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.”