Chapter 32 – The Leaping Orange
A reckless looter who had long been eyeing the supplies climbed up from the base of the hill, sneaking around and cautiously approaching the area. Just as he began picking through the weapons, two gunshots rang out.
[Leaping Orange used S1897 to knock down Audio Monster 887.]
After waiting in vain for a teammate to come rescue him, Leaping Orange, now fully in control, decided to finish off the low-HP enemy.
While Orange was looting the airdrop, Yang Sa used the battle report from his teammates to deduce Shao Zhan’s location.
Based on his pacing, Shao Zhan should’ve arrived by now. He knew Yang Sa was a skilled sniper, and with the airdrop landing here, it was unthinkable that Shao Zhan would pass up the opportunity. He had to be coming for him.
At this moment, Shao Zhan was surely lurking somewhere, waiting for Yang Sa to reveal his position.
Greed is a human weakness.
If Leaping Orange had grabbed the loot and left right away, this story might’ve ended differently.
But he didn’t. He paused to pick through gear and lingered for just two more seconds by the drop.
Those two seconds were all it took.
A rustle came from the bushes along the lower right edge. A figure in forest-green camo crept up silently. Just as he adjusted his scope to aim, the looter at the airdrop turned into a loot box right before his eyes.
A kill notice flashed across the screen:
[LAP—Killer used SCAR-L to knock down Leaping Orange.]
[LAP—Killer used SCAR-L to kill Leaping Orange.]
The spectator hiding in the bushes crouched even lower.
He was just a passing noob—not cut out for this kind of god-tier battle.
As he was debating whether to sneak away the same way he came, a crossbow bolt landed right at his feet.
He bolted from his hiding spot in panic, running without a clear direction.
Yang Sa watched someone wearing the same skin as him appear in the airdrop area and thought,
If only he hadn’t panicked so much, it might’ve been better.
He was gambling.
He was betting that Shao Zhan had already arrived, ready to ambush him. He was betting that even Shao Zhan had blind spots in his vision.
Truthfully, Yang Sa choosing to observe from the high ground of the church was a gamble too. Because of how the game’s aggro system worked, it was easy for enemies to sneak up on that position.
But isn’t the whole match a gamble?
At least for now—he hadn’t lost yet.
Another crossbow bolt landed at the man’s feet. Yang Sa had originally intended to help guide his path—but the moment he released the shot, he knew it was unnecessary.
Because the person he had so carefully flushed out was gunned down the instant he revealed himself.
[Starcraft—Mars used MK14-EBR to knock down NoobPleaseSpareMe.]
[Starcraft—Mars used MK14-EBR to kill NoobPleaseSpareMe.]
The kill reports popped up almost simultaneously.
Shao Zhan, facing off against his longtime rival, had no intention of holding back.
But even before the kill report appeared, he realized he’d made a miscalculation.
That person wasn’t Yang Sa.
He should have waited just a little longer.
If only he had noticed the arrow at the man’s feet beforehand, he never would have taken the shot.
But in a duel between top players, there’s no room for hesitation.
The moment Shao Zhan fired and gave away his position, Yang Sa shattered a window and fired a sniper shot in response.
[LAP—Killer used AWM to knock down Starcraft—Mars.]
The announcement shook the entire match.
Yang Sa had managed to pinpoint Shao Zhan’s location just by sound, and landed a clean, deadly shot.
The spectators were shocked—and even the Xinghai team was caught off guard.
Not because Shao Zhan was invincible, but because his defeats in one-on-one gunfights were exceptionally rare—especially when he was still at full health.
When Shao Zhan charged up S City without firing a shot, the team had already guessed he was going to line up a kill.
What they didn’t expect was that this full-speed charge would end up being a gifted headshot—the most valuable one of the game.
Based on the distance, there was no way to save him in time.
Xinghai’s players quickly regrouped, focusing on the enemies at hand.
Lying on the second floor of a slanted-roof house, Shao Zhan couldn’t help but let out a dry laugh as he thought back on the events.
He had always been the fisherman.
This time, he’d been the bait.
Such a mistake was rare in his professional career—yet it was exceptionally memorable.
His momentum was in sharp decline, and he considered whether to be practical about it—maybe just pull a grenade and send himself back to spectate with the team, rather than lying here waiting for someone to steal the kill.
But the area was remote, far from the main battlefield. Chances were, there wouldn’t be many players coming to loot.
He gave up on the idea of suicide and spent his final moments mentally reviewing his last few moves.
Just as Shao Zhan was analyzing the situation in his head, a set of hurried footsteps suddenly charged up the stairs.
Sh*t—someone actually came to finish him off.
By the time Shao Zhan reacted and reached for a grenade, it was already a bit too late.
Along with the sharp, slicing motion of a charging figure came a crisp gunshot.
Shao Zhan’s screen dimmed, and standing in front of him was someone holding a rifle with unshakable poise.
[LAP—Killer used AWM to kill Starcraft—Mars.]
With a cold, composed expression, Yang Sa holstered his weapon. At his feet lay a grenade that hadn’t had time to detonate.
…
“D*mn, that was brutal,” grumbled Tangyuan, his round belly rising and falling as he huffed with frustration. He cursed loudly at the screen showing his teammate’s perspective. “You already knocked him down—why go all the way back just to finish him point-blank?”
Compared to the emotional Tangyuan, Shao Zhan was as calm as ever. After a brief pause, he switched to spectating his teammates still in the game.
Up ahead, a chaotic melee had broken out over the high ground of S City.
Jiang Ranan and Zhuang Bai held a temporary upper hand in a 2v2 skirmish, and with Yang Sa returning to back them up, victory—once an uncertain gamble—now had a clear direction.
Game Two: Victory to LAP.
“Tsk.” Tangyuan smacked his lips, took off his headset, and used his chubby fingers to fix his hair, checking his reflection on the screen. “Haven’t seen him in years—the kid’s really something now.”
Shao Zhan wasn’t impressed by his smug tone.
“A few years ago, he beat you on the field like it was child’s play, remember?”
Tangyuan shook the tufts of hair flattened by his headset and glared wide-eyed.
“Captain, is this really the time to boost the enemy’s morale and crush your own teammate’s confidence?”
Shao Zhan leaned an elbow on the desk, his long fingers gently stroking his fair chin as he said calmly,
“I’m just stating the facts.”
Under the desk, Tangyuan’s thick legs were propped up in frustration, his breathing heavy with anger, the flesh on his cheeks jiggling with each breath.
“Heartless. You’ve got a new favorite now, haven’t you? Forgotten your old flame already?”
Shao Zhan shifted sideways, barely saving his back from being thrown out.
“You’re just dead weight—don’t go calling yourself an old flame.”
“Captain, you don’t love me anymore? You really don’t love me anymore?”
Tangyuan clutched Shao Zhan’s hand dramatically, sniffling and tearing up as he listed off all his past contributions.
“Even if I haven’t made any grand achievements, I’ve at least worked hard, haven’t I?”
Shao Zhan eyed the layers of fat on his teammate with exaggerated scrutiny.
“Doesn’t look like you’ve suffered much.”
“You—” Tangyuan choked on his words, his fury deflating like a leaky balloon. He covered his face with his pudgy hands and began to fake-cry, complete with dramatic sniffles.
Kind-hearted Jiang Ranan leaned over the table and patted his round head. Just as the words of comfort reached his lips, the screen switched back to the game scene.
The team quickly resumed their positions.
On the screen, Jiang Ranan caught a glimpse of Tangyuan putting on his headset again, now wearing an expression of smug dominance, like he was ready to conquer the world.
Jiang Ranan wisely kept his concerns to himself.
Zhuang Bai, watching everything from the side, took it all in with a slightly downcast expression as his gaze shifted back to the screen.
Shao Zhan followed the flight path with his eyes, marked the drop point on the screen, and silence briefly fell over the operations room.
This was just a small friendly match. In an official competition, core strategies and techniques would be kept under wraps. What was being tested here was team coordination, situational awareness, and adaptability.
After several rounds, the dynamics of the match were becoming clearer. The opposing team wasn’t a professional squad—they lacked the rigorous training of a formal team—but perhaps because of that, they often unleashed unexpected and lethal moves.
You could get a glimpse of their chaotic style just by looking at their appearances: one in black, one in white, and one in blue. That lineup alone looked like it belonged in a zoo exhibit—with a big cage to boot.
And the real heavy hitter was someone bold enough to talk tough to the league—and strong enough to back it up.
Shao Zhan couldn’t help but picture that boy in his mind. A black mask covering most of his face, eyes sharper and colder than they were three years ago, his entire presence radiating a sharp, unapproachable energy.
Even now, after actually facing off against him, it still felt surreal—like that person standing in front of him was a dream too distant to touch.
But he had a feeling… a sense that he was getting close to touching that sliver of reality hidden within the dream.
That defiant youth, leading a ragtag team with such swagger into the league, the determined reason he insisted on entering the tournament, the subtle probing of Xinghai Club’s intentions—perhaps all of it was connected.
Maybe it held the key to explaining why the boy had appeared so suddenly three years ago—only to vanish without a trace.