year’s format was much faster than in previous years. The top 16 teams from the group stage entered the winner’s bracket, playing only six games. The top eight teams from each group would advance to the finals.

Commentator Mika’s voice, accompanied by the roar of the crowd, rang out: “Dear viewers, you are now watching the first game of the second stage of the PGC group elimination match!”

“After the group stage, the PCL teams currently participating in the winner’s bracket are AVG and UGC,” Yamy said after a short pause. “Both teams have an initial score of -2.”

Due to the recent surge in public criticism, the commentators had been sternly reminded by the organizers before the match that they needed to be cautious with their words and actions during the live broadcast. No matter how angry they were, they still had to bow their heads under someone else’s roof.

On stage, Ji Wei had just connected his keyboard when he heard Da Shu buzzing in his ear.

“Those SOP bastards probably won’t dare cause trouble again this time, right?”

“Keep quiet. We’re being monitored,” Yin Sijue said, taking a sip from his water cup. “They probably won’t. If they do, they’ll get screwed.”

Da Shu had been practicing hard for the past two days and was feeling on fire.

“If they do, I’ll whip them alive. They’re asking for it!”

Ji Wei weakly warned, “The camera seems to be filming us. Be careful of lip reading…”

The camera was indeed pointed at AVG. To be more precise, it was a close-up of Solve.

But the fans in the comments weren’t concerned about lip reading.

[“Oh my god, look at Solve’s collarbone! That’s a tooth mark! It is, right?”]

[“Oh my god, I just opened the stream ready to curse at SOP, but now I just want to say: love and peace.”]

[“Which cat bit you? Can you show me how it bites you live next time? I never thought I’d live to see this, shashasha.”]

[“Innocent and sweet by day, sexy little wildcat by night. Unique just opens her mouth and takes a bite.”]

[“Isn’t it gross that pro players are fooling around the day before a match?”]

[“God, even a nibble is considered fooling around? My biggest task right now is getting into middle school.”]

The commentators also noticed the mark on Solve’s collarbone. They exchanged an ambiguous glance but didn’t dare say anything.

“I can see the AVG players are in great shape today,” Yamy said, trying to cover for him. “The team members are incredibly close.”

You’re obsessed with JueWei too, aren’t you, Sister Yamy?

It’s not iron — it’s copper!

Amid the chatter, the referee came on stage to check the equipment, and the players officially entered the game.

The camera zoomed out, circling the island: lush green mountains and clear waters, layered peaks and ridges — a breathtaking sight rarely seen by the players.

Mika: “The first match is still our Erangel.”

Yamy: “This round’s route is actually a bit northeast. It’ll be hard for teams west of us to get home, and teams in the lower city will need to get to R City and find a car.”

During the game, AVG calmly accepted this incredibly off-the-beaten-path route.

After a quick search in the jungle, the players boarded the bus bound for G Port.

“Being off-center has its advantages…” Da Shu slammed the brakes and stopped sideways inside the warehouse. “At least no one’s coming to jostle us this time.”

Mi Li snorted. “Who’s going to cross half the map to target us?”

“All of Port G is ours!” Da Shu paced the warehouse. “Unique, want a Mini?”

“No — I found a Type 98K.” Ji Wei paused. “I’m using a bolt-action sniper today.”

“…Oh.” Da Shu took two steps forward, still a little bewildered. “Just shoot. Why mention it like you’re filing a report?”

Don’t they decide what guns they use themselves?

A muffled laugh came from Yin Sijue over the headset. “Sure — I’ll be the one using M4s and AKs with this setup.”

Ji Wei: “…Okay.”

Da Shu shrugged but obeyed. “Then I’ll take UMP and MK12.”

Yin Sijue: “Who cares.”

Da Shu: “…”

Da Shu was furious and cursed all the way to the third circle.

Although their route leaned northeast, the safe zone shifted slightly south, so they didn’t encounter any strong opponents en route — a close call.

Mi Li quickly and efficiently wiped out the remaining Vietnamese team members, then took cover in the mock garage at the circle’s edge.

“Stop babbling! They’re just reporting to each other — why are you so worked up? You’re the clown.”

Da Shu snapped, furious. “That’s called forgetting loyalty for the sake of beauty! I never thought I’d say that to a captain!”

Yin Sijue: “Shut up! The second squad’s vehicle is coming.”

Everyone composed themselves. Ji Wei climbed onto the windowsill and zoomed in. “They’re coming from the airport. Three vehicles, full squads, moving uphill.”

Yin Sijue understood. “It’s UGC.”

Da Shu: “Fight? They probably didn’t see us.”

Yin Sijue watched them park on the hill. “Fight. If we don’t, they’ll be accused of illegally forming a team.”

The monitoring team in the background: “…”

Everyone was about to aim and fire when Ji Wei suddenly said, “Wait a minute.”

“…The airdrop has landed.”

As the plane passed overhead, a black dot slowly descended from the sky. It looked like it was about to land at the foot of the mountain — less than 300 meters from UGC!

Yin Sijue raised an eyebrow, understanding at once. “What are you up to?”

Da Shu was puzzled. “What do you mean? Are we taking it or not? Are we fighting or not?”

Ji Wei said calmly, “Wait a minute.”

UGC was a very cautious team. If an airdrop landed nearby, someone would inevitably come to claim it. If UGC didn’t want the airdrop, they would usually relocate the moment they saw it land, finding a better position to ambush. If they didn’t—

“They’re going to take the airdrop,” Ji Wei said with a sly smile. “Wait until they’ve taken it before we fight.”

On the big screen, the director finally noticed that a battle was about to begin on this side and switched the camera to AVG.

Mika: “UGC’s got a smoke screen! They’re going for the airdrop.”

Yamy: “Danger, danger, danger… Look up at the fake garage!”

It wasn’t that he hadn’t noticed — KK had noticed it while driving.

Unfortunately, Ji Wei had been busy assigning positions, carefully circling around to find the right angles. KK could only blame his poor luck during the search.

“Level 3 suit! AWM!”

Kelly finished looting and quickly jumped back into the driver’s seat of the Jeep. He instinctively aimed toward the jungle, scanning the area — all he saw was rolling grass and a deserted fake garage.

“Let’s go.” Before the smoke had cleared, he handed the AWM to the team’s gunner and prepared to drive off.

Just as the wheels began to roll—

Ji Wei, crouched by the fake garage, had a stern look on his face. “Attack!”

Ding—

Mika’s scream burst from the commentary booth: “Grenades! Solve and Milly are closing in — throw two grenades! Kelly, run!”

Two black dots arced through the air from behind the reverse slope, aiming straight for the narrow path the Jeep was about to pass.

Boom—

A series of explosions echoed through the arena. Thick smoke billowed, and the giant screen at the center of the field flooded with kill notifications.

[AVG_Solve] used a fragmentation grenade to knock out [UGC_Kelly].

[AVG_Milly] used a fragmentation grenade to knock out [UGC_AM].

…

KK, in a dominant position, suddenly realized his mistake and tried to counterattack—but was shot in the head by Ji Wei, who had been keeping an eye on him. Da Shu then eliminated the last remaining member, and UGC ultimately fell in ninth place.

Yin Sijue, carrying his 98K rifle, looted the AWM from Kelly’s box and brought it to Ji Wei, who was setting up his weapon in the fake garage.

“Thanks.”

Ji Wei discarded the unwanted bullets from his bag and, with a flick of his finger, switched to the game’s most powerful sniper rifle.

The barrage began to wail as the two teams clashed—

[“My hands are made of flesh, can we please not fight? qwq”]

[“How can I not fight? We just got called out for illegal teaming and everyone’s watching!”]

[“Enough already! Kelly’s being manipulated by Unique again!”]

[“From now on, no one except UGC can say the word delivery!“]

[“Sent it! Let Unique get the AWM and no one else can play!”]

[“It’s fine. My team’s gone—let everyone else die however they please.”]

Da Shu pulled over to the side of the road. “Unique, are you leaving?”

Ji Wei glanced at the circle. “Let’s go—to where I marked.”

The battle ended there, and the director didn’t linger, switching the broadcast directly to SOP, who were fighting on the other side at the foot of the mine.

SOP wasn’t a weak team to have made it this far. Their steady mechanics rarely left them disadvantaged by the circle, and their luck was excellent—a stark contrast to AVG, the perpetually unlucky team always denied safe zones.

However, tonight, SOP once again reaffirmed their image as the lucky ones.

Mika: “Am I seeing this right… Zone got the bazooka?”

Yamy was dumbfounded. “Oh my god, no one’s used a bazooka in PGC for two years, right?”

The bazooka was a high-powered, wide-area explosive weapon that only spawned in airdrops. It took up a gun slot and dealt incredible damage — a single shot could easily wipe out an entire team, no matter where they hid.

Once, a team had been hit by a bazooka four times in a single round. After the match, they petitioned the league to ban this unbalanced weapon from competition, but the request was rejected.

However, the bazooka’s appearance in airdrops had decreased, and people gradually stopped mentioning it. Unexpectedly, it reappeared tonight — against SOP.

In the video, SOP easily defeated the Thai team. Zone didn’t use his precious single bullet but instead drove toward the safe zone.

From a bird’s-eye view, viewers could see SOP driving toward AVG, the distance between the two teams gradually closing.

Mika: “Zone came prepared this time.”

Yamy: “AVG’s going to have a tough time.”

In the game, Yin Sijue also guessed that they were about to collide with SOP.

He spoke to Da Shu, who was also stuck on the hillside at the edge of the circle. “See if there are any other cars on the road. Drive over and use them as cover. One car’s too passive.”

The team had lost a vehicle in the battle with UGC. They hadn’t found any good replacements along the way, so the four of them had to squeeze into a single sedan.

Da Shu: “No more. I’ve been keeping an eye out. If I could’ve found one, I’d have been there earlier.”

“That’s tragic,” Mi Li joked. “Wait until SOP comes over — one bomb and they’ll all blow up.”

Perhaps sensing that this team was doomed, the director affectionately cut to AVG’s feed and played their team voice chat.

[“I’m speechless. I’m turning off the stream now, 88.”]

[“Call me again when the second round starts. I can’t stand this.”]

[“They even picked up the bazooka, and you still say there’s nothing fishy going on? Are the organizers SOP’s real dad?”]

[“Mi Li’s really teasing me. I thought they were going to throw a grenade.”]

[“Bad luck’s coming for me too. Fun fact: the team wiped out by the bazooka a few years ago? Four people in one car.”]

[“Damn, I finally saw Unique with an AWM, and he died before he could even warm up to it.”]

The comments were filled with pessimism. No one thought AVG could survive the bazooka’s power.

But those on the field clearly couldn’t predict it. The four AVG players stared intently ahead, waiting for the enemy to appear.

A moment later, a jeep appeared in Ji Wei’s 8x scope.

“Here they come.”

Da Shu also saw it. “Two cars — one passenger in each back seat. The one in the sedan’s rear should be Zone.”

Yin Sijue didn’t hesitate. “Fight.”

The 4v4 match began instantly.

Mika: “Solve hit Flanker, who was driving the car! The jeep’s been stopped, but Mi Li’s been mowed down by Hunter!”

Yamy: “Zone’s sitting in the back seat and hasn’t switched weapons. AVG didn’t see the bazooka on him!”

Mika: “Hunter’s been knocked down by Unique!”

The barrage chat exploded—

[“Why aren’t you killing anyone?!”]

[“Two teammates are down — desperate dogs bite hardest! Zone’s gonna use the big gun!”]

[“AVG will regret not pulling back for the rest of their lives.”]

[“Zone switches weapons.”]

In the game, after Ji Wei knocked down Hunter, he saw Zone suddenly lean out of the car’s back seat, pull something out from behind, and hoist it onto his shoulder.

The next moment, when he saw the weapon clearly, his face went pale and his heart sank like a stone.

Da Shu’s panicked screams echoed through the mic.

“F*ck you! He’s got a bazooka! Run, d*mn it!”

The camera instantly switched to a close-up of Zone — his expression twisted with a ferocious focus, the black muzzle of the weapon aimed directly at AVG’s position.

Mika shook her head. “That one shot will take down at least three members of AVG.”

Yamy: “There’s nothing they can do… It’s a bug in this version. I hope the audience won’t criticize them for it. AVG’s already suffered enough.”

In the game, Ji Wei’s blood froze — all his attention locked on the massive weapon poised on Zone’s shoulder.

What should I do!

What should I do!

Am I just going to get blown up like this?

Time seemed to flow in slow motion. Zone didn’t hesitate — he pressed the fire button decisively. The bazooka traced a straight orange-red line, hurtling toward AVG.

At that moment, time stretched infinitely, and the audience’s hearts leapt into their throats.

Ji Wei held his breath. The high-speed trajectory, the fall angle, the bullet’s flight time — everything slowed in his eyes. Muscle memory overrode thought as he locked the AWM’s crosshairs firmly on the bazooka mid-air.

Can he do it?

He didn’t have time to think. The instant the bazooka came within fifty meters of Solve on the front line, a slender, sharp Magnum bullet shot from Ji Wei’s AWM, piercing straight into the warhead.

A split second later—

Boom!

A deafening explosion burst in mid-air. An orange-red fireball bloomed above the battlefield.

Then, in the next second, the flames vanished — the bazooka’s residual force dissipating into the air.

Standing on open ground were the four unharmed AVG players.

The bazooka had exploded mid-air!

The moment the bazooka exploded, the entire venue fell silent. Only a few Chinese fans stood up and shouted, followed by the two commentators, who had practically devolved into ancient apes.

“Ahhh—holy crap!!!”

On stage, Mika’s voice trembled. “Intercepted… intercepted?!”

“Unique used the AWM to blow up the bazooka mid-air?!”

Yamy, standing beside her, had just finished yelling but didn’t even have the strength to remind Mika that swearing would result in a penalty. She croaked,

“That’s gotta be computer-level, right? No one’s ever pulled that off before.”

Mika: “Yeah, the game’s physics engine has just been proven again—by him. He’s truly the god of bolt-action snipers! Faced with absolute danger, Unique changed the outcome with a single bullet!”

In the game, Yin Sijue watched the bazooka explode before his eyes, his expression flashing with surprise. “Beautiful!”

Da Shu: “Awesome! This is the first time I’ve ever seen a bazooka shell actually explode!”

Mi Li: “That’s incredible.”

Before they could savor their narrow escape, two SOP players were still alive.

Zone, clutching the last few bazooka in his inventory, fired wildly into nothingness. He stared at the screen with bloodshot eyes, jaw clenched, and roared, “Hurry up! Attack!”

SOP’s remaining player didn’t dare breathe, following orders and firing.

But they couldn’t withstand AVG’s blistering form. Yin Sijue dodged and hip-fired, cutting Zone’s health to near zero. Mi Li delivered the finishing shot, and Da Shu tossed a grenade forward—

[AVG_Milly] used an AKM assault rifle to eliminate [SOP_Zone].

[AVG_Solve] used a M416 assault rifle to eliminate [SOP_Hunter].

……

[Team wiped]

….

The first game was a clean win, a comfortable start. In the lounge, everyone sat relaxed, discussing strategy.

Ji Wei munched on chocolate to refuel; he hadn’t eaten much the night before, and hunger had been gnawing at him all day.

“In the next game, Miramar, you’ll be facing a French team. But honestly, there’s nothing to worry about. Just keep an eye on SOP and UGC.”

Ji Wei had never seen any footage of the French team, so he asked uncertainly, “Why not worry?”

“Let me put it this way.” Da Shu yawned from the sofa. “I don’t know how they got into the upper bracket, but I remember last year’s Intercontinental Championship. My computer was lagging so badly it felt like teleporting. Even when I ran into them in P City, they didn’t kill me.”

Mi Li added, “Another time, they blocked a bridge to clear cars. The cars were on fire, but none of us in the vehicles lost a single drop of health.”

Ji Wei: “…”

He finished the last piece of chocolate in disbelief and got up to rinse his mouth.

As he walked out, he noticed someone following closely behind him.

Yin Sijue had been holding back the entire game.

Before this, he could never understand why those two European players would kiss passionately on stage. Couldn’t they do that in private? Why did they have to do it in front of everyone?

But just now, the moment he saw that Magnum bullet pierce through the bazooka, there was an instant—just a split second—when he truly wanted to kiss Ji Wei.

Such an incredible person—

He’s my boyfriend.

Mine.

The game was still ongoing. Yin Sijue forced down the surge of emotion in his chest, wiped out the remaining enemies, and buried that thought deep inside.

In front of the washbasin stood a large mirror. Ji Wei had already noticed Yin Sijue coming in. He turned his head, staring blankly at him.

“Do you need to use the restroom?”

Click—

The sound of the door locking was his only reply.

Yin Sijue turned the lock, lifted Ji Wei up by the thighs, and set him on the counter, his eyes filled with deep longing.

“Let me use you for a bit, okay?”

“I didn’t eat much today either… let me have a bite of chocolate?”

---

---

Chapter 72 – Everything for You

---

After the group stage, there would be a two-day off-season, followed by the second stage of group matches.

Many teams would take this opportunity to invite foreign teams for scrimmages, but this year was different. On the evening after the group stage, no teams from the PCL region accepted any invitations.

The six PCL teams, including the two eliminated ones, sat together in the conference room, angrily discussing the newly issued penalty announcement.

Youyou had just finished a phone call and returned from the hallway. She earnestly told the other teams, “Our decision not to jump to the airport was an internal one. We never discussed it with AVG beforehand.”

UGC’s captain, KK, looked around and said, “SOP insulted our players during the scrimmages. In the first game, they were clearly targeting AVG. I was worried they’d target us next, so we decided to jump to the Zodiac in the second game. We never had any intention of avoiding competition. I hope everyone can trust us.”

MKBK’s captain, Solo, was the first to speak up. “Of course we trust you! They targeted AVG so much in the first game—so why didn’t they penalize us?! And instead, they penalized our entire region? That’s so unfair!”

Da Shu was scrolling through Weibo. “Brother Qiu, did they ask for your consent before making the penalty?”

“No.”

Xu Shaoqiu, exhausted after arguing with the organizing committee all night, collapsed on the sofa. “They just came to inform me of the violation. They said if I had any objections, I could file an appeal.”

“What about appealing?”

Youyou shook her head. “It’s useless. Shaoqiu and I argued with them for a long time. They must have received complaints from other teams before issuing the penalty. We even have video evidence. When we first entered the circle, AVG drove past the Zodiac without firing a single shot. UGC was hiding in a room at the time and used that video to report us.”

Ji Wei said with difficulty, “That was my decision. I was worried about being hunted by the SOP team, so I wanted to find a better position to fight before entering the circle.”

“I was the one driving!” Da Shu rolled his eyes. “I really didn’t see anyone from the Zodiac, okay? And how was I supposed to know UGC was there? How can they say we were teaming up illegally?”

Youyou sighed. “Another sensitive point is the UGC score. We were very close to dropping into the loser’s bracket, but after the second game, we moved up one spot. The score was on the brink, and with the early jump point change, it’s hard to explain.”

KK said, “What’s so hard to explain? We’ll still play in the loser’s bracket anyway. The score resets to zero, and we won’t face AVG. I’d rather be there. Using this as an excuse to attack us is just picking a fight.”

Kelly, young and furious, slammed the sofa. “That idiotic organizer has been messing with us since day one. Even now, we still have to train at internet cafés at our own expense.”

The PCL players present cursed softly. Not everyone had been targeted by SOP, but the two teams that advanced represented the region’s reputation—and being treated like this left a bitter taste for everyone.

A minus-two point deficit wasn’t a life-or-death score; it was just two kills in the match. What made everyone angry was being unceremoniously accused of “violating fair play,” a serious offense in the professional arena—especially when the other team had broken the rules first.

“What about what SOP did to us in the first game?” Mi Li asked angrily. “Can we report it? They can’t just punish us and not punish them, right?”

Youyou said, “I just called to deal with this. I’ve already submitted the video and am waiting for a response from the organizing committee.”

“I don’t think there’s much hope,” Yin Sijue said coldly, pouring cold water on him. “Didn’t the coach report it after the first game? The staff denied it.”

“It’s so difficult…” Xu Shaoqiu slapped his face twice to wake himself up, then said with a wry smile, “It’s okay, don’t get too angry. At least public opinion is on our side. We don’t even have to spend money on PR, haha.”

The air froze for a moment as everyone looked at each other, silently glancing at their phones.

“Manager Xu is so modest! This doesn’t feel like free PR at all…”

Less than half an hour after the penalty announcement was released, Weibo’s trending list, Tieba forums, and even Twitter were blowing up. PCL fans were out in full force, their publicity power so strong that even paid trolls couldn’t compete.

The organizing committee, which had simultaneously posted the penalty announcement on Weibo, bore the brunt of the backlash.

[How much money did SOP pay the organizing committee to let them act so arrogantly?]

[I couldn’t understand this paragraph for a long time. I copied it to PDD, but even he didn’t react.]

[I’ve seen targeted behavior at Worlds, but I’ve never seen the victim punished.]

[There was no illegal teaming. AVG crushed UGC in the late game, so what are you talking about?]

[SOP must have leverage over the higher-ups. They openly brought DT to an illegal teaming event.]

[Isn’t this supposed to be a fair 4v4 competition? Why did AVG end up in a 4v11?]

[It’s hard to believe SOP—those four must have their headphones wedged between their brains.]

Da Shu scrolled through the trending comments on Weibo. “Honestly, I was really angry when I first saw the penalty announcement, but reading the comments made me feel better.”

Kelly nodded. “Actually, I didn’t even beat you guys in the second game today. Normally, the forums would’ve been full of people roasting me. But now everyone’s bashing SOP, so I’ve escaped.”

Da Shu was still scrolling through his phone and laughing when a message suddenly popped up at the top of the screen. He tapped the link and was redirected to a Korean video.

“Holy crap! That idiot Zone even gave an interview?”

Everyone rushed over to watch. The video was from an on-site interview in the PKL region and had been reposted on Chinese social media with subtitles.

In the video, SOP’s captain, Zone, wore that same cocky expression. His chestnut hair was sprayed and combed back, revealing a forehead covered in acne.

He said regretfully to the camera, “According to the rules, illegal teaming can result in a permanent ban. These two PCL teams only received a two-point deduction. They should consider themselves lucky, right? I don’t understand what the fans in that region are mad about. At this stage, where just making the top 16 is enough to advance, a two-point deduction… well, seriously, how is that any different from no penalty at all?”

“Wow… awful!” Ji Wei, who had gathered behind to watch, blurted out a few words of broken Korean before trotting back to complain to Yin Sijue.

“Did you hear that? He’s such an idiot.”

“I heard.” Yin Sijue pinched his face. “We’ll beat them up in the knockout rounds.”

“Yes, they’ll be beaten!” Xu Shaoqiu chimed in. “Practice more teamwork over the next two days. SOP might not be able to beat you in a 4v4, but it’s hard to say if they can win in a mechanics match.”

Kelly caught the key word and immediately retorted, “Their mechanics aren’t that strong either. They actually managed to find you in Hailiu in the second game. Even ten masters wouldn’t be enough to beat them.”

Several teams gathered to ridicule SOP’s ridiculous mechanics before heading back to rest. Before leaving, the two eliminated teams told Xu Shaoqiu they would stay in Korea for free practice sessions and that they could always be contacted if needed.

“Touching! Compatriots really are the best.” After everyone left, Dashu stretched. “I’m going back to sleep too. Everyone, get up early to train tomorrow.”

The teammates left one after another, leaving only Ji Wei and Yin Sijue in the meeting room.

Yin Sijue lowered his gaze and looked at him. “Come to my room for a while?”

Ji Wei asked, “What for?”

Yin Sijue pointed to the camera overhead. “There’s surveillance here.”

“…”

Two rice balls sat on the table in Yin Sijue’s room. They were still warm, bought from the convenience store downstairs after the competition.

Ji Wei sat down, took one, unwrapped it, and started eating. His cheeks puffed up, and after swallowing, he asked, “Did you ask me to bring the rice balls? How did you know I was hungry?”

Yin Sijue sat on the bed, playing with his phone. “Actually, I bought both for myself.”

Ji Wei choked, and the rice ball in his hand immediately lost its flavor.

Yin Sijue chuckled softly. “I was kidding. You didn’t say much tonight, so I bought some food to comfort you.”

“Did SOP piss you off?”

Ji Wei was speechless. He took a big bite of the rice ball, chewing it like he was venting his frustration on Yin Sijue.

After a moment, he whispered, “It’s not just that I’m angry at them…”

Ji Wei tilted his head, his expression gloomy. “It’s just… I’m wondering if they’re targeting us so much now because I asked Da Shu to dance on their corpses.”

Yin Sijue sighed helplessly. “Weiwei, can you really blame yourself for that?”

“…”

He walked over and sat next to Ji Wei. “It doesn’t matter whether you danced or not. These people will always find a reason to target us. Finishing first in the group stage is already enough to make us a thorn in SOP’s side.”

“Oh…” Ji Wei grinned, tucking away the last piece of rice ball.

Yin Sijue stared at his rolling Adam’s apple and whispered, “A kiss?”

How did the topic change so fast? Ji Wei covered his mouth. He wanted a kiss, but he had just finished eating.

“Wait until I brush my teeth!”

He still had a lot of idol baggage. Watching the boy run into the bathroom, Yin Sijue leaned back on the sofa and waited lazily.

Ji Wei quickly finished brushing, skipped back, and sat on the sofa, pouting as he tilted his face up for a kiss.

Yin Sijue caught the faint minty scent of hotel toothpaste. His lips curled slightly as he leaned in, pecked the soft pink of Ji Wei’s lips, then cupped his face and deepened the kiss.

Ji Wei clung to him, breathless, his hands scratching at his back uncontrollably.

As his fingertips traced up Yin Sijue’s spine to his neck, Yin Sijue released him, took his wandering hand, and wrapped it in his own.

“Leave the rest for after the game.”

Ji Wei panted softly, too embarrassed to look up. “The rest… what?”

Yin Sijue didn’t answer, a smile flickering in his eyes. “What do you want?”

Ji Wei was greedy. “Everything.”

Yin Sijue murmured fondly, “Then I’ll give you everything.”

…

“Oh my god, you have no idea. My whole week was filled with Koreans. When SOP killed you, everyone around us was screaming!”

On the 15^th, the four members of AVG were at Lin Tao’s house, listening to him ramble nonstop. “Then in the second game, when they didn’t kill you and got wiped out instead, those Koreans were just stunned—completely speechless.”

He had been ranting for half an hour and finally took a sip of water. “Why is it only Lao Ma here? Where’s Brother Qiu?”

Mi Li replied, “He’s at the hotel working. He needs to submit evidence to report SOP for illegal teaming.”

“Oh, that needs to be submitted quickly.” Lin Tao, seeing Mi Li still waiting for a match, dragged his swivel chair over to him.

“Brother Mi Li, why don’t I see any Chinese people at the tournament? It’s so frustrating not understanding what anyone’s saying.”

Mi Li took off one side of his headphones. “That’s normal. PUBG isn’t as popular as other games in China. Of course there’ll be fewer Chinese spectators at international events. Flights, food, and lodging all cost money, right? Having fans supporting us back home is already enough.”

“Well, that’s true…” Lin Tao nodded thoughtfully and left the practice room, giving the four starters space.

After a full day of practice, everyone stayed at Lin Tao’s for dinner. While eating, Ji Wei scrolled through his phone and saw the tournament committee’s latest Weibo post.

---

@PGC Referee Committee: Answers to recent questions.

Dear players and viewers:

In response to recent concerns from some viewers regarding the lack of penalties against two other Korean teams in the PGC tournament, the organizing committee conducted a thorough review and replay and hereby provides the following clarification:

1. In the first round on the Erangel map, although SOP, DT, and WNL all deviated from their usual drop points and landed in the same general area as AVG, post-match system data and a complete review of the footage indicate that the following circumstances do not constitute violations:

1. Although SOP and DT changed their drop points, the overlapping landing areas were temporary decisions, with no evidence of prior consultation or coordination.
2. The two teams engaged in combat immediately upon landing, with clear exchanges of fire and competition for resources—consistent with normal match logic.
3. No avoidance of engagement or coordinated behavior was observed between DT and WNL, and thus their actions did not constitute passive play.

Thank you for your attention and supervision of the tournament. We will continue to strengthen on-site monitoring and strive to provide you with a fairer and more exciting competition experience.

---

After reading this irrelevant announcement, everyone received a new notification on WeChat.
Xu Shaoqiu, who had spent the entire day preparing the report materials for submission, posted a pitiful emoji in the group chat:

[Suspected of losing all strength and means.jpg]

Ji Wei couldn’t help but laugh. “Brother Qiu, you’re so pitiful…”

Yin Sijue shook his head helplessly. “At least I tried.”

The failed report was expected, and no one felt particularly angry. After dinner, they simply went back to training.

But just because the players weren’t angry didn’t mean the netizens weren’t.

The double standard alone was disgusting enough—but the committee even posted three consecutive explanations to exonerate the Korean teams. It was simply outrageous.

Furious fans flooded the official Weibo account, forcing the organizing committee to enable limited comment visibility.

Not satisfied with just Weibo, netizens also stormed SOP Club’s Twitter account, directly hitting their sore spots:

[Lipzhu came up with this despicable trick on a whim.]

[SOP is trash, I agree—just breathe.]

[Professional players? More like professional bootlickers. Hilarious.]

[Not even as good as AVG.]

[Where did you even find these clowns?]

[The most shameless of the shameless.]

SOP had a huge following on Korean social media, and when their fans saw their comments section being bombarded, they immediately jumped in to fight back:

[Who flew home after the first game at Worlds, again?]

[Some people should stop obsessing over our PKL players, kkk.]

[Jealous much?]

The fans of the Simplified Chinese competition were all conflicted. Seeing fans of the opposing team reply only made them angrier—

[I really wish SOP’s skills were as strong as their fans’ words.]

[What are you barking about? You can only beat AVG in a 3v1, and you still have the nerve to bark?]

[I don’t even understand what you’re saying. SOP is a complete joke.]

[All talk, all bots.]

[No need to feel inferior—you can keep being bad if you like.]

[I was too gentle before. You think PCL is easy to mess with, huh?]

[SOP, a roadside clown.]

This war of words caused quite a stir online. Foreign friends who joined in the fun spent a long time translating it and discovered the depth of the Chinese language—gaining a newfound appreciation for the creativity of Chinese trolls.

However, no matter how fierce the online battle became, the people at the center of public attention didn’t even see it.

It was already two in the morning after the last match. After saying goodbye to Lin Tao, the AVG members dragged their exhausted bodies back to the hotel by car. They fell into deep sleep, and the next day was yet another full day of scrimmages.

There are no shortcuts in professional competition. Talent is merely the entry ticket; victory comes only through relentless practice and constant self-improvement.

…

The night before the group match.

Ji Wei’s sniping had been off during the afternoon scrimmages, so he stayed behind in the training room until the early hours, repeating the same motion over and over until his wrist went stiff and numb.

At the shooting range, he reloaded his bolt-action sniper rifle, fired a single shot at a moving target, and repeated the cycle again and again.

Ji Wei had been playing an older version of the game and had been a top-tier bolt-action sniper for several years. Guns like the AWM and M24 were his trump cards, helping him secure at least five kills per match. But as his opponents grew stronger, the slow rate of fire of bolt-action rifles became increasingly unforgiving in competition.

In the current meta, almost every professional sniper—except Ji Wei—uses semi-automatic sniper rifles. They deal less damage but have a faster rate of fire, making them more adaptable in combat. After all, no sniper can guarantee a one-shot headshot with a bolt-action rifle against a fast-moving target.

The same applied to Ji Wei. Even though he held the highest official hit rate among all bolt-action snipers since his debut, he still made mistakes.

During an afternoon practice match, he missed a shot at Kelly, who was running in the distance. The mistake gnawed at him, and he practiced nonstop—without eating or drinking—from that evening until early morning.

When his magazine finally ran empty and he reached for more bullets, a chill brushed against his ear. Someone had removed his headphones.

Yin Sijue glanced at the screen. The moving target was covered in bullet holes—every one piercing the bullseye.

“Take a break. You’ve been training too long.”

He took Ji Wei’s hand and pressed it a few times. “I’ve got some ointment in my bag. Do you want to use it?”

Ji Wei shook his head. “I brought some too. I’ll put it on before bed.”

Yin Sijue continued to gently massage his palm, and perhaps it was psychological, but the numbness seemed to ease a little.

Ji Wei opened the training match replay again, watching in silence, his mood heavy.

“How about I use a DMR in tomorrow’s match instead? It’s easier to pick up anyway.”

“What do you think?” He sought his boyfriend’s opinion.

Yin Sijue could clearly sense his anxiety. He tugged Ji Wei closer by the arm and took away his phone.

“If you’re asking me, then the answer’s obviously a bolt-action.”

“No one can beat you when you’re using one.”

That was true. Even someone as skilled as Solve couldn’t win against Ji Wei in a one-on-one with bolt-action rifles.

Feeling sweet from the compliment, Ji Wei pounced on him and took a playful bite at his collarbone.

“But what if I miss again?”

“Hss—” Yin Sijue tilted his chin up and rubbed his thumb against Ji Wei’s sharp canine tooth.

“That shot at Kelly this afternoon was too far. It’s normal to make a mistake when you’re using a 4x scope.”

“Even if you miss—worst-case scenario—you still have me, don’t you?”

He cupped Ji Wei’s face, kneading his soft, tender cheeks twice.

“I’ll cover you.”

---

---

Chapter 71 – Abnormal Drop Point Changes?

---

Xu Shaoqiu, watching the match from backstage, went pale.

Lao Ma stared at the screen for a long moment, mentally cursing. “They’re all PKL teams…”

“Can I file a complaint? Isn’t this considered malicious targeting? Can’t I report it to the tournament organizers right now?”

Xu Shaoqiu shook his head firmly. “It’s only the beginning — not yet. They could just say their route is shorter, so they switched to Port G. We can’t argue with that.”

“Damn it…”

In-game, Ji Wei, controlling his character as he rapidly descended, frowned and asked Da Shu, “How many teams are there?”

“Three! But not full squads — one team only has three players.” Da Shu’s heart was pounding. “They’re wearing the same outfit!”

In professional tournaments, players can identify their opponents by their skin choices and preferred weapons. Experienced players memorize each team’s usual skins for quick recognition and analysis.

Conversely, when multiple teams wear the same skins, it creates confusion — even the officials can’t tell who’s fighting whom.

The PCL commentator’s face darkened upon seeing four teams drop onto G Port in succession.

Mika glanced at the cheering Korean audience behind him and said sharply, “Currently, SOP, DT, and WNL have all changed their drop points and are preparing to land at G Port.”

Yamy held back her anger on camera. “These three teams are using identical skins to target AVG’s drop point, creating significant obstacles for the local players to gather early-game information.”

“This situation is extremely rare in competitive play.” Mika, unable to stay neutral any longer, said pointedly, “There’s no way this is just a coincidence.”

The online commentators were less restrained — the chat erupted with outrage:

[“There’s no way that’s a coincidence!”]

[“What are they doing? Aren’t they afraid of getting wiped out? SOP is second in points — they’re already guaranteed a group stage spot. Are they just trying to mess with AVG? Like a pack of mad dogs!”]

[“If they keep this up, AVG’s group stage will be a nightmare. Why is my team the one getting this treatment? Please, just stop already!”]

Elsewhere, Ji Wei parachuted onto the top of a container, picked up a SCAR, and immediately knocked down the player next to him.

“WNL down one.”

Da Shu ran while reporting, “One team’s dropping on the containers, and another’s landing at the warehouse behind us.”

Mi Li, having just landed, grabbed a UMP45 and quickly warned, “Two chutes are empty — one landed faster than me. I might not be able to hold out.”

Yin Sijue moved to observe the terrain. “We need to break through somehow. If all three sides close in, we’ll be trapped, and it’ll be hard to fight our way out.”

Ji Wei frowned. “I’ve taken out the WNL guys, but I’m out of ammo. There’s more than one heading for the containers.”

“I’ll go over,” Yin Sijue said.

“Don’t come!” Ji Wei gritted his teeth, dodging a hail of bullets. “It’s too late!”

At that moment, the off-site camera cut to the SOP duo advancing. They leapt down from the upper level of the containers, pulled out their S1897 shotguns, and blocked Unique right at the small warehouse entrance.

A few muffled gunshots rang out — Ji Wei, who hadn’t managed to pick up any bullets, was unfortunately knocked down.

Meanwhile, DT slowly advanced down the slope, using grenades to block the retreat path outside the warehouse. SOP’s snipers had already set up their Mini-14s along the south side of the G Port highway, perfectly suppressing AVG’s rear guard.

“You can see two DT players holding the backline while two SOP players push forward — one covering from high ground and dealing damage, leaving AVG almost no chance of survival.”

Offstage, commentator Mika frowned, his voice rising in disbelief. “These three teams usually don’t coordinate at all, but now they’re suddenly showing this level of synergy…”

Yamy took a deep breath, swallowing the curse on the tip of her tongue. “SOP just used a grenade! The tree near the warehouse is in danger!”

On the big screen, the free camera zoomed out. SOP’s grenade exploded near the warehouse, sending a large tree crashing to the ground.

At the same time, Mi Li — fighting alone near the middle warehouse — lost a 1v3 duel against a DT player and was also knocked down.

Solve was left alone, facing nearly ten enemies around the containers.

He managed to shoot down a SOP assaulter with an AKM and tried to slip through a gap between containers, but was immediately hit by a sniper round to the head, ending the match.

Finally, the screen froze on the red text “20^th Place.” All AVG members were eliminated.

In tournament rules, players eliminated during a match cannot leave early; they must remain seated, staring at the blank screen until the round ends.

Seizing on the emotional moment — and recalling the pre-match interviews that hinted at a close bond between two AVG players — the broadcast director cut to a close-up of Ji Wei’s face the instant Solve fell.

Under the bright lights, Ji Wei’s already fair skin looked almost translucent. His brows drew together slightly, his gaze on the screen cold and distant.

Realizing the camera was on him, he lifted his head, face expressionless.

The corners of Ji Wei’s eyes drooped slightly, but at this moment, he no longer looked innocent or fragile — only beautiful and cold. That single glance sent a chill through the audience.

…

D3 finished last in the first round of the group stage. In previous years, AVG would have been roasted and sent home in disgrace.

But this time, there were almost no insults in the comments — all the cursing was aimed at SOP’s ancestors instead.

[“@SOP Grass Mud Daddy”]

[“Unique looked furious.”]

[“What’s wrong with SOP? Why are they targeting a team that isn’t even from their region?”]

[“AVG only took first place in the group stage… How fragile is SOP’s ego to play so dirty right from the start?”]

[“Hard not to suspect some personal grudge.”]

[“Heard SOP said some nasty things to Solve and Unique backstage — something about sexual orientation

discrimination. You can fill in the blanks.”]

[“Unbelievable. What era is this? How are these idiots still so backward?”]

[“Also, wasn’t that a foul? Didn’t the ref call anything?”]

At that moment, backstage, Xu Shaoqiu was also ready to ask one last question.

SOP ultimately won the match. As Ji Wei and the others were leaving the arena, they had barely taken a few steps when they heard Xu Shaoqiu’s furious voice echoing from the locker room.

“At the 2019 PGC, the Thai players deliberately targeted the Korean team. The officials ruled it as negative play and disqualified them. So why didn’t you do that this time?”

Speaking fluent Korean, Xu Shaoqiu practically spat the words at the organizers. “This is completely negative play! Malicious targeting! That’s supposed to be a suspension offense, you idiots!”

The staff member on the other end kept giving an eloquent explanation, but Ji Wei — who couldn’t understand — turned helplessly to Yin Sijue.

“The referee said the three Korean teams engaged in hostile behavior after landing, and that SOP even knocked down a DT player,” Yin Sijue translated flatly. “They claim there was no negative play, and that changing the drop point was a rational decision based on the flight path and circle.”

He let out a cold snort. “What a ‘rational decision.’”

“Bullshit!” Da Shu burst out. “He knocked down the DT player, had the chance to finish him off, but turned around and threw a grenade at me instead! He came to finish me off after I was already down, and the DT player he ‘hit’ was revived right after!”

Mi Li tugged at Xu Shaoqiu’s sleeve. “Forget it, it’s just one game. Brother Qiu, stop arguing with them. They’re doing all this precisely so the ref can’t call them out — especially since the ref’s one of their own.”

“What rotten luck!” Xu Shaoqiu rolled his eyes for what felt like the hundredth time, then flopped onto the sofa. “The next match is still on the island. What do we do? Change our drop point?”

Yin Sijue lowered his head in thought. “Actually, with our current score, even if we die early in the next few matches, we’re still guaranteed to advance to Stage Two of the group stage.”

The PGC format stipulates that the top sixteen teams from the group stage advance to the winners’ bracket in the second stage, while the bottom sixteen go to the losers’ bracket. The two brackets then compete separately, with all group stage points reset to zero in Stage Two.

That’s also why SOP was stirring up trouble. Whether they won or lost, their score wouldn’t affect their standing in the next stage.

Xu Shaoqiu narrowed his eyes at Yin Sijue. “Don’t tell me you’re planning to jump to G Port and fight them head-on.”

“Three-team fight, guaranteed win,” Yin Sijue replied coolly. “Can you please stop doubting me for once?”

“Oh, not really.” Yin Sijue fiddled with the keyboard cable. “They went to Port G. SOP’s original jump point — the airport — is empty, so let’s go there instead.”

“But UGC is also in Group C. If we jump to the airport, we might run into them. They’re only ranked eighth right now. If they fall into the losers’ bracket next round, will you still be able to chase Youyou?”

“You—” Xu Shaoqiu nearly jumped out of his seat. “How did you know I was— No! Don’t pry into your manager’s private life! Is now really the time to talk about that?”

He paused to think, then nodded. “Jumping to the airport is doable. It might slow down our entry route, but at least we won’t get surrounded early on.”

“As for UGC, they’re unpredictable at Worlds. Sometimes they drop at the airport, sometimes at Zodiac. If we run into them, we’ll just have to fight.”

…

After the intermission, the players returned to the stage. The commentators replayed the highlights from Game 1, and soon, Game 2 began.

AVG stuck to their plan and switched their drop point to the airport — effectively trading spots with SOP.

However, SOP’s tactic was always the same: send three players to cause trouble, and one to the airport. As soon as Yin Sijue landed, he shot the lone SOP player dead, instantly revealing AVG’s location.

AVG Solve used his UZI to finish off SOP Flanker.

Yin Sijue said, “Kill him! That’s SOP’s flex player. Same as before — they split their squad, sent one to the airfield, and the other three to G Port to block us.”

Ji Wei replied, “We need to get into the circle early this time. They’ll probably chase us soon.”

“Got it. Everyone, loot quickly — stay calm.” Yin Sijue and Mi Li took out another enemy who had dropped at the airfield with just two shots. “As long as we build up early, we can win.”

Da Shu added, “Good thing UGC didn’t drop here this time. We didn’t have to fight anyone when we landed.”

In the second phase, the safe zone spawned in the area around P City. AVG ended up on the weaker side. While crossing the bridge, SOP — having caught wind of their route — seized the opportunity to ambush them. Da Shu and Mi Li were killed in the skirmish.

By the third phase, the remaining three SOP players trapped Ji Wei and Yin Sijue in Hailiu.

From their perspective, AVG — now down to two — tried desperately to hide and reposition, but their locations were soon exposed. In the end, they had nowhere left to run.

In reality, the leak was intentional — a setup by Yin Sijue. The two had looted so much at the airport that they were practically armed to the teeth, just one step away from taking SOP’s heads.

Five minutes later, SOP — rushing recklessly into Hailiu — was wiped out by the combined firepower of Solve and Unique, dropping them to 14th place.

It was SOP’s worst result since the start of the PGC.

After the final circle refreshed, AVG ran into UGC — a team from the same region — on their way in. Following a grueling fight, AVG, once again reduced to only two players, managed to defeat the fully staffed UGC squad and claimed first place in the round.

“Good news — only two AVG players are left,” Mika quipped, glancing at the big screen. “Bad news — those two are Solve and Unique.”

Yamy smiled. “Couples really are incredible. KK and Kelly’s teamwork was great just now, but even they couldn’t beat them.”

Mika laughed. “The well-deserved twin stars of the PCL.”

The live chat was flooded with amused comments about SOP’s downfall:

[“@Bluehole, can you please stop being such a couple? Not when you’re on my team!”]

[“Does anyone else feel the same rush of redemption I did when Solve got battered by KK just now? I thought he was done for — then Unique headshotted KK. That’s basically a DIY clutch kill!”

][“Ahhh, is anyone watching the player cam? Solve smiled when KK went down! He actually smiled!”]

[“UGC fans, spare a thought for poor KK. I almost feel bad for him.”]

[“Unique looked like he was having the time of his life… but his face when Solve died last match was terrifying QAQ”]

[“He’s usually cheerful and sweet, but the moment Solve’s in trouble, he turns deadly serious. Just like at the last All-Star Game.”]

In Game 2, AVG took the chicken dinner and clawed their way back from their earlier loss.

Having learned their lesson, SOP didn’t try to contest AVG’s drop points again — and who could even predict where AVG would go next?

Without the “Mad Dog” interference, AVG breezed through the next four games, ultimately advancing to Stage Two of the group stage with the highest score.

Throughout the group stage, AVG’s countless highlight plays redefined their global image. From last year’s semifinal run to this season’s dominant showing, AVG once again established themselves as championship favorites — a true world-class powerhouse.

Especially for the new player Unique, many foreign viewers had previously known him only as “Solve’s boyfriend.”

Now, however, highlight reels of his gameplay were going viral overseas. With his calm demeanor and meticulous playstyle, he had gained a loyal fanbase and become a true star player.

Yet, just as the crowd was still celebrating AVG’s success, the PGC Global Esports Championship Disciplinary Committee unexpectedly released a penalty announcement.

---

Notice to All Participating Teams and Viewers:

During the 202X PUBG Global Championship (PGC), the event supervision team, through routine replay reviews and tactical behavior analysis, discovered that two teams from the same region showed abnormal changes in their drop points on Match Day 3 (G Port → Airport; Airport → Zodiac).
This behavior is suspected to be prearranged in order to avoid direct competition.

After review, the organizing committee has confirmed that this conduct violates Article 4, Chapter 6 of the PGC Tournament Management Regulations, which prohibits non-temporary acts of cooperation between teams.

Accordingly, the committee has decided to impose the following penalties:

• Team AVG and Team UGC: Effective immediately, both teams will be deducted two points from their scores in the first match of Stage Two of the group stage.
• Both teams will also receive an official warning. Any further violations will result in more severe consequences.

This announcement is hereby issued.

---

---

Chapter 70 – I’ve Always Been Thinking About This Day

---

The night before the PGC tournament began, Xu Shaoqiu gathered everyone together to briefly discuss the group stage situation.

He flipped through the printed list and said, “We’re pretty lucky this time. Group A doesn’t have any strong teams. But Group B has SNS from the European region, and they’ll be facing us tomorrow. We need to be careful with their two attacking players. They’re a couple who’ve been together for years and have great chemistry. Try to avoid direct 2v2s with them.”

Da Shu scoffed. “What’s wrong with couples? You’re talking as if we don’t have any. Tsk.”

Xu Shaoqiu slammed the document on the table. “You’re comparing us? Our couple hasn’t even been together for a few months. Did you forget you couldn’t beat those SNS guys in a 2v2 last year?”

Da Shu pressed on. “That’s because you didn’t ask Unique for his ID photo and get him signed earlier. So how can you say we’ve only been together for a few months?”

Xu Shaoqiu took a deep breath and brushed off the argument. “Nothing more to say. The tougher SOP team is in Group C—we won’t meet them until the third day. If everything’s clear, go back and get some sleep.”

“I have something,” Ji Wei raised his hand quietly. “Can you give me my phone back?”

“Huh?” Xu Shaoqiu glanced at him in surprise. “You still don’t have it? Oh, right—I might’ve forgotten.”

He rummaged through his bag for a while before pulling out Ji Wei’s phone and handing it to him. “I already blocked and deleted those idiots who were harassing you. After that interview, they completely lost it. They’d send you a couple of insults every day like they were punching a clock.”

Ji Wei took the phone and found only a few scattered messages from Ji Lin in his chat list. Xu Shaoqiu had already cleared out the rest for him.

“Thank you, Brother Qiu.”

Xu Shaoqiu waved him off. “What’s there to thank me for? By the way, how did you manage yesterday without your phone? Did you sleep in Solve’s room again?”

Before Ji Wei could reply, Da Shu spoke up first. “Report! We played scrims all day yesterday. I saw them go back to their own rooms. They didn’t sleep together!”

Yin Sijue, who was replying to a message, shot him a cold glance.

“If you paid as much attention to your gameplay as you do to gossip, you’d have been MVP long ago.”

Xu Shaoqiu: “By the way, how was your practice match yesterday? I was so busy cleaning up Unique’s mess that I didn’t make it back to see.”

Da Shu smiled faintly. “We lost almost all of them.”

Xu Shaoqiu: “?”

Lao Ma tugged at his sleeve. “I sent you a message yesterday, but you probably didn’t see it. The training computers provided by the organizers are terrible. Not only are there network lags and slowdowns, but two of them don’t even have sound. How can you play PUBG without sound?”

Da Shu stood up and complained at the top of his lungs. “No sound—forget it! We were playing rock-paper-scissors, and the loser had to use one of the silent computers. I was the first to lose, so I didn’t hear a single footstep all day!”

Mi Li snorted coldly. “Unique lost second, but he wasn’t as noisy as you.”

Da Shu: “Bullshit! I always listen to the captain. I said I’d share that crappy computer with him the next day, but what about me? Anyone want to trade? You? You?”

Mi Li: “I won’t.”

“Stop arguing.” Xu Shaoqiu turned to Lao Ma and asked, “Have you complained to the organizers?”

Lao Ma: “They told us yesterday to wait for a response, but there’s still no update today.”

Xu Shaoqiu frowned. “These Koreans are so unreliable! I’ll talk to them later. You can all go back and rest.”

After a full day of training, everyone had persevered, even with the faulty computers. Da Shu was already exhausted—his back and waist ached.

“Then I’m going back to bed. I’ll see my family tomorrow.”

Yin Sijue and Ji Wei were the last to leave. After their teammates had entered their rooms, Ji Wei heard someone beside him ask quietly, “Are you hungry?”

Ji Wei, too tired from losing all day to eat, looked up and blinked. “A little, but there’s nowhere else to eat right now.”

“There’s a 7-Eleven next to the hotel. Come with me?”

Five minutes later, the two of them sat on a bench outside the 7-Eleven, enjoying the last of their instant noodles.

It was late at night. The streetlights were dim, the convenience store nearly empty except for a dozing clerk, and a few pedestrians passed by now and then. No one noticed the two esports players—who would take the world stage tomorrow—sitting behind the transparent glass.

Ji Wei was indeed hungry. Unsatisfied with just the noodles, he took two sips of the soup and sighed in contentment.

Yin Sijue propped his head up and looked at him. “Still hungry?”

It was quiet outside. Yin Sijue’s voice was low, slightly rough, with a magnetic undertone—like it had been polished by sandpaper.

Ji Wei wiped his mouth and shook his head faintly.

“Tomorrow’s your first Worlds match. Nervous?”

Yin Sijue covered his phone. The WeChat message was from Xu Shaoqiu, who couldn’t sleep. After today’s poor scrims, he was worried Ji Wei might be affected, so he’d asked the captain—and boyfriend—to check on him in advance.

“Not nervous, just a little excited.” Ji Wei hooked Yin Sijue’s pinky finger. “I’ve been dreaming of this day—fighting side by side with you on the World Championship stage.”

Yin Sijue’s eyes curved slightly. “Yeah, me too.”

After their late-night snack, the two returned to their room, feeling full. Yin Sijue closed the door behind Ji Wei, keeping the rest of his words to himself.

Me too. Ever since I signed my AVG trial contract at seventeen, I’ve been dreaming of this day.

Three years late, but the wait is finally over.

…

The next day, during the first round-robin of the PUBG Global Championship group stage, the Chinese team AVG topped the opening standings with 61 points.

Ji Wei felt nothing as he stepped down from the stage. The six games had passed in the blink of an eye—easier than even the Summer Split regular season.

“This is how the group stage went.” Da Shu packed up his peripherals, humming a little tune as he prepared to leave. “But this time was definitely easier. We pulled more than ten points ahead of second-place SNS.”

“Damn, speaking of SNS,” Xu Shaoqiu leaned over to gossip. “You guys might not have noticed on stage just now, but when they won the third round, those two attackers actually kissed on stage.”

Ji Wei’s eyes widened. “On stage…? So bold?”

Mi Li smacked his keyboard. “You didn’t see it? What were we doing? We totally missed the show.”

Xu Shaoqiu pulled out his phone. “And their attacker, GUN—he tweeted that no matter what result they get at Worlds, as long as they stand on the podium, he’ll propose.”

“Oh my god, that’s going to be a hot topic whether they win or not. How smart.” Da Shu turned to look at his two teammates. “So… you two want to consider it?”

Ji Wei: “…”

Yin Sijue had played relaxed all day. He lazily pulled Ji Wei into his arms and whispered in his ear, “What do you think, Unique?”

Ji Wei’s cheeks burned. “We can’t get married…”

Da Shu pricked up his ears, eavesdropping. “So you’re already considering it?”

Yin Sijue pressed Ji Wei’s face against his shoulder, his cold eyes cutting him a look.

Da Shu: “I’m backing off.”

Once they’d reached a distance where no one could eavesdrop, Yin Sijue released Ji Wei and stroked his hair. “We could get married abroad—or in-game.”

Ji Wei, still stunned by the first half of the sentence: “?!”

What does it mean to get married in a game? Since when did PUBG turn into a couple simulator?

Beside him, Yin Sijue stifled a laugh. “We’ll open a custom room and invite everyone from the super topic. I’ll buy roses and candles from the prop store, line the street with ‘Marry Me’ signs, and you can stand on the overpass and watch…”

Ji Wei was stunned. He shook his head, leaving a faint shadow behind. “No, no, no—I don’t want that.”

Yin Sijue pursed his lips in a smile, about to continue teasing him when a sudden, exaggerated cry came from behind.

Backstage was a place where every contestant could come and go freely. In this day and age, open couples were nothing new. Yin Sijue and his partner were close and didn’t bother to hide it, so most people just laughed or gossiped a little before moving on.

But not everyone was so normal.

SOP didn’t have a match that day, yet they had still shown up at the venue. A group of them walked over from the lounge, their eyes fixed on the pair like searchlights—filled with a mix of disgust and mocking curiosity.

Leading them was their team captain, Zone, a tall, thin man with chestnut-colored hair. As he passed by, he looked them up and down and said something in a foreign language, his tone dripping with malice.

Ji Wei didn’t understand a word, but he could feel the naked hostility in every syllable.

Ironically, Ji Lin had warned him over dinner that this path wouldn’t be easy. Still, Ji Wei hadn’t expected his first brush with discrimination to come from a fellow competitor—someone his own age.

The air went taut, like a string stretched to the breaking point. Yin Sijue stepped slightly forward, shielding the others behind him, his eyes growing colder. Just as he was about to speak, Xu Shaoqiu came rushing back from the front.

“Yes, those are the ones!” Xu Shaoqiu grabbed a staff member and pointed directly at the SOP players. “Does the organizer allow contestants to openly discriminate against others on-site? Or should I take this online and ask for your advice there?”

The staff member’s face drained of color. A sensitive incident like this going public would cause an uproar and cast a long shadow over next year’s event. The organizers couldn’t afford a scandal of that scale.

He immediately escorted the SOP players backstage and, together with the tournament officials, issued a stern warning: if anything like this happened again, they’d face a heavy fine.

Xu Shaoqiu stayed behind to ensure the fine was issued before returning to the team. “Tsk. That small amount of money won’t even sting them.”

In the car, as Xu Shaoqiu explained what had happened, Da Shu said disapprovingly, “I don’t think they were really discriminating. They’re just pissed about our last scrims and wanted payback.”

Mi Li: “Maybe so, Captain. What exactly did they say?”

Yin Sijue crossed his arms, his face blank. “They said, ‘Wow, isn’t this that player Unique we destroyed last time? Turns out she’s dating Solve. It’s disgusting—two men together. Are they polluting the place? You won’t be so lucky when we meet on the field the day after tomorrow.’”

Xu Shaoqiu, sitting in the passenger seat, nearly spat water all over the windshield. “How dare you translate that! Unique, don’t take it to heart. They’re just foul-mouthed idiots—”

“You know Korean?” Ji Wei looked at Yin Sijue in admiration, his eyes twinkling. “Teach me next time.”

“I learned a little when I was a kid.” Moved by Ji Wei’s cuteness, Yin Sijue pinched his palm. “I’ll teach you when we get home tonight.”

Xu Shaoqiu: “…”

Mi Li: “By the way, Brother Qiu, can you fix that computer issue? My PC’s basically dead right now. We’re training all day tomorrow—we won’t have to use those broken machines again, right?”

For players, both hand feel and mentality were crucial. Questions crammed the night before an exam might not show up the next day, but whether or not you practiced before a match could make or break your performance.

Xu Shaoqiu bristled at the thought. “They said the practice room’s full and there’s no way to switch. I even asked UGC, but their machines are down too. So we’ll have to go to an internet café to practice. I swear, we’ve never suffered such injustice before.”

Da Shu: “Huh? Then what do we do? Go to an internet café too?”

Xu Shaoqiu was already typing furiously on his phone. “That’s our only option for now. I know you’re all precious. I’ll find one with private rooms. And I’ll keep complaining to those useless organizers!”

Ji Wei sat bored in the back seat, scrolling through his phone. “Why are the Worlds conditions so awful this year? Were things this bad before?”

Yin Sijue said coolly, “Never this bad.”

“The organizers are such a bummer this time…”

His phone buzzed. Ji Wei received a WeChat message from a friend—

Taotao Taotao: [Brother Wei! I just realized you guys are competing in Korea after watching the live stream! Congrats on getting first place!]

Taotao Taotao: [I’m in Korea too! When’s your next match? I’ll buy a ticket and come watch!]

“Hm?” Ji Wei typed back, lips curving in surprise at the coincidence.

Weiwei Dounan: [Thanks. The next match is the day after tomorrow. You don’t need to buy a ticket—I’ll ask Brother Qiu to get one for you.]

Up front, Xu Shaoqiu was juggling several phone calls, muttering, “All the nearby cafés are full. I bet the other teams went too. I’m definitely filing a complaint with the organizers over this—next year if I have to…”

Ji Wei suddenly had an idea and texted Lin Tao again.

Weiwei Dounan: [Do you know any good internet cafés near Hotel XX?]

Taotao Taotao: [I’ve never been to an internet café in Korea. Why? What happened?]

Weiwei Dounan: [The organizers’ training PCs are a mess, so we’ll have to find an internet café ourselves. [/CatCrying]]

Taotao Taotao: [Huh?]

Then his phone rang—Lin Tao was actually calling.

“What the hell? Pro players’ training computers aren’t working? This is the first time I’ve heard the PGC organizers being that lame.”

Ji Wei sighed. “Yeah, so now we can only find an internet café.”

There was a brief pause before Lin Tao said, “How about you guys come to my place?”]

Ji Wei was stunned. “Your home? You… have a home in Korea?”

Lin Tao replied matter-of-factly, “I have homes in many places.”

Ji Wei had the call on speaker, and everyone turned to look at him in disbelief.

Where did you meet this rich second-generation kid?

“Uh…” Ji Wei turned the phone slightly away and explained to his teammates, “This is Lin Tao, the player I tried out with before. Do you remember him?”

Xu Shaoqiu immediately realized, “I remember that kid who came here during summer vacation just to spite his parents. He’s only fifteen, right?”

Lin Tao didn’t hear Xu Shaoqiu’s words and continued, “Come on, come on. I’ve got top-of-the-line computers at home, but only two. I can have someone buy two more right away.”

Ji Wei hesitated. “Won’t… won’t that be too expensive?”

“Expensive? Are you talking about me?”

“…”

Finally, Xu Shaoqiu took the phone and, after thanking him profusely, accepted the invitation.

Da Shu was still dazed by Lin Tao’s earlier words: I have homes in many places.

“We actually had such an amazing trainee on our team? Why didn’t you keep him, Brother Qiu? You’re out of your mind!”

Xu Shaoqiu replied, “He clearly wasn’t interested in going pro back then. He was just playing for fun. As soon as the tryout ended, he told me he was going back to school.”

“Oh my god,” Da Shu grinned. “Rich people treating pro gaming like a hobby—it’s unbelievable.”

Half an hour later, the AVG team stood inside an elegant villa with its own fountain and garden, realizing just how many unimaginable things existed in this world.

Da Shu barely remembered the trainee who had briefly stayed at their base. What stuck in his mind was that the kid had been a die-hard Mi Li fan.

After being welcomed into the villa by the butler, he scurried over to Mi Li like a rat and grabbed his teammate’s wrist.

“I’m begging you, this is your big break! Whether you can seize it or not is up to you. Our team already has a precedent of sleeping with fans—get him to sponsor you and let me get rich too!”

Mi Li kicked Da Shu. “Shut up.”

A noise came from the stairs.

Lin Tao ran down excitedly and grabbed Ji Wei’s hand. “Long time no see, Brother Wei!”

“And Brother Solve…” Lin Tao glanced at the man behind Ji Wei, recalled the online gossip, and quietly let go of his hand.

“Don’t be scared.” Ji Wei turned, winked at Yin Sijue, then reached out and took Lin Tao’s hand again. “You’re a lifesaver for letting us train here.”

Yin Sijue nodded at Lin Tao. “Thank you.”

Understanding how valuable a pro player’s time was, Lin Tao acted quickly, having new computers delivered and fully assembled on the spot so they could start training right away.

“Holy crap.” Da Shu ran his hand over the brand-new setup. “This is miles better than the junk the organizers gave us. I feel like I just went from the slums to a millionaire’s home.”

“That’s not just a millionaire’s home. Hurry up and practice.” Xu Shaoqiu smacked him lightly on the head. “You’ve only got a few hours tonight—make them count.”

“You guys can come again tomorrow, right? You don’t have a match?” Lin Tao had several plates of sliced fruit set on the table. “I’ve got nothing to do during summer break anyway, so I’d love to watch my idol play up close.”

Xu Shaoqiu said, “Your idol? Oh, right—Mi Li. I’ll have him sign ten autographs for you later. Don’t say we never give back.”

Mi Li: “…Okay, brother.”

…

After playing five scrimmages against PCL teams in one night, AVG secured four victories.

Freed from the sluggish, unreliable computers, everyone felt more comfortable with their setups, and the strengths of the new roster became more apparent as they adjusted.

Previously, AVG had been a true gunfight-oriented team, with thrilling moments in almost every match. Close calls during landings were routine, and their aggressive, open-field shootouts were a delight for the audience.

But that’s the nature of aggressive teams — you have to accept both their brilliance and their flaws.

In past tournaments, AVG’s rankings fluctuated wildly: they could top the table one day and get wiped out the next.

UGC, another powerhouse team in the PCL, is a master of strategic play. While their raw firepower might not match other teams, they consistently reach the finals. When luck isn’t on their side, they create it. Many viewers accuse them of “buying” their way into the finals, but in reality, it’s their strategic precision that drives their success.

Of course, professional teams don’t always stick to one playstyle. With Ji Wei’s arrival, AVG gradually shifted, developing a dual-leadership system: Solve commands during landings and frontal skirmishes, while Unique handles rotations and circle predictions.

In short, Yin Sijue focuses on securing elimination points, while Ji Wei ensures ranking points.

This dual-leadership setup is almost unheard of among other teams, since differing leadership styles often lead to conflicts — leaving players unsure whom to follow and resulting in chaotic plays.

But Yin Sijue and Ji Wei don’t have that problem. Their natural chemistry makes them a perfect match for PUBG.

A day later, the third round-robin of the PGC group stage began as scheduled.

Since today’s match featured two championship favorites — SOP and AVG — the crowd was noticeably larger than on previous days. Most of the spectators were Korean, which was expected when playing on a rival’s home turf.

“Don’t look around during the game, don’t shout, and don’t glance at your teammates’ screens even if you’re eliminated,” Xu Shaoqiu reminded Ji Wei. “PGC rules are stricter than PCL’s, and the referees aren’t from our region, so be cautious.”

Da Shu, carrying his peripherals as he prepared to go on stage, looked confused. “Why so nervous? Unique’s never broken any rules.”

Xu Shaoqiu frowned. “I found out yesterday that the organizers’ computers for the Korean teams were running perfectly — no lag at all. And SOP didn’t actually get fined for their misconduct. I’m starting to doubt the fairness of this PGC.”

“At the very least, let’s not give them any excuse to cause trouble.”

In a sense, Xu Shaoqiu’s words turned out to be a blessing.

Ten minutes later, the four AVG players took their seats. After the referee finished checking their equipment, the first match officially began.

The opening map was the island — a route stretching from the mines to K Town. If nothing unexpected happened, AVG would choose their usual drop point, Port G.

Assuming nothing unexpected happened.

In the game, the low hum of the airplane buzzed in their ears. The bird’s-eye view of the island was breathtaking. The team marked Port G on the map, deciding to wait until the flight path was at its closest point before jumping.

Just as the AVG members pressed the jump button, Da Shu — the one responsible for gathering information — nearly screamed out loud.

In the air, several squads were dropping toward Port G along with them, lined up in a dense formation — at least three teams in total!

---

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Chapter 69 – Win No Matter What

---

That night, Ji Wei, flushed from the hot shower, lay on the bed fiddling with Yin Sijue’s phone.

When checking in, Xu Shaoqiu had given him an extra room card—one that belonged to his boyfriend—and had sternly instructed him to return it the next day and not keep any.

Ji Wei frowned as he took the card. So what if he didn’t have one? How could Yin Sijue possibly refuse him if he came knocking?

Of course, that being said, with the competition approaching, both of them knew their limits and wouldn’t do anything excessive.

Stolen tenderness is always the most cherished.

Bored while waiting for Yin Sijue to finish his shower, Ji Wei picked up the phone that had been left on the bedside table. After trying a few passwords, he easily unlocked it.

“Hehe…” Ji Wei rubbed his cheek against the pillow, his heart brimming with sweetness. He hadn’t expected Yin Sijue to be so old-fashioned—using their birthdays combined as the password.

After unlocking the phone, Ji Wei’s first move was to log into his secondary Weibo account, intending to catch up on all the food content he’d missed over the past two days.

Ever since Yin Sijue had publicly exposed his XP, their CP fans had gone wild, posting nothing but pictures and stories featuring “Wei the cat,” flooding the entire homepage with fluffy, furry creatures.

He scrolled through his “wife’s” profile, liking every post one by one. Then he spotted two of the most popular ones, each with over 5,000 shares:

[Absolutely Delicious] < When Sol got a custom-made cat-ear outfit | Women’s clothing | Small toys | Everyday sweet stories >

[Absolutely Delicious] < When Weiwei was reborn as Sol’s cat | Q-period kitten | Animal ears setting | High//H warning | No touching the ears or tail, etc. >< >

Ji Wei stared at the two titles for a long time, hesitating before finally biting his thumb and shakily clicking on the second one.

No one could resist those two words once they started reading.

He saved the image, flipped it over, and zoomed in. Biting his finger as he watched, he felt saliva soak his fingertips. He gritted his teeth, not daring to breathe.

The lurid content quickly consumed him—so much so that he didn’t even notice the sound of running water behind him stop.

When Yin Sijue emerged from the bathroom, towel in hand and drying his hair, he saw a mysterious lump wriggling under the blankets, occasionally letting out soft “whimpering” noises.

Puzzled, he approached. “Don’t get stuck under there—it’s hard to breathe—”

Bang!

The sudden sound startled Ji Wei, and he bolted upright, scrambling to cover himself with the quilt.

The phone slipped from his hand and rolled onto the floor.

It tumbled across the carpet several times before landing—by sheer bad luck—right at Yin Sijue’s feet.

The screen was facing up.

As the man bent down to pick up the phone from the floor, Ji Wei felt his soul drift away.

The screen was still on—no need to unlock it. The pictures in the album had all been pre-edited by Ji Wei, enlarged several times. Yin Sijue glanced at it and immediately understood what his boyfriend had been looking at.

He shifted his gaze to Ji Wei’s face. The boy’s skin was porcelain-white, and even his neck flushed red when he was shy. He was desperately trying to cover his lower body with the quilt.

“What are you afraid of?” Yin Sijue said softly, his voice slightly breathy—seductive, like a demon’s—as he sat down on the edge of the bed.

Ji Wei arched his hips back, trying to retreat without a word, but Yin Sijue caught his ankles and dragged him away from the bed.

“Shh, don’t be afraid. Let me see if you’re really sunny.”

…

The next morning, Xu Shaoqiu rushed to the door of Solve’s room and watched as Ji Wei carried his suitcase back to his own.

His eyes swept over Ji Wei like a scanner, confirming nothing was amiss before saying, “The captain and I will head to the venue to draw lots later. Afterward, there’ll be a live interview scheduled by the organizers. You’ll stay at the hotel and continue training.”

Ji Wei put his luggage away like a quail, not daring to look up at Xu Shaoqiu. Even though Yin Sijue hadn’t done anything last night—merely helping him “solve” the problem with his hands—Ji Wei still felt guilty under Xu Shaoqiu’s honest gaze.

Xu Shaoqiu didn’t notice Ji Wei’s awkwardness and turned to Yin Sijue. “I’ve given Lao Ma the key to the training room provided by the tournament. He’ll take you there. I’ll return your phone tonight. Let’s go, Sol.”

The two quickly got into the car and left the hotel. As Ji Wei sat down at his computer to begin training, he realized he hadn’t asked Xu Shaoqiu how he planned to resolve the Maoyu TV issue.

“He told you to prepare for the livestream,” Lao Ma said casually. “You guys practice first. He’ll call you when it starts.”

Da Shu frowned. “Livestream? Isn’t it just a drawing? What could he possibly draw?”

“We’ll have an interview after the draw,” Lao Ma explained. “It’s an annual special. We’ve never taken part before, and the whole world’s watching.”

Ji Wei nodded in understanding and looked at his teammates. “Let’s do three-person and four-person teams first?”

Da Shu checked the time. “Isn’t the livestream draw in twenty minutes? We’ll miss it if the match runs long. Let’s just do training camp first.”

When the livestream started, Lao Ma brought the tablet over for everyone to watch.

The group stage draw wasn’t particularly exciting. In a round-robin tournament, almost every team would face each other anyway. The coaches and captains were mostly going through the motions.

The host arranged the lots and presented them to the audience. AVG ended up in Group A8, meaning the group stage would last three days. AVG would only play on the first and third days, while Groups B and C faced off on the second.

“Is that even possible? Why do I feel like there are so many Southeast Asian teams in this group…” Da Shu said in disbelief as he scanned the list. “Didn’t they say there should be a balance of strength?”

Mi Li folded her arms, watching the livestream. The camera panned to Xu Shaoqiu’s face, making her choke with laughter.

“Actually, the Vietnamese team has won several championships,” she said. “They were lucky in their early years—constantly facing strong teams ahead of them, which helped them rack up ranking points. But things aren’t going so well now.”

Da Shu gloated, “Then it’d be nice to meet them in the group stage.”

Lao Ma reminded everyone, “The live interview’s about to start.”

The host held up the finalized group list in front of the camera for a moment before the screen flashed and switched directly to the pre-match interview room.

Yin Sijue had changed into a suit and, for once, put on some makeup. He looked like a celebrity in front of the camera.

“Holy crap… is the sun rising from the west?” Da Shu gasped in disbelief. “My brother never wears makeup for interviews!”

During the draw, the livestream had only a few comments congratulating the teams on their luck. But as soon as the interview began, the number of comments exploded—almost as quickly as Yin Sijue’s face appeared on screen.

[“If the title were covered, who could tell if this is a Korean drama or a game?”]

[“Thank God I had free time today—I got to watch the draw live!”]

[“Oh my god, Solve is so handsome.”]

[“Wait, was there an interview segment before? I don’t remember one. He’s never joined PCL before. Why suddenly look this handsome now? Is he trying to intimidate his opponents with his face?”]

[“He’s a good eater. Hey, Unique! He’s really good at eating!”]

As soon as the “Solve” show started, all the CP fans swarmed in. The comment section turned outrageously lewd, and Ji Wei could barely bring himself to keep watching.

The worst part was that all his teammates were sitting right next to him, forcing him to pretend he hadn’t seen anything. It was torture.

Da Shu noticed Ji Wei’s face flushing and whispered, “How about we turn off the comments? What do you think, Unique?”

“Let’s keep it on…” Ji Wei said through gritted teeth. “Some of the compliments are… pretty nice.”

The host, a Korean man with slicked-back hair, happened to be fluent in both Chinese and Korean, so no interpreter was needed. After a few opening remarks, the interview officially began.

Host: “This is probably Solve’s first pre-game interview at our PGC, right? Why did you decide to participate this year?”

Yin Sijue smiled faintly. “No particular reason. I just came because I had the time.”

The host hadn’t expected such a perfunctory response. After an awkward laugh, he quickly moved on to the next question.

“This year, AVG is entering Worlds with a brand-new lineup. What are your expectations?”

“I believe every team here wants to achieve the best possible result, and AVG is no exception.”

What a boring answer! What’s the point of watching this? The host smiled helplessly. Then, catching a suggestive look from the tournament organizers, he decided to steer the topic somewhere more interesting.

He smiled. “We did a bit of background research before the interview. I heard your team’s new player, Unique, has a rather special identity. Could you tell us more about him?”

Yin Sijue’s lips curved slightly. “What kind of special identity? Are you referring to his old gaming account… or something about me?”

Unexpectedly, the other party brought up the latest gossip on his own. The host’s eyes lit up. “Both! Can Solve tell us more?”

Yin Sijue lowered his eyelashes, as if in thought. After a moment, he smiled and looked directly into the camera.

“Unique is an excellent player. We used to be very compatible teammates. It’s a pity he missed the chance to go pro back then. But now he’s back with me—it’s my honor to fight alongside him again.”

This was the first time Yin Sijue had publicly acknowledged his past with Ji Wei. Viewers flooded in, and the already unstable livestream connection lagged under the sudden surge in traffic.

[“Help! Even though I already knew it was a childhood-sweetheart story, hearing him say it himself hits different!”]

[“Come back to me! What kind of sovereignty claim is this?”]

[“Bao Bao x Mao Mao forever—may they be happily together T_T”]

[“Who gets it? I’m already knee-deep in electronic music, but I can’t stop laughing!”]

Although the host couldn’t see the comments, he could tell from the viewer count that the broadcast’s popularity was skyrocketing. Encouraged, he pressed on.

“So, why didn’t Unique become a pro gamer back then?”

Yin Sijue shook his head, a faint shadow passing over his features. “That’s his private matter. I can’t disclose it. All I can say is—it wasn’t his original choice.”

The cryptic reply immediately ignited a heated discussion in the chat.

[“What do you mean? He did want to go pro back then?”]

[“?? Who ruined our young couple’s reunion?!”]

[“Let’s not talk about this anymore—it feels too heavy, like a dream being crushed.”]

[“How many years do pro players even have? They lost three years…”]

[“Solve seems kind of angry…”]

“Is that so…” The host noticed something off in his expression and quickly followed the script to change the topic.

“This year’s PGC is the first to be held in Korea. Do you have any travel plans you can share after the tournament?”

Yin Sijue tilted his head thoughtfully. “Not yet. We mostly get together for training.”

“Not necessarily with teammates!” the host said enthusiastically. “By the way, the organizers have thoughtfully arranged admission and accommodations for accompanying family members. If they’d like to explore, we’ll also provide a tour guide so they can experience the local customs and culture of Korea.”

Encouraged by the organizers, the host went on cheerfully, “With the families’ permission, we’ll also record a pre-match greeting video to be played after the trash talk segment. Isn’t that heartwarming?”

He gave Yin Sijue an encouraging look. “SOP and ROD from our home region have both registered their accompanying family members. I heard quite a few AVG members came this time too! Haha, don’t worry about the organizers’ expenses—”

“We don’t have any accompanying family members,” Yin Sijue interrupted calmly.

The host froze, his voice trembling slightly. “Huh?”

On screen, the composure Yin Sijue had shown at the beginning of the interview completely vanished, replaced by an air of awkwardness and quiet sadness.

He was silent for a long moment before finally saying, “Not all professional players have their families’ approval. Unique was living alone at fourteen—and that wasn’t something heartwarming for him. We have the encouragement of our teammates and the support of our fans. That’s enough.”

The host sat there stunned, realizing only too late that he’d made a serious mistake. He darted a glance at the nearby staff, but before he could recover the situation, the camera abruptly cut to a commercial.

The AVG members watching the livestream: “…”

Yin Sijue’s feigned embarrassment might have fooled the audience and the host, but it couldn’t fool his teammates—people who had lived with him for years.

Da Shu clicked his tongue twice, then turned to Ji Wei. “Is his acting always this good?”

Ji Wei was momentarily speechless and redirected the question to Lao Ma. “What’s he doing?”

Lao Ma lowered his head and sipped his tea. “You’ll know when you look at the comments.”

The on-site director, realizing the interview had gone off track, hurriedly interrupted the broadcast, cutting to some irrelevant game footage.

But Yin Sijue’s words had already struck a chord—especially among the PCL audience. It was the first time they’d seen Solve caught off guard by an interview question, and the reaction was explosive.

[“What’s that host even doing? What does SOP having family members have to do with us?”]

[“PCL has never had a tradition of recording family videos. Why ask such a stupid question?”]

[“Wait—Solve said Unique started living alone at fourteen. Wasn’t that three years ago?”]

[“Three years ago was when he missed AVG’s youth training. Those can’t be related, right? Oh my god, did he run away from home—or did something happen to his family?”]

[“Stop guessing, okay? Either possibility sounds awful. From now on, “family members” is an AV landmine. Don’t even bring it up.”]

[“+1 Don’t disrupt the players’ mindsets. Everyone, focus on the competition. From now on, if anyone brings up the topic of family, just block it.”]

Ji Wei stared blankly at the comments. Everyone was talking at once, but no one mentioned the players’ families again.

Seeing the direction the comments were taking, Lao Ma explained with satisfaction, “This is a strategy we worked out last night. We noticed that this year’s pre-tournament interview script is the same across the board. Solve will disclose your situation in advance during the interview, then play up your hardships just enough. That way, everyone feels reassured and stops prying into your and your parents’ matters.

“Even if Maoyu eventually tries to expose the truth, it’ll only be secondhand information, with no real basis for authenticity. The fans will step in to explain things on their own, and public opinion will lean toward us.”

He chuckled confidently, looked at Ji Wei, and continued, “With Worlds just around the corner, fans are still fairly tolerant of the players. Even if they want to criticize someone, they’ll wait until after the tournament.

“By then, their information will already be useless. Brother Qiu has explained everything to Aurora’s management. They’ll fast-track the process and acquire Maoyu no later than the day of the PGC Finals. By then, CEOs Zhou and Wang will be ready to withdraw.”

“Wow…” Da Shu couldn’t help but applaud. “So this is what business warfare looks like? We actually get to witness this kind of bloody battle!”

“?” Lao Ma gave him a look as if he were an idiot. “What kind of business war is this? We’re just getting rid of a bug. Focus on training and leave the rest to us.”

“Okay, okay, okay. It’s settled then.” Da Shu clapped his hands theatrically. “Let’s queue for a three-player match, Unique. Hey—why’s my computer freezing for no reason? Do you think…”

Ji Wei didn’t catch what Da Shu said next. He quickly blinked away the tears that had welled up in his eyes, clicked [Accept Invitation], and joined the team.

He took a deep breath, remembering how he’d imagined countless worst-case scenarios after learning about his parents’ situation from Ji Lin—but none of them had come true.

Thankfully, everything was resolved, and the outcome was smoother than he’d ever dared hope.

Now, he was back doing what he loved most—playing the game he knew so well, surrounded by teammates who had his back.

Ji Wei had only one thought: to win this match, no matter what, and return triumphant.

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