TuxedoTranslations

Chapter 85

When schedules tighten and life grows busier, time seems to sprout wings and fly.

In the blink of an eye, the training event was already halfway through, and stark differences had begun to emerge among the top teams.

Saber-Tooth, armed with overwhelming manpower and resources, became the only team so far to successfully conquer a 25-player large-scale raid—the Garloran Ruins—taking a week and a half to bring it down. They immediately began second runs to farm gear for five members to reach item level 1480, displaying staggering efficiency and effort.

Meanwhile, the veteran Polaris team, weakened by a lack of fresh talent, had no hope of claiming first-clear for Garloran. But thanks to the creative genius Lin Mingfei, they were the first to recognize the situation and cut their losses early. Braving the storm of public criticism, they stubbornly pushed through Scorpion-Eye Trench, a PVX area despised by other teams.

By exploiting hidden mechanics left behind by the game developers, they managed a full team gear replacement—an extraordinary, dramatic feat that captured everyone’s attention.

Compared with them, the other teams neither have Saber-Tooth’s huge, solid manpower and resources nor Polaris’s quirky thinking and daring innovation. Most of them, after banging away at the initial content for a while with no results, had no choice but to change tactics and copy Polaris by switching to substitute gear setups. So one by one they grudgingly went to grind the legendary Scorpion-Eye Trench. But they soon woke up to the fact that this PVX sanctum they used to look down on wasn’t actually easy to conquer — they’d simply fallen from one frying pan into another.

So far, the best prepared teams are Saber-Tooth and Polaris. But for some reason, compared with Saber-Tooth, who have been exhausting themselves grinding second-run raid content just to assemble full sets for every member, the atmosphere inside Polaris feels a lot more relaxed.

To be honest, all five Polaris members are very satisfied with their current builds. Although the 1500-item gear has a few irrelevant stats, their overall item level is higher than others’, and the needed attributes are well balanced: they’re brutal in the arena and also very tanky. It’s basically an ideal state, so they don’t fuss about whether to do first clears or not; to their fans it looks like Polaris’s only job every day is calmly training in the arena.

Because Saber-Tooth is busy finishing their second-run clear and recently had a miserable time in Scorpion-Eye Trench, Polaris rarely meets any professional teams of equal skill in the arena — at most they face a few competent streamers or pick-up ringers, and usually they win by crushing them. They unabashedly steamroll opponents in the arena, which makes fans in the livestreams happy to watch, and Polaris’s popularity has climbed steadily during the prep period. They’ve become the game-official “most anticipated team,” ranked number one by vote.

With rising popularity, He Youjin’s business side has taken off too. All kinds of brands started offering endorsement deals; He Youjin was swamped. The sponsors who had already been working with them, afraid this fat, long-brewing prizehog might be poached by others, proactively doubled their sponsorship fees — it made He Youjin grin from ear to ear.

Meanwhile, Polaris had just finished a ten-match win streak in the 5v5 arena. Zhou Yanjun stretched and said, “This is way too easy. I didn’t even do much and we won again. The player skill in King’s Tomb now really can’t compare to back then. Damn, who can stop me!!”

“Don’t get cocky,” Lin Mingfei slapped the back of his head and said in a low voice, “in two days you’ve met no more than a handful of professional matches. You even lost once to Shadow — what face do you have to say ‘who can stop me’?”

“That Shadow match was a total fluke! Mainly because Xia Tong hadn’t crossed with mmDou yet! That’s why he died instantly at the start,” Zhou Yanjun defended.

“MmDou could easily be called the top wizard right now,” Bo Yu analyzed calmly. “In personal skill he outperforms Saber-Tooth’s goblin player, it’s just that Saber-Tooth’s team coordination is better.”

“True,” Shi Ya nodded. “MmDou’s wizard playstyle is actually similar to some hunters’套路—he’s great at switching aggro and bursting, very sneaky. If you don’t know him or aren’t familiar, he can carry the rhythm away from you, so it’s not all Xia Tong’s fault.”

“It’s indeed not solely Xia Tong’s fault,” Lin Mingfei said flatly. “It’s our whole team’s problem.” He put his hands in his pockets and turned, brow slightly knit, jaw tilted just enough to amplify his masculine presence — a posture that made everyone involuntarily attentive to him. He first looked at Zhou Yanjun: “You knew mmDou is a burst-type wizard — why did you switch to healer mid-game?” Then he looked at Bo Yu: “If you hadn’t missed that opening control, Xia Tong wouldn’t have been forced to step out and lock their knight.” Finally he glanced at Shi Ya, who shrugged: “You don’t have to tell me — I’ll reflect on it. I panicked a bit in that wave and thought you were down, so I cast a damage-reduction skill on you, which overlapped with your ‘invisibility,’ and later I couldn’t use skills to protect Xia Tong.”

Lin Mingfei shook his head. His single lecture had flattened the whole team like frostbitten eggplants.

“To put it bluntly, the holographic esports dictionary doesn’t include the word ‘mistake.’ What is a mistake? It’s insufficient practice intensity, inadequate strategic planning, an error made in a panic — a tiny error that leads to huge loss,” he said earnestly. “Who have we faced recently? Pickup teams, entertainment streamers. I believe the teams we beat before — whether Hulu or Rainbow — didn’t treat us with full seriousness. They looked down on us. I’m sure that when we face teams who go all out, they won’t treat us like that anymore. Have you thought what the situation will look like if they give their full effort?”

Silence.

“Besides, the teams we’ll face aren’t just Hulu, Jiutouniao, Rainbow — there’s Shadow and Saber-Tooth. You saw Shadow earlier; they really are strong.” Lin Mingfei exhaled softly. “And next week, we’re scrimming against last year’s champions, Saber-Tooth.”

At those words, the other four all raised their heads at the same time; their eyes sharpened, seriousness flooding their faces.

“So don’t get too cocky.” Lin Mingfei’s tone softened into a smile. “You’re all geniuses. The thing geniuses fear most is getting full of themselves — and when geniuses clash, it’s the details that decide the match. I believe what I just said will be a source of motivation, not pressure. Rest for now; we’ll review the replay later.”

“But we just won those rounds — why review?” Zhou Yanjun asked, a little puzzled.

“We’ll study how to shave a twenty-minute win down to ten minutes, and how to make a ten-minute win into an opening where the enemy dies and disconnects immediately,” Lin Mingfei said. “E-sports: strength never ends.”

—

Sometimes, in the eyes of outsiders, Lin Mingfei seems like an impossibly strong competitive machine — almost freakishly so. He’s strict with his team and even harsher with himself. When in a slump, he can stay calm and unshaken; when riding high, he can remain rational and precise. Because of this, he can always lead his team to find the right path amid countless twists and turns.

The review sessions he led opened a whole new world for the Polaris team. Everyone, just like Xia Tong, held a small notebook in hand, jotting down thousands of words of analysis while watching the match replays looping on the holographic projector. They soon discovered that the same strategy could lead to completely different outcomes against different opponents — and being able to pick the most advantageous approach in the shortest time wasn’t just a matter of mechanical skill anymore.

That, perhaps, was the true charm of King’s Tomb, and the lifelong pursuit of every holographic e-sports player.

As time passed bit by bit, Saber-Tooth also completed their second and third raid clears. Their entire team had switched to 1480-tier high-grade gear, becoming a true elite force with attributes matching Polaris’s.

As the first and only team to successfully clear the new 25-player large-scale dungeon Galaran Ruins, Saber-Tooth’s name and emblem were inscribed on King’s Tomb’s in-game Hall of Honor. From that point on, every player who ran that dungeon would see that Saber-Tooth was the first to conquer it — an unparalleled glory.

Saber-Tooth’s fans were ecstatic, celebrating all over the forums — but soon they ran into Polaris’s fans, who were celebrating their team’s arena win streak with just as much noise and pride.

The two fandoms looked at each other’s trending threads, found each other increasingly annoying, and — unsurprisingly — started a full-on flame war.

During lunch, Lin Mingfei idly scrolled through the forums and commented blankly,

“Honestly, sometimes I really don’t get what they’re even fighting about.”

“What?? Fans are finally arguing for us?!” Zhou Yanjun’s reaction was the exact opposite of his.

“What?? We have fans now?” Xia Tong’s reaction was even more outrageous.

Lin Mingfei stared at them both, chopsticks in hand, expression unreadable. After a long pause, he muttered,

“Sometimes I really feel like this is all surreal. Your reactions make me think our team’s about to go extinct.”

“It’s just that fans are fickle these days,” Bo Yu said matter-of-factly, sipping his soup. “Half a month ago, when we were still grinding Scorpion-Eye Trench, they wouldn’t even come to our streams.”

Lin Mingfei scrolled through the heated comment threads, looking for all the world like an old man watching phone drama on the subway.

“What did you see? Why’s your face twisting up like that?” He Youjin leaned over curiously — Lin Mingfei scrambled to turn off his screen but was a second too late.

“Judging from looks alone, Z-God’s probably more enduring than D-God!”

He Youjin read the already-trending post title out loud, bold as brass.

Lin Mingfei: “……”

Shi Ya sighed gloomily beside him.

“Gotta admit, these omega fans of yours really go above and beyond fighting for your honor.”

Lin Mingfei: “……They really don’t have to.”

He Youjin let out a long “Ehhhhh.”

“Wait, that’s something you can tell just by looking?”

He then turned to scrutinize Lin Mingfei’s face seriously.

Lin Mingfei felt goosebumps rise all over.

“What the hell are you looking at! Of course you can’t tell!”

He Youjin: “……So you’re saying you aren’t more enduring than him?”

At that point, Xia Tong — always eager to join in — chimed in with bright-eyed curiosity,

“Wait wait, what’s this about? Drinking? Why doesn’t Zero drink as much as Dylan?”

A vein twitched in Lin Mingfei’s forehead — his alpha pride pricked like a big cat with its fur standing on end.

“Are you kidding me? Of course I’m more enduring! Just look at Dylan’s acne scars — clear signs of liver and kidney deficiency!”

Xia Tong clapped excitedly.

“Then next time there’s a drinking contest, take me with you!”

He Youjin promptly choked on his food.

“Cough cough cough—”

Lin Mingfei: “……Can we please skip this topic.”

Expressionless, Bo Yu picked up a piece of food and, like a philosopher summarizing life, said,

“I’ve said it before — our club needs a blender.”

Zhou Yanjun’s comment was far less elegant.

“Honestly, I think it’d be more practical to just duct-tape the shortie’s mouth shut in advance.”

—

All in all, the topic was definitely not child-friendly, and everyone tacitly dropped it.

Meanwhile, at Saber-Tooth’s club, a group of people were fuming as they read the very same online fight.

“I swear, Polaris is getting way too cocky,” Goblin slammed the bar counter, grinding his teeth. “They just lucked out once — came up with some gimmicky gear build no one had seen before — what’s so great about that? People are praising them like they’ve already brought the trophy home!”

“Wouldn’t surprise me if they slipped the devs a nice fat check,” Dylan said coldly, a bitter laugh on his lips.

The two of them made the atmosphere in the base thick and heavy. Robin King, Mo Lan, and Yoyo didn’t know what to say — they were all afraid of provoking Dylan, who’d been especially volatile lately.

After a long silence, Yoyo tried to bring up arena training, but before he could finish, Dylan suddenly stood up and strode off toward the practice room without a word.

Once he’d gone in and slammed the door shut, Yoyo hesitated and turned to Mo Lan.

“Should we… join him in-game?”

Mo Lan crossed her arms irritably.

“Forget it. Doesn’t look like he wants to train with us anyway. Dylan’s getting harder and harder to deal with lately. Goblin, are you a masochist or something? Why do you keep trying to cling to him? Can’t you tell he’s sick of you already?”

The goblin looked a bit wronged. “I—”

“Eh, well, who told him to be that good? If I could carry the whole match, I’d probably act cocky too,” Yoyo sighed, resting his chin in his hands.

“You? Even if you carried the whole match, you wouldn’t act like that,” Mo Lan rolled his eyes. “That’s just a personality thing.”

“Alright, that’s enough. Are we still playing the team match or not?” Robin Wang said gravely. “Anyway, we’re just playing together for a few years. Once we retire, everyone goes their separate ways—no one owes anyone anything.”

“Don’t say that, Old Wang. I still want us all to stay good friends…” Yoyo said softly. Then he tugged lightly on the hem of Mo Lan’s jacket. “Lan-ge, don’t stay mad at Dylan, okay? Let’s just go train together.”

Mo Lan let out a long sigh, a little helpless. “Forget it, what’s the point of holding a grudge? Let’s go.” He was about to turn when Zhao Xin hurried in through the door.

“The official server’s having issues. The streaming plugin’s been hit by a malicious program. To prevent account data leaks, no one should log in for now,” Zhao Xin said.

“But D-ge just went to the training room,” Yoyo said. “Should we tell him to log off?”

“He’s already online?” Zhao Xin looked surprised.

“With our base’s connection speed… yeah, he’s probably already in,” the goblin said, shrugging and muttering, “If we hadn’t been arguing, the whole team would already be online.”

“The operations department said no one should log in or out casually right now. Forcing a logout could damage the ‘Cocoon’ driver. If he’s already in, just leave him. You guys can hang around and chat until the maintenance is done,” Zhao Xin sighed.

—

Dylan was in a foul mood. Once he logged in, he noticed there were barely any people in the game. He clicked on his streaming plugin—nothing opened.

It was strangely peaceful for once.

Dylan let out a long breath. A thought stirred in his chest, and he headed to Saber-tooth’s training camp.

Ever since the pre-season events started, the officials had made it mandatory to start streaming as soon as you logged in. It had been a long time since he’d had the chance to practice the legendary “close-range triple snipe.” But deep down, he refused to give up, refused to believe in that so-called “e-sports luck god” nonsense.

“I don’t believe I can’t pull it off again,” he muttered angrily, walking up to the target range and cocking his gun.

Bang.

Missed.

Bang.

Still missed.

Bang.

His hand trembled—then came two mocking laughs behind him.

“So the ‘E-sports Luck God’ really does exist, huh?”

Dylan jolted violently, as if someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over his head. Every hair on his body stood on end. He turned sharply toward the voice and saw a tall, thin figure emerge from behind the equipment shed.

“Ping Shuai?!” Dylan’s face went pale. “What the hell are you doing here?!”

“Why can you be here but I can’t?” The mage in the gray robe let out a cold, sarcastic laugh and said meaningfully, “As expected… only Zero could perfectly pull off the close-range triple snipe.”

Dylan’s face twisted with anger and embarrassment. “So you still miss your old master, huh? What, regret betraying your Zero? Why don’t you crawl back to Polaris then? Saber-tooth doesn’t need trash like you—though I doubt Polaris would want a useless piece of crap either.”

Ping Shuai didn’t get angry. He tilted his head limply, like a corpse drained of blood. “I don’t care. I’ve got nothing left to lose. But you, D-God—you’re different. Just now, I secretly recorded a video. If everyone finds out that your godlike triple snipe was nothing but dumb luck… what do you think they’ll say?”

Dylan’s eyes bulged. “You—!” He paused, then snarled, “I don’t give a damn about that triple snipe crap. I don’t even use it in actual matches. I can win without it!”

“No one cares whether you win or not. I certainly don’t.” Ping Shuai’s voice was icy. “But your image—that’s already tied to that miraculous triple snipe. Everyone says you’re sharp, calm under pressure. That’s what sets you apart from your teammates, what puts you on a pedestal. That’s where your commercial value comes from. But if all that’s just a coincidence—an illusion—how far do you think your worth will fall? Any one of your teammates could take your place as the next ‘god.’”

“F*** you!” Dylan exploded, shouting curses.

“I’m being generous, you know,” Ping Shuai said coldly. “Choosing this particular moment to tell you. You should be grateful the streaming plugin is down right now.”

Dylan froze for a moment, then drew a deep breath. A hint of reason returned to his voice. “What do you want?” he asked through gritted teeth.

“My demands are simple.” Ping Shuai held up one finger and wagged it lazily. “I want to be on Saber-tooth.”

Dylan’s pupils contracted slightly.

“The goblin may be dumb,” he said mockingly, “but he’s ten times sharper than you. What makes you think you deserve to be on our team?”

“Why? Because I’ve got proof of your so-called ‘E-sports Luck God’,” Ping Shuai replied calmly, with a careless smile.

Dylan’s breath hitched. He bit his tongue hard and said, “You know it’s not up to me—it depends on match performance—”

“But the match results are up to you, aren’t they?” Ping Shuai’s lips curved suddenly. “I know you’re playing a scrim against Polaris next week.”

“You want Polaris to win?” Dylan’s breathing grew faster; his fists clenched.

“I don’t want Polaris to win. I just want the goblin’s spot to open up.” Ping Shuai’s tone was soft and venomous, like a snake flicking its tongue. “How you make that happen… depends on you, D-God. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

Feel free to buy me a coffee/show your support on ko-fi! Thank you ❤