Chapter 27 – Can You Return Talk to Me?
At that moment, the beam of a flashlight swept across the doorway as the team doctor entered and helped Tan Mo to his feet.
Tan Mo stared blankly at the doctor with a look of childlike fear in his eyes.
Sang Ye held onto Tan Mo’s cold hand tightly, reluctantly letting go only when Tan Mo was about to leave.
Yu Haotian followed closely behind the doctor, and before leaving, he finally noticed Sang Ye still sitting in his seat.
His expression was complicated as he opened his mouth to speak: “What just happened with Talk… it probably scared you, but whatever you saw, don’t mention it to anyone, and don’t let it weigh on your mind. This… sigh, a team will come up soon to continue the match.”
In less than five minutes, the power throughout the entire base was restored.
The sudden brightness stung Sang Ye’s eyes. He rested his elbows on the table and shielded his eyes with his hands.
Ji Feng and Jin Cao walked in, frowning.
“We’re supposed to continue like this? We’ve lost a whole game’s worth of points. How are we supposed to compete? We were counting on Talk to pull us through, but now… who knows what’s going on, they just switched him out like that.”
“Exactly. The opponents are so strong, no matter who replaces Talk, it’s going to be rough for us—two of us and a rookie. There’s no point. We’re basically just going to be running along with the other teams at this point, since only the top three get any prize money.”
Ji Feng sat down, glancing at Sang Ye a few times before noticing something was off: “Hey, Song, you okay?”
Sang Ye sniffed, lowered his hands, and rubbed his palms together. His eyes were slightly red: “I’m fine.”
“The captain’s getting replaced, did you know?” Jin Cao, assuming Sang Ye hadn’t seen Yu Haotian yet, reminded him. “The first team is discussing it right now.”
Sang Ye was silent for a moment, then let out a faint hum of acknowledgment.
Ji Feng and Jin Cao sensed that Song was feeling down, but it didn’t take them long to figure out why.
This online tournament was a trial for Song, determining whether or not he would be accepted into the second team. Not only did they have the bad luck of a power outage, losing points for a game that never happened, but now the team leader was being swapped out. Whether or not they could even work together smoothly was a big question, and that was a lot for anyone to handle.
With Tan Mo leading before, Song had no worries. But if the rest of the team was going to be like Ji Feng and Jin Cao…
Feeling guilty, Ji Feng rubbed his nose. “Don’t feel pressured. I can see you’ve got real talent. No matter what happens, I’ll welcome you into the second team.”
Sang Ye, however, just kept staring at his own palms, saying nothing, as if he hadn’t heard a word.
Not long after, Miao Sen came up.
Miao Sen had been the captain of the second team. After Shine left, he was promoted to the first team to take Tan Mo’s place. So, naturally, the coach sent him to take over for this online match.
Miao Sen logged into Tan Mo’s machine and gave Sang Ye a reassuring smile. “Everyone understands it was an accident. The result doesn’t matter anymore; just do your best from here on.”
Sang Ye still didn’t respond.
Fifteen minutes later, the tournament organizers reconnected WLG to the channel, and the third game began.
Throughout the match, Sang Ye felt numb. When enemies came charging at him, he relied entirely on muscle memory to reload and fire. Though his voice never disappeared from the team chat, his mind was elsewhere, focused on the memory of Talk’s pale face.
He didn’t know why Talk ended up like that, but suddenly, many things started to make sense—the disappearance from the competitive scene after the qualifiers; the single appearance in the Spring Tournament, where his face looked nearly transparent under the stage lights; the strange appearance of a medicine bottle during a mid-match break; and the once-active Steam ID that now rarely blinked online.
Only now did Sang Ye realize that even someone like Talk could fall, could shatter completely.
The thought made his fingers start to tremble, and his chest tightened to the point where he could hardly breathe. His breathing grew erratic, amplified by the microphone, making the sound unusually loud in the team chat.
Miao Sen asked, “Song?”
Ji Feng said, “Hey… don’t get nervous.”
Sang Ye pressed his lips together, forcing down the heat that had risen in his throat. His eyes were locked on the swaying crosshair as his finger clicked the mouse, eliminating the last enemy in the building.
“I’m fine.”
The safe zone shrank again, and Sang Ye jumped into the vehicle to relocate with his team.
But this time, WLG didn’t manage to make it into the city.
Commentator A: “Oh no! Their position in the circle is terrible—they’re getting pounded by three different teams. And WLG is running low on resources; they’ve been avoiding fights early on, so they didn’t stock up on many items. If they had more grenades and smoke bombs, they could hold their position at the water tower.”
Commentator B: “Comparing this round to the one with Talk, there’s a big difference in style. This round is steady, right? But it’s too reliant on circle luck. If the circle works in their favor, they can play cautiously and succeed, but if they have to chase the zone, they’ll be at the mercy of other teams, and they won’t rack up many kills.”
Commentator A: “Let’s take a look. WLG has three kills so far, with two of them coming from Song. What can I say? Without Talk, Song’s performance feels a bit limited…”
Tan Mo, wrapped in a large towel draped over his team jersey, sat on the sofa in the medical room. When he saw the ID [WLG-Song] go dark, he lowered his gaze deeply.
The coach, watching the wall-mounted TV, said, “Miao Sen’s playing style is like he’s reassembled a second team. But there’s not much he can do—no matter how hard Song tries, without the right environment to deal damage, even he can’t carry. Miao Sen has to prioritize keeping the team alive.”
“We only got 3 points this round, and with the 22 points from the first round… let me think… Yeah, around ninth or tenth place,” Yu Haotian sighed, his tone now calm. “We can forget about making the top three today. And about being a substitute for the Summer Tournament… just thinking about it gives me a headache. I really want Song to be in, but did you hear what An Liu said? If Song doesn’t completely outplay him today, it’ll be hard to justify anything he does in the future.”
Tan Mo kept his eyes down, quietly drying his damp black hair with the towel, his movements slow and lacking energy.
…
In the second team’s practice room.
After a brief review of the round, everyone started observing the final circle of the current game.
Sang Ye, however, wasn’t watching. His hands were clasped tightly over his face, and he sat in silence, his mind tangled in confusion.
He was torn between his focus on the game and his concern for Talk’s condition.
‘Is he feeling better?’
‘How is he now?’
‘Stop thinking about it. You promised to give it your all. You can’t be distracted anymore.’
But they had already lost a round, and only earned 3 points in this one. Their current ranking was dismal.
There were only three rounds left. What should he do?
If things kept going like this, his trial would be a failure, and he’d break his promise to Talk, making him a liar.
He was panicking.
The anxiety was killing him!
Caught between despair and stress, Sang Ye soon felt the palms of his hands growing damp, and his lips started to tremble.
…
‘I can’t do it. I really can’t…’
‘Can you return Talk to me’
…
The fourth round was about to begin.
Miao Sen noticed Sang Ye still covering his face and not moving, so he asked, “You alright? It’s about to start.”
Sang Ye remained silent for a long moment. He took a deep breath, then slowly moved his hands away from his face, revealing his tear-streaked, red-eyed expression.
Staring at the flight path on the screen, he thought to himself,
This can’t go on.
Following Miao Sen’s lead would secure them a decent rank, but it wouldn’t get them anywhere near the top three.
Sang Ye adjusted his headset, his voice unexpectedly clear and cold as he spoke:
“From now on, listen to me.”
“!”
The other three turned their heads in shock, startled by the sudden command.
They saw the white-haired boy, his eyes still red at the corners, but his expression was calm and serious. He wasn’t joking.
Even the supervisor nearby was on alert, suspicious about what the three of them were planning.
Miao Sen frowned, clearly uncomfortable. “Song, you—”
“I won’t act recklessly,” Sang Ye replied, “I’ll guarantee it with Talk’s highest authority.”
Ji Feng and Jin Cao exchanged glances and nodded at Miao Sen.
Miao Sen still looked confused.
The flight path passed over P Port.
Sang Ye marked the airport on the map: “Ji Feng, stock up on grenades. Jin Cao, find a high spot and keep watch. Miao Sen, stick with me. Everyone play around me. Don’t fall behind, don’t make mistakes, and even if you get shot, don’t let me go down.”
Teammates: “………”
This wasn’t just being a team captain.
This was being a warlord!!
Commentator A: “WLG is actually heading to the airport to roll the point! Is Talk back…? No, wait, Song grabbed a shotgun and took out TES’s Jiajia, but his position is dangerous! There’s still someone in the next room waiting for him. If Song moves forward, he’s done for… Beautiful! Double kill! That quick turnaround shot was incredible!”
Commentator B: “I’ve noticed, Song needs to see blood at the start. He thrives in chaotic skirmishes. His pace this round is clearly much more comfortable than the last.”
Yu Haotian, watching from the medical room, frowned. “Three teams landed at the airport. The fighting is intense, yet Miao Sen actually dares to let them go there… What’s he thinking? There are so many strong teams at the airport. Even if they survive, half the team will be crippled. There’ll be no chance to continue. Wouldn’t it be better to drop at P City and develop there? There’s more space to move around, and they could hold out longer.”
Tan Mo watched for a moment before quietly saying, “He’s going for kill points.”
Yu Haotian paused, confused. “Why is he playing so aggressively?”
Tan Mo, looking exhausted, gave a faint smile. “Because he’s Song.”
“The hell did I say!” The coach suddenly sat upright, exclaiming, “This guy f*cking stole the command position!”
Yu Haotian was confused, “He’s still doing this? After everything… does he really think he can pull it off?”
Tan Mo lowered his eyes and frowned.
How anxious, how determined must Sang Ye be to snatch the command position like this?
If only he were here…
This time, it was his debt to Sang Ye.
…
Five minutes later.
WLG drove out of the airport, but only two of the four were left, making them a half-wrecked team. But they had managed to secure eight kills.
Commentator A: “WLG is playing with a ‘do-or-die’ mentality this round. Their position is decent, just inside the circle, but they’re still rotating upwards without stopping. They’re not even concerned about getting ambushed along the way… and there it is! XXY has spotted them, they’re outnumbered—this looks bad! Grass is throwing smoke… wait, what? Song just drove off and left him? Abandoned Grass to be a decoy!?”
Jin cao, surrounded by a team of three, died tragically. He whimpered, “BroTHER, this is as far as I can take you!”
The coach furrowed his brows so hard they were practically knotted. “What kind of rogue play is this…”
Sang Ye jumped out of the car, broke into a school building, went upstairs, and took down a player who had been holding that position. Now he was king of the hill.
He dropped his gun and stood inside, healing himself, seemingly with no intention of moving anymore.
“What the hell?” The coach was baffled. “He’s not checking the circle? Not rotating? Just staying there to camp?”
Tan Mo watched for a moment and then said just two words: “Gambler’s play.”
The coach looked at him, “What?”
In the game, Sang Ye wrapped another bandage around himself and glanced at the map.
They were in the fourth phase, and the safe zone had shrunk further, with the school still inside it.
In this game, everyone was constantly chasing the safe zone, which refreshed unpredictably. In the end, they were all just gamblers, betting on where the zone would land. If they guessed right, they’d call it “fate.”
Since most of his team had already fallen in the airport and wouldn’t make it far, any full squad could easily wipe them out. So, Sang Ye bet that the “fate zone” would be right under his feet.
Of course, the next zone could exclude him, forcing him to move and face other teams, likely leading to their elimination. In that case, they’d just have to chalk it up to bad luck.
This strategy was risky, but it was perfect for a lone wolf.
Oh, right—Talk had taught him that.
The coach realized Sang Ye truly had no intention of moving and fumed, “Let’s see how long you can hold out.”
…
The game reached the sixth phase. The safe zone shrank towards P City, and teams outside were scrambling to get in while those at the edges were busy picking off stragglers.
WLG’s lone wolf was near the edge but kept calm, staying put.
By the seventh phase, the safe zone shifted to Dragon Gate Inn, forcing most teams to move, triggering gunfights as they crossed paths.
WLG’s lone wolf remained tucked inside the school building, untouched.
In the final circle, the safe zone centered on the four school buildings.
The moment the circle was defined, the coach slapped his leg, “The kid actually guessed right!”
Though he cursed under his breath, his face betrayed a smug satisfaction.
Even the commentators were shocked. “With how intense the fighting’s been, I nearly forgot about WLG—Song’s right in the fate zone!”
Gunfire erupted below as the last three teams clashed in the center square, locked in an intense fight.
Sang Ye pulled out a sniper rifle and took position by the window, aiming patiently. When only two teams were left, he muttered:
“If I don’t win now, it’d just be rude.”
Bolt-action.
One shot—
Two shots—
A moment later, the screen flashed a message:
[Winner, Winner, Chicken Dinner!]
WLG earned 23 points this round, boosting their rank to fifth place.
The coach, too excited to hold back, burst out cursing, spitting “little brat” again and again.
Yu Haotian clicked his tongue, his tone brightening, “See? I told you, stay patient and there’s hope.”
Tan Mo ruffled his hair, tossing the towel aside, finally showing a trace of relief:
“It’s not about staying patient… it’s because there’s Song, there’s hope.”
Because he never gave up, never surrendered—that’s what hope is.