This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi! (ﾉ´ヮ`)ﾉ
Chapter 57 – Crying Again.
Tan Mo left.
Sang Ye covered his ears and sat there for a long while, feeling unbearably flustered.
He never would have imagined that Talk could be such a childish prankster—the cool, aloof persona of a “godly male lead” was barely holding up anymore!
Being called puppy wasn’t exactly pleasant, but somehow, when it came from Talk, it felt… different.
—There was a hint of grievance laced with playfulness, playfulness mixed with a trace of affection, and in the end, it all pointed to… intimacy.
Sang Ye’s heart pounded wildly. He ruffled his hair like crazy.
What the hell is happening?
Talk had changed!
Just then, the cleaning lady walked in, carrying a bucket to start tidying up the room.
Sang Ye shot up from his seat, face burning red, and walked out as if nothing had happened.
The cleaning lady watched the white-haired boy pass by, then glanced up at the central air conditioning.
Jeez, the kid must be burning up.
…
That afternoon, after daily training ended, the coach passed by the first team’s practice room and reminded them that the drop locations for the China-Korea friendly scrim had been decided.
For this match, each team could submit a primary and secondary drop location for reference, ensuring squads wouldn’t land on top of each other.
WLG’s primary choice remained P City—a spot they had practiced on all summer and were highly familiar with.
Their secondary location was a more remote loot area, allowing for flexibility depending on the flight path, though they didn’t intend to put too much focus on it.
At the intercontinental level, the eight teams from China that had qualified for the tournament were keen to avoid early fights with fellow domestic teams, so they had deliberately spread out their landing spots. As the P City overlords and reigning summer champions, WLG was confident that no one would challenge them for their primary drop.
“Let’s see if any Korean teams dare to contest our spot,” Xiao Pai said as he pulled up the team list on the computer, sounding quite self-assured. “They wouldn’t forget that WLG are the defending champions, right? We absolutely wrecked them last time.”
The coach smacked Xiao Pai on the head with a rolled-up document. “Where’d you pick up that cocky attitude?”
Xiao Pai shrank his neck and continued scrolling down the list. His hand suddenly froze.
“BTF?”
“What’s up?” Hu Fu leaned in.
Tan Mo and Sang Ye, sitting across from them, also turned their heads to look.
Xiao Pai wobbled the mouse over the team list and said, “They’re dropping in P City… What the hell! And they don’t even have a secondary drop spot? So they’re dead set on contesting P City? That’s bold as hell.”
Sang Ye suddenly recalled something and asked, “Wasn’t their main drop spot Georgopol before?”
Since BTF frequently ran into WLG in major tournaments, Sang Ye had learned a bit about them while following Tan Mo. Georgopol was a hotspot for aggressive fights, and BTF’s playstyle was just as dominant.
“Eh, maybe they changed up their strategy,” Xiao Pai said. “But whatever, who cares? If they want to go head-to-head in P City we won’t back down.”
Tan Mo lowered his lashes, casually picking at his fingernail, before looking up. “Switch our drop spot.”
“Exactly! Good idea!” Xiao Pai’s arrogance flared up as he rolled up his sleeves. “Let’s contact BTF and tell them to change their drop spot—it’s for their own good!”
The coach frowned slightly and turned to Tan Mo. “Why are you also—”
Tan Mo cut him off. “We’re switching our drop spot.”
“Right! We’ll— Wait, what?!” Xiao Pai snapped out of it, utterly shocked.
Sang Ye also looked at Tan Mo in confusion.
The coach had initially assumed Tan Mo was being cocky, and now that he was suddenly being overly cautious, the shift was even harder to digest. “It’s just a single afternoon scrim. Even if we run into each other, it’s not a big enough deal to switch drop spots over.”
Tan Mo rested his head against his hand and said, “I’ve already told you—BTF isn’t a friendly team. P City isn’t their main drop spot in official tournaments, yet they’ve locked it in for a training match. Isn’t their intent obvious?”
“They’re targeting us?” Xiao Pai asked.
“We’re their ultimate target,” Tan Mo said calmly, his lashes flickering as he added, “but before that… they’ll take out our teammates first.”
Xiao Pai: “Huh?”
Hu Fu seemed to realize something and turned his gaze to Sang Ye. “You mean… they’re coming after Song?”
Tan Mo straightened up and turned back to his computer. “I really don’t like BTF’s captain, Gal. Actually, I can say I hate him. Back in 2020, when I attended the Asia training camp with Fool, Gal was there too. Even though we were the same age, he debuted earlier than us, so he was technically our senior. But even then, his attitude toward newcomers was already atrocious. He shared a room with a Korean trainee, and by the time the 22-day camp ended, that trainee had submitted a request to leave his team.”
“Holy sh*t!” Xiao Pai exclaimed. “I totally believe that! Gal loves bullying rookies! Just like how he mocked me for being short, and even shoved his way ahead of me in the lunch line!”
“Mocking and cutting in line are just small acts of hostility. He’s capable of much worse,” Tan Mo said in a calm tone. “Fool suffered a minor bone bruise in his hand before the camp ended. It wasn’t serious—the doctor said as long as he controlled his training hours, it would heal on its own in time. But then Gal set his sights on him.
“Fool had a problem with premature firing—he couldn’t stabilize his recoil control. Gal picked up on that flaw and relentlessly exploited it, constantly targeting him in scrims and looking for ways to throw him off. The worst was during a match when he outdueled Fool and eliminated him. After the game, he walked past Fool’s seat and said to him—‘This ain’t a loser zone.’”
Sang Ye was stunned. “What…?”
Tan Mo clarified, “It means, ‘There’s no place for tr*sh here.’”
“Tch, that’s straight-up cruel,” Hu Fu shook his head. “That’s a complete and utter rejection. For any rookie with even a shred of pride, that kind of blow would be devastating.”
Tan Mo continued, “That’s why Fool spent the next week obsessively practicing his flick shots. But that kind of movement puts a huge strain on the wrist, let alone for someone who was already injured. By the final day of the camp, Fool had to withdraw from the match. When I went to check on him, he had his wrist wrapped in a stabilizer.
“From that moment on, he developed chronic wrist damage. He missed that year’s promotion tournament, and after that… the opportunities he lost just kept piling up.”
Hu Fu clapped his hands, connecting the dots. “And with his friend’s club going under, Fool gradually faded into obscurity. This Gal guy is seriously toxic.”
“Ugh! So infuriating!” Xiao Pai clenched his fists, then asked, “By the way, brother, did Gal ever target you back then?”
Sang Ye looked at Tan Mo. After hearing how Gal had ruined Fool’s career, he could only hope that Tan Mo had managed to avoid the guy and hadn’t suffered the same treatment.
“Not at the time,” Tan Mo replied. “I was flawless. He had no way to get to me.”
Everyone: “……”
Alright then. We’ll just sit here and watch you flex.
But then Tan Mo shifted the conversation. “But who do you think orchestrated that headless chicken incident?”
Sang Ye immediately understood. Last year, after Talk led his team to win the intercontinental championship, someone had sent a dead chicken to his hotel.
“No way—it was him?!” Xiao Pai slammed the table. “D*mn, that’s disgusting!”
“Gal has absolutely no sportsmanship,” Tan Mo said coolly. “To win, the first thing he thinks about is eliminating his opponents. That’s why he always targets rookies, especially the most promising ones. Because rookies, lacking experience, often struggle to form a clear self-assessment, making them easy to manipulate.”
His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, watching as the page loaded.
“After the summer tournament, Song’s name spread to the Korean media. An 18-year-old prodigy who could take down JunX, a rising star who, after Talk, had the potential to dominate PKL—how could someone as dangerous as that escape Gal’s radar? So if this training match isn’t about crushing Song’s confidence, then it’s about finding his weaknesses and preparing to exploit them in the official tournament.”
“Then what about Bai Mao?” Xiao Pai asked, worried. “I still remember how Lee Jun-hyun kept hunting people down like crazy. Now an entire team is coming after him? Are they going to try to camp him to death?”
The coach pondered for a moment before asking Tan Mo, “Is it possible you’re overthinking this?”
“Is Catch22 participating?” Tan Mo asked.
The coach thought back. “No, I think they had a scheduling conflict with another event.”
“Fool backed out,” Tan Mo said in an even tone. “He understands Gal’s malice better than anyone. He doesn’t want Aster to be exposed to his attacks.”
The coach frowned, still unconvinced. “It’s just a training match—why are you making it sound like some kind of death trap? I don’t think they would go through all this trouble just for Song.”
Just then, the page on Tan Mo’s screen finished loading.
Tan Mo glanced at the screen, clicked the mouse a few times, and said, “See for yourself.”
The others immediately gathered around.
On the screen was Twitter, showing Gal’s personal account. Just half an hour ago, he had posted an update in Korean. Tan Mo had already translated the page.
BTFGal:
[A training match in two days. WLG will be there. Is the so-called “Little Talk” really as invincible as the legend claims? We’ll see. We’ll also prove that former member JunX was eliminated because he couldn’t keep up. He wasn’t even good enough to represent the lowest level of BTF. 😎]
The coach, reading this, suddenly felt as if they had walked into a trap. His brows furrowed even tighter. “What exactly is Gal playing at? Does he really think he can find a weakness in Song that easily? I don’t believe he can do anything major in just one afternoon.”
“Since we know Gal is here to mess with our players’ mentality, I don’t care whether he succeeds or not—I’m not willing to take that gamble,” Tan Mo insisted, his tone leaving no room for negotiation. “We’re switching drop spots.”
The coach wasn’t planning to force his players into unnecessary risks either. With the tournament approaching, he didn’t want anything going wrong. “Alright, I’ll talk to the organizers.”
“No. We’re not switching.”
A sudden voice interrupted.
Sang Ye, still leaning against Tan Mo’s desk, had spoken.
Tan Mo licked the corner of his lips and looked at him. “Their drop-spot control is incredibly strong—stronger than any domestic team we’ve faced.”
Sang Ye could tell Tan Mo was putting it mildly. In other words, BTF couldn’t be judged by the standards of local training matches, and overconfidence would be dangerous.
Sang Ye tilted his head slightly, lost in thought. After a moment, he looked up at Tan Mo. “If he was really that strong, he would’ve beaten you in the intercontinental and world championships. But he didn’t. That means he’s not as terrifying as you all claim. If he wants to come, let him. I’m not afraid. I accept the challenge.”
Hu Fu let out a “Whoa!” and gave a thumbs-up.
Xiao Pai clapped his hands. “As expected from one of our team’s aces—holding up the banner for us!”
The coach’s tightly furrowed brows gradually relaxed. Just as he was feeling relieved by Sang Ye’s fearless attitude, he turned to Tan Mo and said:
“Let him try. If he really gets beaten, then let it be a wake-up call. We still have time to train before the official matches. It’s better to face setbacks now than to get caught off guard on stage. After all, you’ve all grown through challenges and hardships.”
Tan Mo frowned slightly and looked at the coach, his tone turning impatient. “How can a training match be the same as an official one? In an official match, they wouldn’t drop into P City at the start. Whether we even run into them depends on the zone shifts and how other teams play. In a training match, it doesn’t matter if things get chaotic—everyone lands in the same area, resources are equal, and opportunities are balanced. But they’re locking onto our drop spot on purpose. It’s obvious they want to make sure Song doesn’t walk out of P City…”
The coach was getting irritated by Tan Mo’s argument, especially with so many people watching. He was just about to scold him when a quiet voice spoke up first:
“Do you really not believe in me?”
Tan Mo abruptly shut his mouth and turned toward the voice.
The boy sat there quietly, his eyes lowered. He bit his lip slightly, his fair face full of disappointment.
It was rare to see Sang Ye like this. A sharp pang hit Tan Mo’s chest. He realized his tone had been too harsh and instinctively tried to explain. “I…”
But before he could say more, Sang Ye returned to his seat, put on his headphones, and clicked to join a new ranked match. “Whatever. You guys decide where we drop—I’ll go anywhere.”
Sensing the tension, Hu Fu quickly signaled Xiao Pai to leave with him.
The coach tapped his fingers against Tan Mo’s arm, coughed twice, and said, “Alright, enough. We’re dropping P City. Even if the Grim Reaper himself shows up, we’re still dropping P City. Discussion over.”
With that, everyone dispersed.
Tan Mo glanced at Sang Ye, but Sang Ye seemed lost in his own world, completely ignoring him.
Tan Mo let out a sigh and rubbed his temples.
He had always been mindful of Sang Ye’s feelings when he spoke, but just now, he had really lost his patience.
Sang Ye looked outwardly calm, but the way his fingers tapped on the keyboard was slightly more erratic than usual.
Tan Mo could tell—he was struggling inside.
He had thought that his outstanding performances in training matches and his achievements in the summer tournament would make Tan Mo see him in a new light—that, in the future, Tan Mo would fully trust him.
But judging by how tense Tan Mo had been just now, Sang Ye knew that wasn’t the case at all.
Tan Mo was actually worried he’d get eliminated as soon as he landed.
Sang Ye pressed his lips together, his keystrokes becoming even more scattered. His mind was a complete mess—frustration and disappointment tangled together.
Talk had said he wouldn’t treat him like a kid, but in reality, that was exactly what he was doing.
At the slightest breeze, he was afraid Sang Ye would break.
Was he really that weak?
Just then—
A white-and-green icon blinked in the lower right corner.
Sang Ye glanced at it several times before finally giving in and moving his mouse over to click it open.
T.: [Lee Jun-hyun relies on his agility to play smart, while Gal is a pure gunfight specialist.]
T.: [His right arm is extremely strong. No matter how late he trains, he always works out and lifts dumbbells. Because of this, he has greater mouse control than most, allowing him to execute high-difficulty sniping techniques.]
T.: [If you both had the same gun in a 1v1 arena, you might be evenly matched. But in a real match, timing, positioning, and teamwork matter. That’s where your skill levels differ. I really am afraid you’ll lose.]
Sang Ye furrowed his brows, his face flushing slightly from rising frustration and disappointment. He moved his mouse toward the top-right corner, intending to close the chat window.
For the first time, he felt genuinely angry at Talk—because his pride had been hurt.
T.: [But I know you’ll find your own way to overcome it. You’ve always been smart and resilient.]
With a soft “pfft,” his swelling emotions deflated like a punctured balloon, flying off in all directions.
Sang Ye’s expression eased a little. He placed his hands on the keyboard, just about to type a reply.
T.: [Sorry, I didn’t mean to distrust you.]
T.: [Don’t be mad, puppy.]
Sang Ye felt as if a soft, white feather had brushed against his heart—ticklish, making it hard to suppress the smile tugging at his lips.
In the end, he still closed the chat window.
Pulling off one side of his headset, he leaned slightly toward Tan Mo’s direction and muttered under his breath, “I’m not mad.”
Tan Mo looked at Sang Ye, scanning his face before asking, “Lying makes you a puppy?”
“I’m not lying!” Sang Ye stiffened his neck stubbornly. “You’re the puppy!”
Tan Mo reached out, pinched Sang Ye’s cheek, and gave it a playful shake, his teeth lightly clenched. “Puppy, your face is all red from being mad.”
Sang Ye quickly cupped his face and backed away, his eyes tinged with a faint red—but this time, it was from embarrassment.
Xiao Pai, expressionless, rubbed his arms as goosebumps spread all over.
He didn’t get it.
A dog was a dog.
Why did it have to be a puppy?
Whenever his brother scolded him, it was just, “Dog!”
Xiao Pai couldn’t understand—why did Bai Mao somehow make it sound so much more affectionate and cute?
…
Although Sang Ye wasn’t intimidated by Gal’s hostility, he still made an effort to stay sharp during the next two days of practice matches.
On Friday afternoon, the China-Korea friendship scrimmage officially began. A total of five matches were scheduled, lasting around three hours.
The room wasn’t crowded—there were fewer teams than usual training sessions—so each match would progress quickly, and the entire session might not even last the full three hours.
Sang Ye deliberately checked the BTF team list. Leading the lineup was the ID BTF-Gal.
When it was finally time to play, he realized there was nothing to be nervous about. After all, it was just a practice match. Wins and losses come and go; he just needed to maintain the same mindset as in training.
By now, Sang Ye had already participated in nearly a hundred matches, both big and small. Compared to when he first joined the team, he had become much more composed.
However, his calm mindset remained intact only until the first match began—then, a crack finally appeared.
With a favorable flight path, WLG marked P City on the map.
As they parachuted down, sure enough, another team followed.
Xiao Pai rubbed his hands together excitedly. “BTF really came.”
Tan Mo reminded, “Stay close together.”
Just as Sang Ye was about to release his parachute, an opponent nearby suddenly accelerated into a steep dive, landing on the same rooftop as him with a difference of less than a fraction of a second.
However, the opponent had the better position and picked up a pistol immediately upon landing.
Sang Ye was unarmed, but his reflexes were quick—without hesitation, he turned and jumped off the building, intending to regroup with his teammates.
But before he even reached the ground, green splashes burst around him, his health bar instantly dipped into the red, and he collapsed.
The next second—
A pair of military boots landed heavily in front of him.
He glanced at the notification.
[BTF-Gal … has knocked you down.]
What a coincidence—they had run into each other.
A wave of heat rushed to Sang Ye’s face, the kind that only comes when things go completely out of control.
Gal had chased him mid-air while they were both jumping off the building and shot him down. However, instead of finishing him off immediately after landing, Gal turned and entered a nearby house to loot for gear. He didn’t go far, though—there was no way for anyone to revive Sang Ye in this position.
After searching the house, Gal eventually stepped outside and eliminated Sang Ye for good.
Xiao Pai, worried that Sang Ye might feel pressured, quickly reassured him, “It’s fine, it’s fine! Not finding a gun at the start is completely normal—it’s just luck.”
Sang Ye responded with a simple “Mm.” He didn’t say anything else and quietly spectated the match.
In the second round, Sang Ye landed at the same spot again, this time securing an entire building for himself.
Meanwhile, Xiao Pai got cornered by BTF in a two-story house next door. Since Sang Ye was the closest teammate, he rushed over to help.
Xiao Pai warned, “Watch out, someone’s on the first floor! First floor—both of them are there.”
Sang Ye carefully advanced, but as he passed by a door, bullets suddenly fired through a damaged section, hitting him.
It was too late to dodge. His health bar plummeted, and he collapsed.
A notification popped up—Gal had shot him again.
Sang Ye could tell from the sound where the shot came from—behind the door, near the staircase in the next room. That was a common angle for holding a position. However, to land a shot so precisely through a small hole in the door required an incredibly precise angle and skillful aim.
Xiao Pai shouted, “Brother! Come save us!”
But Sang Ye wasn’t revived. Another BTF player finished him off.
At this point, Sang Ye finally realized just how formidable Gal truly was.
Contrary to the arrogant, brash image people often associated with Gal, he was, in reality, a calculated hunter on the battlefield. Both his marksmanship and strategic thinking were terrifyingly meticulous.
Sang Ye stared at the grayed-out screen, loosened his grip on the mouse, and discreetly wiped the sweat from his palm onto his sleeve.
Tan Mo’s long fingers moved swiftly across the keyboard, his expression calm as he said, “Stick with me next round.”
“Oh, okay.”
Sang Ye responded in a low voice.
Third Round
Sang Ye and Tan Mo flanked a weakened BTF squad from both sides of the outer wall.
As Sang Ye repositioned to avoid a grenade thrown from inside the building, he turned—only to find a gun barrel poking out from a window, aimed straight at him.
For a brief moment, before raising his weapon to counterattack, one thought flashed through his mind: ‘Could this be Gal?’
Gunfire erupted from both sides.
Sang Ye’s game screen faded to gray, his perspective shifting to the sky.
He took a deep breath, abruptly letting go of the mouse, then bit his fingernail in frustration.
Close-quarters combat—his speed and reaction time in face-to-face fights—had always been his greatest pride.
Then came the fourth round.
…
Four entire rounds.
Sang Ye never made it out of P City.
Final Round
On the plane, Xiao pai checked the time and mumbled, “Fatty, what are we eating later? Let’s not go to the cafeteria, it’s Friday.”
Hu fu shrugged indifferently, “I’m good with anything.”
Xiao pai turned to the other two. “What about you guys?”
Sang Ye said, “Let’s not drop P City this time.”
A brief silence filled the voice channel.
The plane continued along its flight path.
Xiao Pai let out an awkward “Uh…” before stammering, “I-It’s fine, Bai Mao, it’s the last round anyway.”
“Let’s not drop P City.”
Sang Ye licked his lower lip, his eyes fixed on the screen. Something shimmered faintly in his gaze as he parted his lips slightly and said, “Let’s go somewhere else.”
Before the match started, Sang Ye had considered the possibility of being targeted by Gal—just like Li Junxian had been.
But in reality, that wasn’t the case.
They simply crossed paths. Shots were fired. And then, over and over again, Gal took him down with ease.
Throughout the entire process, Sang Ye never felt any hostility.
What he felt was an increasing emptiness inside him—the slow crumbling of his once-unshakable confidence.
The plane had already passed P City.
Tan Mo placed a marker on the map and said, “We’ll play off-drop.”
The two-and-a-half-hour training session came to an end.
Xiao Pai suggested they all head out for a meal together.
Sang Ye tossed his mouse aside, stretched his arms, ruffled his hair, then turned around and said, “You guys go ahead. I didn’t sleep well last night, so I’ll rest here for a bit. Just bring me back something.”
Xiao Pai observed Sang Ye’s calm demeanor and felt a wave of relief wash over him.
He had been genuinely worried that the kid would shut down after the losses.
Luckily, this guy’s mental resilience was on another level.
After Sang Ye told them what he wanted to eat, the three of them left together.
As Tan Mo passed by, he reached out and ruffled Sang Ye’s hair.
After leaving the base, Xiao Pai and Hu Fu walked with their heads down, browsing restaurant reviews on Dazhong Dianping. Suddenly, Tan Mo stopped in his tracks and said to them, “You guys go ahead. I need to go back and grab something.”
“Alright, bro, just don’t take too long,” Xiao Pai replied.
Tan Mo retraced his steps. As he approached the entrance of the practice room, he slowed down.
From inside, he could hear the faint clicks of a mouse and keyboard.
Standing by the doorway, he peeked inside.
The room was dark—no lights were on.
Under the warm glow of the setting sun, the boy who had said he was going to nap was instead sitting upright at his computer, locked in another game.
Then, out of nowhere, a soft sob escaped him.
From behind, Tan Mo watched as a trail of glistening tears rolled down the boy’s flushed cheeks.