Chapter 18 – Looks Like… A Wild Goose
“When do you want to start?” Once the terms were set, Zhou Heng had no reason to delay.
“Now.” Yang Sa said, glancing at the dusty computer in the corner.
“That’s for the sparring partners.” Zhou Heng thought it was inappropriate. “How about tomorrow? I’ll set up the same configuration as the first team.”
“No need for that trouble. My friend just flew in from abroad, and he can’t sleep, so we’ll play a couple of games to adjust to the time difference.” Yang Sa said casually. “Just got back from Weiguang, taking a night to rest would be bullying you guys.”
As soon as these words were spoken, a wave of boos filled the live stream. Zhou Heng, who was used to the battlefield, didn’t react much, but his teammates were already rolling up their sleeves, gritting their teeth, ready to teach these bragging guys a lesson.
“I’ll give you ten minutes to rest and let the tech team set up the equipment. How’s that?” Zhou Heng asked.
“No problem.” Yang Sa glanced at his friends and replied. Behind him, two people, one in blue and the other in black, had already taken out their phones and started playing PUBG Mobile.
The barrage of comments quickly started mocking the strange team.
[“Get this straight, we’re using the PC version for the match. What’s the point of mobile games?”]
[“Hold on, they probably can’t tell the difference between mobile and PC versions.”]
[“And they still want to challenge us? They must be here to entertain us.”]
[“This +1…”]
[“I’m on my knees—knew you were this kind of heartless bast*rd.”]
[“I already drew my 40-meter-long blade, and this is what you show me?”]
[“I even took off my pants…”]
The chat was filled with pleas, as if they were farmers who had tilled the land, planted seeds, watered, and weeded—only to have their harvest snatched away at the last moment. They had washed their hands and drawn their knives, only for the melon to be taken away. Of course, the audience wouldn’t stand for it.
The chat was flooded with people begging him not to leave, promising they’d place bets in secret so the officials wouldn’t detect them.
Some didn’t even bother typing—rockets worth 1,000 each were fired like they cost nothing. Within moments, this unremarkable livestream had shot up to the front page and dominated the hourly ranking.
Since starting his streams, Jiang Ge had never seen anything like this. He was at a loss for what to do, so he turned to his older teammate, Luan Feng, for advice.
Luan Feng didn’t hesitate. He told him to bypass Captain Zhou Heng and ask the challengers directly.
That way, when the match started, even if Zhou Heng noticed Jiang Ge was still streaming, he could brush it off by saying the opponents had agreed to it.
After all, at this moment, neither the team members present nor almost anyone in the livestream believed that Jie Ao would lose.
The only exceptions were Mu Chen’s Weiguang team and Xinghai’s captain, Mars.
“I’m putting down 2,000—betting on Jie Ao to win.” Tangyuan squinted at his chicken claw and declared boldly.
“I’m putting 4,000—betting on Jie Ao to win.” Qin Chuan raised the stakes.
“I’ll put in 4,000 too.” Zhuang Bai added. “What’s the point? This is completely one-sided.”
“10,000.” Shao Zhan spoke calmly. “Betting on LAP to win.”
“Captain, I love you.” Tangyuan puckered his greasy lips. At that moment, Shao Zhan looked to him like the God of Fortune.
Shao Zhan ignored his mockery and simply reminded his teammates, “Get your money ready.”
“International server?” Zhou Heng took the initiative to suggest it. Even when facing a direct challenge, Jie Ao still had enough sportsmanship.
After all, they were a professional team, whereas this LAP team across from them… well, they looked rather amateurish.
“Doesn’t matter,” Yang Sa replied, completely unaware that the other side was giving him a choice as a courtesy.
“Pick a map,” Zhou Heng offered, making every effort to show goodwill.
“Up to you,” Yang Sa answered.
Through the livestream, viewers could see that Zhou Heng had chosen Erangel, the map most familiar to regular players. In the bottom right corner of the screen, through Jiang Ge’s camera, a figure could be seen lounging in a chair, legs crossed, half his body practically slipping off the seat.
Shao Zhan smirked slightly, thinking to himself that this person hadn’t changed at all since childhood—clearly born with a pretty boy face but never sitting properly.
On his slanted shoulder, the top of a bright blue head was barely visible. Even through the screen, it was quite an eyesore. No wonder Jie Ao’s team hadn’t taken these guys seriously.
Shao Zhan watched the stream with interest.
As soon as the match began, LAP made a dramatic entrance, boldly provoking all teams in the global chat in three different languages—Chinese, English, and German.
And they kept their word. They said they’d drop at Military Base, and they did.
Almost the moment they landed, the kill feed lit up with rapid-fire combat reports.
[LAP—Killer knocked down Avocado with a Micro UZI.]
[LAP—Killer killed Avocado with a Micro UZI.]
[LAP—White knocked down Get Lost with a UMP9.]
[LAP—White killed Get Lost with a UMP9.]
[LAP—BLUE killed Hangover with a Kar98K.]
…
Seeing the kill feed flood with reports, not only were the fans watching the livestream stunned, but even Jiang Ge, in front of the camera, couldn’t help but curse under his breath, “Lunatics.”
The chat erupted into laughter, with fans expressing their sympathy. [“It takes real talent to push Ge Bao to the point of swearing.”]
More and more viewers started spamming the word [“protect”] in the public chat.
LAP, landing at the military base, was like a swarm of piranhas diving into deep waters, baring their sharp teeth and turning the usually controlled battlefield into a bloodbath.
Players who habitually contested the military base were known for their solid tactical skills and precise shooting.
Yet, many of them found themselves eliminated almost instantly upon landing—some were even shot out of the air before they had a chance to gear up.
Since there was no camera switching, Shao Zhan had to analyze the battlefield based on the reports flashing across the screen and the small portion of the desktop visible through Jiang Ge’s livestream.
LAP’s kill count was skyrocketing, reaching a terrifying 33 kills within the first five minutes.
Such an overwhelming presence was bound to attract enemy teams looking to take them down, yet their kill rate remained high. This suggested they weren’t spending much time repositioning, only making necessary movements.
With such an intense firefight, ammo consumption must have been massive. Shao Zhan noticed that while LAP was a full four-man squad, only three players appeared frequently in the kill feed.
The “invisible fourth member” was clearly handling other critical roles—looting buildings, transporting ammunition, scouting routes, directing team movements, and providing medical support.
Shao Zhan could figure it out, and naturally, so could the battle-hardened players of Jie Ao.
From the livestream, their strategic adjustments were evident: Zhou Heng led his team in the opposite direction of the safe zone, speeding forward in four vehicles. Their goal was clear—to engage before the enemy even realized what was happening.
Just like when Shao Zhan played against the German team, their goal wasn’t to win the match. In this showdown, the only thing that mattered was taking down their opponents.
Before the game started, none of Jie Ao’s players had considered these intruders a real threat. Even Zhou Heng, who had been interested in recruiting Yang Sa, hadn’t taken the match seriously, treating it as a casual warm-up round. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have ignored Jiang Ge’s decision to stream.
However, the moment the match began, this odd-looking team pulled off an even stranger playstyle—so bold and reckless that it was almost laughable. Their childish pre-game taunts made them seem like nothing more than a bunch of playful troublemakers.
But the moment they landed, LAP completely overturned the battlefield with their overwhelming combat power.
It got to the point where almost every team abandoned their usual strategy of chasing the safe zone and instead rushed toward the military base.
On their way, teams inevitably encountered one another, yet—almost without communication—they all chose to avoid unnecessary fights.
At that moment, everyone had the same objective:
Take down the fully-stacked squad dominating the military base.
As Zhou Heng merged into the larger force pursuing LAP, he shook his head. He had to admit—this strange team of oddballs, currently drawing all the aggression inside his own base, had an inexplicable magnetism.
Even if one didn’t like them, it was hard not to be drawn in.
He glanced at the ever-growing number of squads gathering behind him, then accelerated toward the overpass—before suddenly drifting into a sharp turn, blocking the entrance with his jeep.
The rest of Jie Ao’s players instinctively followed their captain’s lead, jumping out and spraying bullets at the vehicles.
In an instant, the entrance to the overpass was completely barricaded by the burning wrecks of four exploded cars.
The foreign teams, who had just been discussing in public voice chat how to take down the squad at the military base, were suddenly dumbfounded.
Hadn’t they all agreed to wipe out LAP first before fighting each other?
Where had these troublemakers come from?!
Before the confused squads could react, Jie Ao had already opened fire with full force.
LAP was their prey.
No one else was allowed to take a piece of the feast.
At this moment, Jie Ao saw Yang Sa and his team as nothing more than a dish served up on a platter.
Since so many teams were eyeing them, Jie Ao might as well warm up by clearing out these side dishes before moving on to the main course.
Kill Feed Updates:
[Arrogance—ZHOU used S12K to kill Devour]
[Arrogance—Strom used M416 to knock down Soft Cancer]
[Arrogance—Song used Vector to knock down Bikini&7]
[Arrogance—CHEN used a Thompson SMG to kill Bikini&7]
…
The screen was flooded with a barrage of kill notifications, sending a chill down the spines of the remaining players on the battlefield.
Was this some kind of cosmic misfortune?
Mercury retrograde, Mars retrograde, Saturn retrograde—should gamers start checking astrology charts before logging in?
How lucky (or unlucky) were they to end up in the same match as two squads of absolute monsters, taking turns dominating the kill feed?
Were they just target practice?
Was this some sick way for those psychos to satisfy their twisted craving for bloodshed?
But even if they were fodder, these players weren’t going to just roll over and die.
Even if they lost, they wouldn’t simply feed kills to their enemies.
As the game entered the second half, several players had already chosen to go out on their own terms—standing tall as they primed grenades and blew themselves up.
A few members of Xinghai Esports found the absurd kill announcements so amusing that they completely forgot about their earlier frustration.
Meanwhile, at the same gaming café, the Weiguang Esports team was also watching the match unfold—though it seemed like they were missing some key details.
While the players themselves remained oblivious, sharp-eyed viewers in the livestream chat were already leaking spoilers.
[“Weiguang’s players just arrived!”]
[“Where?! Where?! Let me see!”]
[“Don’t push! Don’t push! Let me through—I have 20/20 vision!”]
[“I have 20/19.”]
[“20/18 here. You guys wanna keep going?”]
[“Alright, clear the way. I have myopia, hyperopia, AND astigmatism. Show some respect for the visually impaired!”]
[“MOVE! I see him—it’s Bull from Weiguang! THE Big Bull!”]
As Jie Ao’s team rampaged through the international server, Jiang Ge’s livestream was suddenly flooded with messages screaming [“Big Bull!”]
Bull—or “Wild Bull,” as fans called him—was practically a semi-celebrity in the esports world.
His short temper and fiery personality had landed him on trending lists countless times.
At first, people only flamed him.
Then, after roasting him over and over, they somehow grew attached—like dealing with a bratty kid.
You yell at him every day. You scold him every day. And before you know it, he’s become a part of your life.
For many, their hatred of Bull gradually turned into admiration, skipping the usual middle ground entirely.
They eventually realized that his personality was just naturally like this—not only did he trash-talk opponents on and off the field, but he was just as ruthless toward his own teammates.
But the most deadly thing about Bull?
He flamed himself even harder—with brutal self-roasts that cut straight to the soul.