This chapter is brought to you by Fatima, thanks for the ko-fi! (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧
Chapter 65 – The Last Chicken.
With a loud bang echoing through the stairwell, a push-pull emergency exit door was suddenly flung open from the inside. A white-haired boy, his face as red as a ripe strawberry, bolted forward without looking back, sprinting toward the stage.
The door rebounded slightly before slowing down due to the buffer mechanism. Through the gradually narrowing gap between the door and its frame, a man could be seen sitting on the stairs, his face tinged with a faint flush. He stared blankly at the wall ahead, looking as if he had lost half his soul.
On stage, the WLG players’ area was in utter chaos.
Both of their star players had disappeared, and neither could be reached. Worse still, there were no other substitutes available.
A staff member kept urging, “Are you continuing the match? There’s only one minute left until it starts—please confirm immediately.”
“Just a little longer! Please, just give us a little more time!” Yu Haotian clutched his phone in desperation, practically on the verge of a breakdown. He was even considering the absurd idea of having the coach step in.
The remaining three players could sense something was seriously wrong. They were restless in their seats, unsure if the final day of the Intercontinental Championship could even proceed.
At this critical moment, a slender figure dashed up the stage in hurried strides, breathless.
“Sorry, I’m late.”
“You absolute lifesaver!!!” Yu Haotian nearly burst into tears.
Sang Ye quickly adjusted the lanyard hooked around the back of his collar while presenting his player ID for staff verification. Once cleared, he swiftly pulled out his chair and sat down.
Normally, players needed at least thirty minutes to adjust their settings. However, since Sang Ye had been absent during the break, he had no time to tweak anything. With only a minute left, his only option was to adapt to Tan Mo’s settings on the fly.
The staff cleared the stage.
Although the other three teammates had countless questions, the urgency of the situation left no room for discussion.
From the side, Xiao Pai pointed to his own eye.
Sang Ye instantly understood.
And so, in the very next second, as the broadcast cut to WLG’s newly arrived substitute, the sports center’s massive screen displayed a striking image—
A flushed-faced young man, his fingers hooked around the cotton string of his eyepatch, tilting his head slightly to the left. As the string snapped, it grazed through his fluffy, milk-white hair. The eyepatch slipped past his slender, pale fingers and was flung out of the frame, revealing a pair of deep, gleaming black eyes.
Beneath his left eyelid, a small, faintly red mark stood out—like a perfectly placed cinnabar mole.
The audience erupted into deafening screams.
The online viewers watching the livestream were just as excited.
[“Ahhhhhhh Song is insanely handsome!!!”]
[“Song is absolutely stunning!!!”]
[“He is literally the epitome of youthful beauty in my heart TAT!”]
[“How do I get my own Song?!”]
Sang Ye had likely sprinted over too quickly, because the moment he put on his headset, everyone could hear his exaggerated, heavy breathing.
“Bai Mao” Xiao Pai sounded concerned. “Calm yourself down before you pass out from hyperventilation.”
“……”
For a split second, the breathing sounds ceased entirely.
—Sang Ye deliberately held his breath, grabbed a nearby bottle of water, twisted it open, and chugged it down in huge gulps.
The gurgling noise was as if he had just returned from a long trek across a scorching desert, desperately thirsty.
Sang Ye set the bottle down, still swallowing the water left in his mouth, his eyes locked dead on his monitor.
During the halftime break in the previous match, the coach had already informed the team that Sang Ye would be taking over Tan Mo’s role as the in-game leader.
Hu Fu reminded him, “Song, you know you are the commander, right”
But Sang Ye didn’t respond. He continued staring intensely at the screen.
The others finally sensed something was off and turned their gazes toward him.
“Song?” Hu Fu called again.
Suddenly, Sang Ye collapsed face-down onto the table, his hands splaying open, fingers stretching taut—then abruptly clenching into fists.
And in the very next second, he unleashed an ear-shattering scream with unprecedented lung power:
“AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH—I’M DONE FOR!!!”
I KISSED TALK!!!
WHAT THE HELL WAS I DOING?!
I HAVE NO FACE LEFT TO SHOW, AHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!
“……”
His teammates scrambled to pull their headsets slightly away, barely saving their eardrums from destruction.
And it wasn’t just them—the staff members behind them and even several players from nearby teams all turned to stare in stunned horror and confusion.
Hu Fu and Xiao Pai rubbed their ears, then exchanged glances of silent sympathy toward Sang Ye.
They could understand the stress of being suddenly forced into the role of shot-caller.
—But for someone to break down this badly, to the point of seemingly losing the will to live… that was a rare sight indeed.
…
Yu Haotian returned to the backstage lounge, utterly drained, and collapsed onto the sofa. “None of them ever let me rest easy… We were literally one minute away from forfeiting.”
The coach, watching the LCD screen on the wall, frowned deeply. “This is Song’s first time as the in-game leader, and it’s happening in such a major tournament… I don’t know if he can handle it. I do have other options—I could let Hough step in instead. No matter how he performs, he’s still more experienced in high-stakes matches than Song, who’s still a rookie in these kinds of events. But…” He hesitated.
Yu Haotian saw right through his hesitation and said, “Hu Fu and Xiao Pai have experience, yeah. But they’ve been playing under Talk for so long that they’re used to just focusing on their own roles. Song is different. When he duo-queued with Talk, Talk intentionally pushed him toward command position. And Song—he’s a quick learner. He picked it up well. So… you’re basically betting everything on him, huh?”
The coach glanced at the overall standings.
Because of WLG’s complete collapse in the last match, they had plummeted from second place to fourth.
The current top three were NSN, Catch22, and BTF—each of them formidable powerhouses that would be nearly impossible for Sang Ye to challenge, let alone the teams chasing closely behind.
After a brief silence, the coach admitted, “I won’t lie. This decision is risky, and it could very well turn out to be a disastrous handover. To put it bluntly, the moment Talk stepped offstage, our chances at Worlds basically disappeared. Song might not be able to fully take on the role of commander, but… there’s something he has that I need right now.”
Yu Haotian asked, “What is it?”
The coach replied, “Team spirit.”
Yu Haotian’s expression shifted in understanding.
“Team spirit”—it was the same term the coach had used the first time he saw Sang Ye four-stack with WLG back when he was still a streamer.
The coach continued, “Why do you think E Lan was still banging tables and fighting with Miao Sen in the secondary team two days before the tournament started, but suddenly fell in line the moment the main event began?”
Yu Haotian thought about it for a moment, then looked incredulous. “Don’t tell me… it’s because of Song?”
“No.”
“………”
“E Lan only submits to Talk within the entire WLG,” the coach explained. “Talk’s raw skill is the only thing that can truly shut him up. When Talk is the commander, E Lan has no choice but to follow orders.”
“That’s true…” Yu Haotian nodded. “Forget WLG—no one in the entire PCL dares to challenge Talk.”
The coach continued, “But now, there’s someone else E Lan acknowledges.”
“Who?” Yu Haotian asked.
“Song.”
Yu Haotian raised an eyebrow. “You sure know how to deliver a punchline.”
“I heard it from a reliable source in the industry— An Liu tried to set up a move for E Lan to join NSN before he left,” the coach said with a cold chuckle. “He thought he was being sneaky, but there’s no such thing as a perfect secret in this world.”
Yu Haotian took two full seconds to process this before jumping up in rage. “What the f**?! An Liu is dead meat! He dared to snatch my player from under my nose? I swear, when I get back, I’m gonna wreck that little traitor!”
“That happened last week,” the coach said calmly. “I only found out because I confronted E Lan about it. But before I even heard a word, Song had already witnessed An Liu trying to recruit him. And instead of exposing it, Song stayed quiet and even went out of his way to recommend E Lan as a substitute.”
The coach’s gaze flickered. “You might not know this, but I first met E Lan in a shady internet café. He was fixing PCs for the owner and taking boosting gigs. He got scammed out of his pay and ended up being detained for two days because he was underage. So he has almost no trust in others. He never expects anyone to trust him, either. The idea that someone he doesn’t even respect could lead him well? He wouldn’t buy it. He only believes in carving out his own path.”
Yu Haotian let out a sigh and sat back down. “Environment shapes character… Poor kid.”
The coach shifted the conversation. “But now, Song has earned his trust. He won’t give Song a hard time. If we put Xiao Pai or Hu Fu in charge instead, it’d be a different story. For the sake of the team’s cohesion, I have to let Song take Talk’s place.”
Yu Haotian smirked. “D*mn, you really think ten steps ahead, don’t you?”
On the TV screen, the music had already started playing.
The second match was about to begin.
The coach glanced at the time and frowned. “Where’s Talk? Why isn’t he back yet?”
“Crap!” Yu Haotian smacked his thigh, his face full of panic. “I was in such a rush earlier that I completely forgot! He must still be feeling awful… Could something have happened to him?”
Just as the words left his mouth, the door swung open.
Talk scanned the room, his eyelashes lowering as he slipped in silently, like a shadow through the half-open door.
Yu Haotian stood up. “We were just talking about you. Feeling any better?”
Talk kept his eyes down. “A little.”
“Why’s your face so red?” Yu Haotian reached out to check his forehead. “You’re not running a fever, are you?”
Talk blocked his hand. “I’m fine.”
Yu Haotian noticed that Talk’s fingers were still ice-cold. He frowned slightly, then turned to his bag and pulled out a blanket.
For the next four matches, Talk wouldn’t be able to play anymore.
Since managing sixteen teams was already difficult, the intercontinental tournament had strict substitution rules. After using one emergency substitution, no further player swaps were allowed during this stage.
The coach rubbed his chin, secretly observing Talk, finding his silence unusually excessive.
After a moment of thought, he waved his hand dismissively. “Ah Mo, don’t dwell on the mistakes from the last match, and don’t beat yourself up over it. Getting the team this far is already a huge achievement. We all understand that.”
Talk sat down at the farthest end of the sofa, hunched over slightly. He covered his face with both hands, rubbing his temples before freezing in place.
Three seconds might have passed.
Then, in a deep, magnetic voice, he calmly said, “I’m done for.”
“………”
Yu Haotian and the coach were utterly stunned. They both shook their heads.
No way, no way.
Sure, they knew he felt guilty, but there was no need to be this devastated.
And at that moment—
The commentator’s voice came through the television:
“This round features a flight path from the fishing village to Y City. Every key location is reachable, so the distribution is quite balanced.”
The coach’s attention was immediately drawn in. He clenched his fists and frowned. “D*mn, I forgot to mention this during the halftime break. BTF has been playing extremely aggressively today. They’ve switched drop spots and are planning to take us out early. Based on this flight path, they’ll likely jump to P City again.”
Sure enough, all four members of BTF jumped early, gliding straight toward P City.
Yu Haotian’s heart leaped to his throat. “This is bad, this is bad, this is really bad! With Talk gone, E Lan is the only one on our team who has a chance of going head-to-head against Gal, but the odds are still slim. And now that Song is in the lineup, with how ruthless Gal is, he’ll definitely pull the same dirty tricks he did during scrims—”
Before he could finish rambling, the plane smoothly passed over P City.
Yet, aside from BTF, no other teams jumped.
Yu Haotian: “……”
On BTF’s side, the moment Gal saw Song step onto the stage via the big screen before the match, his fighting spirit ignited like an inferno.
Still gliding in mid-air, he cracked his wrist and sneered through gritted teeth. “You’ll see what happens when you underestimate me. And those annoying parking-lot catchphrases of yours… Where’s WLG dropping?”
Xiao A spun his camera around twice in a full circle before answering nervously, “Uh… Brother… No one else jumped to P City.”
“……”
Gal found himself alone in P City, but it felt as if he had just been doused with a bucket of ice water.
It wasn’t until the plane neared the Prison area that the four purple icons representing WLG finally sprang into action.
Talk, still wrapped in a blanket, leaned back against the sofa, his face still slightly flushed. “Playing edge-of-circle loot strategy.”
The coach, initially worried, relaxed slightly. “That kid is still playing aggressively.” He sighed in relief. “At least he’s smart about it.”
At the tournament venue—
Commentator A: “With WLG’s roster changes, two rookies are subbing in at once. Without Talk to anchor the team, they clearly recognize that contesting BTF right now isn’t in their favor, so they’ve chosen to land in a wild loot zone instead.”
Online haters instantly jumped at the chance to mock them:
[“Already chickening out? Isn’t he supposed to be the ‘Mini Talk’? Go fight the Koreans!”]
[“He won’t. Because going head-to-head with BTF means getting wiped on landing, hhhhhh!”]
Inside WLG’s player area—
“If you can’t win, retreat. No shame in that.”
The wild energy from pre-match had vanished—Sang Ye was now fully locked into the game. As soon as he landed, he swiftly began looting the sparse area.
“Not making it to Worlds—that’s what’s shameful… E Lan, head to the back houses and keep an eye on the team near the prison.”
Xiao Pai’s heart skipped a beat.
D*mn.
He had completely forgotten.
He should’ve found a chance to warn Sang Ye before the match—E Lan was not someone you could just order around.
On the surface, E Lan seemed to cooperate well with the team. But in reality, whenever Hu Fu or Xiao Pai asked him to hold an angle or cover a flank, he almost never responded—unless Talk was the one giving the order.
Some things are just easier done yourself.
This is bad. This is really bad.
With Talk absent and Sang Ye unable to control E Lan, their team’s lifespan was about to be cut short by another ten years.
As Xiao Pai gathered intel near the roadside, he felt increasingly conflicted and took the chance to glance at the minimap.
And then he saw it—E Lan, who had initially been heading for the bigger building, suddenly made a full 180-degree turn and ran straight toward the small houses in the back.
Xiao Pai: “…………”
E Lan? Listening to orders?
That’s impossible.
This doesn’t make any sense.
Before long, the first circle appeared, shifting north. WLG chose to stay put, lying in wait. Their position was incredibly resource-poor, but their one advantage was that teams were passing through from the south. Holding their compound, they managed to take some shots at passing enemies, scavenging whatever loot was left behind.
Since the stronger teams had all gathered near the center of the map and had the advantage of favorable circle shifts, WLG remained relatively unchallenged up until Phase Five, dominating the outer areas without resistance.
By Phase Six, eight teams were still in play, but the circle did not favor the teams positioned in the east—it shifted sharply to the west.
No matter which route WLG took, it would be difficult to avoid the teams gatekeeping the edge of the zone and find a safe entry point.
“The three of us will engage NSN.” Sang Ye distributed supplies to his teammates inside the building. “E Lan, grab more grenades, take the car, and find a spot in the wheat field. Don’t get shot down.”
Before the blue zone closed in, WLG pushed into NSN’s territory, resulting in a three-for-two trade.
Commentator: “Managing to secure two kills in such a high-pressure situation is no small feat! This is a huge blow to NSN. Meanwhile, with his teammates covering him, E Lan—the last remaining player for WLG—has successfully made it into the zone. But his position isn’t safe… The team from Feitian Tower has spotted him and is moving in. Whoa! Switching to E Lan’s perspective now—he’s absolutely stacked with grenades!”
WLG’s three eliminated teammates continued spectating E Lan.
“You’ve got footsteps on your right,” Sang Ye warned.
E Lan pulled the pin on a grenade. There was a small ridge separating him from the enemy team, preventing them from seeing each other’s positions. If they came face-to-face, E Lan would almost certainly die. His only option was to suppress their approach with grenades—precisely why Sang Ye had funneled most of the team’s throwables to him earlier.
E Lan tossed his first grenade. No kill feed notification appeared, meaning he missed. Worse, the enemy responded with a grenade of their own.
Dodging nimbly within the shallow pit, E Lan continued throwing grenades while evading incoming explosives.
But in a one-versus-three situation, simply surviving without getting blown up was already a challenge—eliminating enemies with grenades was an even taller order.
When the fifth grenade exploded, two kill notifications suddenly popped up.
Commentator A: “Oh! Beautiful! A double knock with one grenade! Can he follow up?”
Elan immediately threw another grenade at the exact same angle, finishing off the two downed enemies.
Commentator B: “That’s two points on the board!”
But time was running out for E Lan. The loud explosions had already drawn in other teams like a pack of hungry wolves. Moments later, E Lan was eliminated by an approaching squad.
WLG was stopped at the edge of the final circle, securing fifth place.
Commentator A (chuckling): “WLG was originally heading for an eighth-place finish, but thanks to their teammates breaking through enemy positions and their lone survivor making it into the zone, they clawed their way up to fifth. That’s seriously impressive! And E Lan—what a fighter! He really did everything he could to hold off the opposing teams.”
Commentator B: “Absolutely. The whole team played with resilience, sticking to their usual playstyle—if there’s a kill to take, they take it. Even though they didn’t make the final circle, their overall score for this match still places them in the upper-mid rankings.”
End of Match 2
Since NSN suffered heavy losses from WLG and couldn’t hold their ground against the full-strength Catch22, they failed to secure the win and dropped in rankings. Meanwhile, Catch22 climbed to first place.
As for WLG, they remained in fourth place.
Mid-Game Break (5 Minutes)
As soon as the break started, the previously energetic Sang Ye suddenly collapsed onto the desk as if his power had been cut. His ears, peeking out from beneath his hair, were completely red.
Xiao Pai: “…Bai Mao, is the pressure getting to you?”
Sang Ye (muffled): “Let me be.”
Xiao Pai: “…”
The moment Sang Ye’s brain had a second to rest, intrusive thoughts flooded in. The more he told himself don’t think about it, the clearer the memories became.
Talk’s lips were really soft…
—AHHHH! What the hell are you thinking?!
…His tongue, too. It seemed really… nimble…
—STOP! JUST STOP!
But why did he start touching my chest while kissing me…?
—Wuwuwuwu… Please, I beg you, don’t think about it. He was just trying to push you away but didn’t want to make it awkward, so he hesitated.
As the game’s opening music played again, Sang Ye shot upright and snatched up his headset, his face burning red.
He couldn’t take it anymore—he just needed the game to start. There was no way he was going to let his brain sit idle.
Since WLG had voluntarily retreated to a looting area, and BTF was a team with championship ambitions, Gal wasn’t about to chase Sang Ye all the way to the outskirts of the map. Instead, they remained in the loot-rich P City.
Perhaps due to a surge of adrenaline, Sang Ye played exceptionally smoothly this match. He moved with the shrinking zone, inching his way forward from the edge. Along the way, all his teammates were eliminated—but he alone made it to the final circle.
As the battlefield descended into chaos, Commentator A struggled to keep up with the fast-paced action:
“Catch22’s key to advancing now is whether they can withstand NSN’s suppressing fire. XXY is still looking for an opportunity—so who exactly are they going to fight? Song has secured the tower and the car barricade, and Catch22 is drawing attention away from him.”
Commentator B: “Technically, XXY could have taken out WLG’s lone survivor first. Given their position, it was inevitable that they’d clash eventually. But right now, they seem more wary of the other two full-squad teams… Oh! Aster lands a headshot with his Kar98k and takes out Kay, NSN’s strongest cover! NSN is as good as done!—Wait!? Song fires! He catches Aster off guard from behind! XXY seizes the moment and engages Catch22! Song immediately flicks his aim and sprays down Fangfang! Who would’ve thought? They completely underestimated the danger of keeping him alive!”
Commentator A (shouting): “Song is still firing! He’s still in it! One, two… a quad-kill! Song, the lone survivor, clutches the chicken dinner!”
The arena erupted with deafening cheers.
The final quad-kill was breathtaking—an absolute spectacle.
The commentators were still analyzing the play with heated enthusiasm: “XXY should have eliminated Song earlier! Leaving him alive was too risky—if they had, they would have secured the win…”
In the Team Lounge
Watching WLG close the gap with BTF, trailing by just three points, the coach grinned from ear to ear:
“That kid—why is he playing so well today?”
The broadcast director cut to Sang Ye’s post-match reaction. His face was flushed red, his eyes darting around as he struggled to catch his breath.
Tan Mo instinctively glanced at the boy’s rosy lips—then quickly looked away.
Not appropriate. Don’t stare.
But the next time he turned his gaze back to the screen, the camera had already switched.
A hint of disappointment flashed across Tan Mo’s expression.
He checked the time—Match 3 had ended, and there was a 20-minute intermission before the team would return for the coach’s review.
Tan Mo tossed aside his blanket and casually crossed one leg over the other.
…Then, two seconds later, he uncrossed them.
“……”
In the end, he crossed his legs again.
—This looks more composed and elegant. Totally unbothered.
Before long, the team returned.
Loud and rowdy as always, Xiao Pai came in first, followed by Hu Fu and E Lan—but there was no team captain in sight.
The coach asked, “Where’s Song?”
Xiao Pai pulled his phone out of his bag and waved it around. “He’s still in the competition area. He asked me to record the meeting for him.”
“……”
Tan Mo pressed his lips together and looked at the coach. “Is that allowed? Shouldn’t we call him back?”
The coach frowned for two seconds.
Then nodded. “It’s fine.”
“……”
Tan Mo silently uncrossed his legs again.
The coach explained understandingly, “It’s Song’s first time as team captain. The pressure is intense. We should give him some time alone to clear his mind.”
“……”
Tan Mo pulled the blanket over his head and slumped onto the armrest beside him.
A once untouchable, aloof flower, now dejected, hesitant, and humbled.
His heart felt even more uneasy.
…
With only two matches left, the top three teams were giving it their all, unwilling to let the championship slip through their fingers. Meanwhile, WLG remained in a precarious position, still stuck in fourth place.
In Match 4, NSN, perhaps under too much pressure, made a fatal misstep in the second phase—and in an instant, they dropped below BTF.
After Match 4, WLG managed to stay inside the zone every time, thanks to some great luck. Unfortunately, the final circle wasn’t on their side. Hu Fu and Xiao Pai, using a cover fire & repositioning strategy, barely held on and secured third place.
With that, the overall rankings now stood as follows: 1st – Catch22, 2nd – BTF, 3rd – WLG.
The coach hadn’t expected much, but Sang Ye’s leadership had led the team to this result—an unexpected outcome that rekindled hope.
And now, the nerve-wracking final match had begun.
This time, WLG returned to P City.
The good news? They didn’t run into BTF, avoiding an early-game fight.
The bad news? The zone shifted east, meaning from Phase 1 onward, they were constantly under pressure, and each encounter was against a top-tier team.
Phase 2: WLG got gatekept at a bridge by the Japanese team but managed to break through using a nearly-exploding convoy of vehicles as cover.
Phase 4: NSN sprayed their cars near a compound. Xiao Pai solo-flanked to divert attention, sacrificing his position to ensure the team’s survival.
Phase 5: A showdown with Catch22.
Phase 6: Hu Fu got knocked twice before trading kills with an opponent.
Final Circle: Amidst the chaotic fight, WLG wiped out a nearby team—leaving just one last survivor, Song.
But the match wasn’t over yet.
Across the wheat field, on the other side of the battlefield, one last enemy remained—
BTF’s Gal.
“Oh, come on!” Yu Haotian smacked his forehead, feeling his dreams shatter. “D*mn it, we made it this far, and now we have to go up against the ultimate lone wolf—Song’s kryptonite!”
The coach sighed. “Guess there was no escaping fate.”
WLG had spent three entire matches avoiding BTF—only for fate to throw them together at the most crucial moment.
Commentator A: “The system’s win probability estimate is BTF 70%, WLG 30%. This is based on their current positions, but honestly, I think Gal’s chances might be even higher.”
Commentator B: “That’s right. Gal didn’t dominate the PKL region for no reason. I’ve seen his arms in person—wow, they’re seriously built. His flick-shot precision is insane. In a 1v1 gunfight, the only player I’ve ever seen go toe-to-toe with him is Tan Shen.”
Commentator A: “Looking at the rankings, here’s an interesting twist—if BTF fails to secure this chicken dinner, they’ll end up just one point behind Catch22, losing the championship once again. You can bet Gal will go all out for this final kill.”
And the commentators were absolutely right.
At this moment, Gal was buzzing with excitement, his adrenaline surging. It wasn’t just because this was the final match—it was because his last remaining opponent was Sang Ye.
He’d been waiting for a chance to take revenge, and now it had arrived.
Nothing thrilled him more than blocking WLG from making it to Worlds.
He was going to shatter Sang Ye’s confidence, make him realize that it was his own mistakes—his very presence—that cost WLG their World Championship slot.
…
On the other side, Sang Ye felt… lost.
Despite nearly a month of rigorous training, he still wasn’t on Gal’s level when it came to pure precision.
After all, one month wasn’t nearly enough time for a player to undergo a fundamental transformation in skill.
Xiao Pai clenched his fists nervously but didn’t yell. His voice trembled slightly: “Bai Mao… it’s fine. Just go for it. It’s all or nothing.”
Yes—on the battlefield, victory and defeat often come down to a single second.
Sang Ye swallowed lightly, discarded a useless attachment, reloaded, and mentally counted down before leaning out from behind the haystack.
Gal grinned, revealing the sharp edges of his teeth.
The moment he spotted movement, his powerful wrist snapped in a massive flick-shot—the bullet whistled through the air, locked onto Sang Ye’s head.
But at that exact moment—
Sang Ye instantly dropped prone.
The bullet grazed his Level 3 helmet, shaving off just a sliver of health—
—but he had already started spraying at Gal’s exposed legs.
What?!
Gal gritted his teeth as he watched his health bar drop, then snapped off a second shot with a fierce flick.
But it missed.
Sang Ye seized the opening, quickly sidestepping to peek out. His wrist deftly flicked the mouse, his fingertips rapidly tapping to unleash a burst from his DMR.
—Five bullets.
“It hit!!!”
As the commentator shouted in excitement, the entire audience erupted, with many fans leaping to their feet.
Sang Ye blinked, then swallowed again.
At that moment, his heart rate monitor displayed 150 BPM.
“God Song is insane! Congratulations to WLG for securing the final chicken dinner!”
Hearing the deafening cheers fill the arena, Sang Ye’s mind went completely blank.
Was it over already…?
He couldn’t quite believe it.
Was it time to go back now?
And if so, did that mean he was about to see…
Suddenly, his heart rate monitor spiked to 180.