Chapter 1

At seven in the morning, Rong Yi was awakened by the vibration of his phone.

Groggily, he answered the call.

The voice on the other end was very courteous: “Rong-Ge, I’m at your doorstep. Are you ready?”

Rong Yi’s voice, still heavy with sleep, was a bit hoarse but pleasantly smooth: “Sure, give me ten minutes.”

The person on the other end adopted a patient tone, “No rush, we came too early. We understand the schedules in this industry.”

Rong Yi quickly got out of bed, threw on a white shirt, and went to wash up.

What he didn’t bother to explain was that, as an esports player, his routine was actually quite stable.

In his mid-teens, he often stayed up all night in internet cafes. But after he turned twenty, he quickly realized he couldn’t keep up that lifestyle anymore, and started drinking goji berries in hot water for health.

When he stepped out, the man at the door was visibly stunned.

It was no surprise. Rong Yi, as the renowned but never-seen shotcaller of RS Team, was often assumed to be unattractive.

However, the young man before him was strikingly handsome, with fair skin and a youthful appearance reminiscent of a high school student. His almond-shaped eyes were particularly captivating.

Rong Yi carried himself without any airs, embodying a casual elegance in his delicate features.

Seeing the man speechless, Rong Yi raised an eyebrow and broke the silence: “RVG Team?”

“Yes, yes, I’m the manager of the RVG Club. Here’s my card.”

The manager handed over his business card, “Today, I’m mainly here to show you our facilities. It’s the off-season, and our club has top-notch conditions. If you join us, you’ll definitely be a star player, and the benefits will be on par with RS.”

“No need to visit the facilities. I don’t want the media taking photos.”

Rong Yi pointed out the window, a hint of weariness in his beautiful eyes, “Let’s just talk at the café across the street.”

The team manager hesitated but didn’t argue, following Rong Yi to the café on the other side of the street.

This area was a commercial district, with residential buildings in the vicinity, making the location highly valuable.

After ordering coffee, they sat down, and Rong Yi remained silent, his head bowed as he reviewed the team materials handed to him.

He was very quiet, his face youthful, but his gaze clear.

This demeanor reminded people of Rong Yi’s early legends—he was known as the world’s best esports scout. Of the four members in RS Team’s championship lineup for the Spring Split this year, three were scouted by him.

What kind of vision would a team targeting someone like him have?

A moment later, the team manager cleared his throat, trying to regain control of the conversation: “…Well, our boss has always been your fan. Now that you’ve parted ways with RS, we thought we’d give it a shot. We’re willing to offer 20% above your current listed price. What do you think?”

“Let’s not talk about money just yet.”

Rong Yi focused on the materials, “I play the shotcaller role, and your team doesn’t lack a shotcaller.”

“We can make room.” The manager tried to show his sincerity, “We promise to make everything revolve around you! Including promotion and team coordination, we can tailor our tactical setup to suit you.”

“We can guarantee resource allocation in your favor, so you can rest assured about that. Moreover…”

The manager glanced at Rong Yi a few times, “As long as you’re willing to appear on camera, it will be a win-win for everyone. Your experience with RS will never repeat.”

“I’ve thought about it, and I still don’t want to.”

Rong Yi replied quickly, his eyes half-closed, his gaze tranquil, “Centering tactical setups around a popular player is no different from RS. There’s no need for us to continue this conversation.”

The discussion had lasted only ten minutes, and Rong Yi ended it decisively, leaving the manager somewhat dumbfounded: “You…”

“That’s it. Thank you for making time for me.”

Rong Yi stood up and paid the bill, then told the front desk, “Please bring another breakfast for that gentleman.”

He turned and headed to the bathroom, feeling a bit drowsy, so he leaned over and splashed cold water on his face.

His phone was still vibrating—the persistent manager was sending him messages.

“Please reconsider! There aren’t many teams that can offer this price. The league’s mid laner player slots are nearly saturated. We’re coming to you with genuine sincerity. Honestly, if you pass on us, you won’t find a better deal. Aren’t you still burdened with RS’s termination penalty?”

…

Actually, the manager was right.

Breaking the contract with RS had cost Rong Yi fourteen million in termination fees, the sum of his earnings over the past few years. Describing him as penniless now wouldn’t be an exaggeration. And indeed, he couldn’t find a better team.

RS had just won the domestic Spring Split championship and were at the peak of their popularity, with extensive connections.

Rong Yi had been the head tactician of RS, but barely anyone cared. After all, he never appeared in public, didn’t give interviews, or release merchandise. More importantly, the current RS no longer needed him.

Even though the in-game BP strategy and lineup configurations were all his work, he was the one most criticized for poor decisions, considered out of sync with the team’s current dynamics.

After washing his face, Rong Yi took the elevator back upstairs and contacted his landlord about moving out next month.

With no stable income, he would soon have to start budgeting carefully.

There were many unread messages on his phone. As he scrolled through them, he turned on his computer.

He didn’t have many close friends, but he knew a lot of people in the industry. Most of the messages were from those who had heard about his contract termination and were seeking information.

Others, like his former teammates and students, remained silent.

They were probably still celebrating the Spring Split victory. Given the current situation, RS was the domestic team most likely to make a strong showing at the World Championship.

Back at home, Rong Yi habitually turned on his computer, started his livestream, and logged into the game in quick succession.

It was still early, and his rank was high enough that matchmaking would take a while. There were only a handful of bullet screens in his livestream chat, greeting him with good morning messages.

His fanbase, which had previously been around 170,000, mostly consisted of RS team fans. Since his contract termination, many of those fans had left. But this wasn’t necessarily a bad thing—before the contract termination, their daily routine was to criticize his tactical allocations. After the termination, they reverted to politeness, dropping by to leave messages akin to a divorce declaration.

Messages like, “From now on, we go our separate ways. May we find our own happiness.”

“Captain Rong, where will you go next?”

Someone in the chat asked, guessing a few popular teams.

Rong Yi, in a good mood, quoted a classic line: “This journey will gather old comrades, ten thousand banners to vanquish the underworld.”

The chat fell silent: “…”

The game began, and Rong Yi stopped talking.

Rong Yi was playing a fully anonymous ranked match. For him, points were his lifeline. He adjusted his headset and microphone, hiding the bullet screen interface to avoid distractions.

In this match, he was placed in a later position and his team lacked a support, so he filled that role. He then noticed that the opposing jungler was playing Yin.

In this rank, everyone used open mic by default. One of his teammates scoffed, “Who’s this? Playing Yin at this rank?”

Yin was a T0 champion in terms of difficulty and popularity, with the highest skill cap and the frailest build. Many could dominate low-tier matches with him, but in high-tier games, he often became a liability.

Rong Yi glanced at the anonymous ID on the opposing team, which had a dark blue anonymous avatar, showing no distinct differences. Yet his fingers paused slightly.

His sense of danger was keen, a feeling that had saved him countless times in critical moments on the arena.

He opened his mic, saying, “Let’s play it safe this game.”

His voice was calm and soft.

“What are you afraid of? Support, follow me.” His teammate sounded impatient, “I’m the fourth rank on the CN server. Stick with me, and we’ll end this in ten minutes.”

Rong Yi had excellent game etiquette. After scouting the vision, he followed his teammate. Just as the two were about to level up their ultimates, Rong Yi noticed something odd about the enemy’s positioning and warned, “Hide from the vision. The enemy has a Yin.”

His teammate barely started moving towards the bush when a silver flash cut through the air. The enemy Yin’s blade sliced in, taking his teammate’s head!

A seamless combo, giving almost no time to react.

Rong Yi marked the prediction point, telling the rest of the team not to come over, but it was too late—the mid laner came over in a desperate attempt to save the day, only to hand the enemy Yin a double kill.

Despite the disastrous start, Rong Yi remained calm. He was about to type a message asking everyone to stay composed when the mid laner spoke up, “Support can’t play. Can’t you deal damage? Didn’t you see the enemy was low health?”

Rong Yi: “?”

The ADC, who had just respawned, also typed in the all-chat, “True, should’ve followed me from the start. This support is kind a trash.”

They were using all-chat, so both teams could see their seamless blame-shifting.

Rong Yi was a rank slave, willing to endure any hardship to rank up. He had seen many situations like this and had accumulated some experience.

After careful consideration, he sincerely typed back, “Alright then.”

“Why don’t you two call the police?”

The game quickly fell into a deathly silence.

At the twelve-minute mark, the enemy Yin was already 12-0.

Zero assists, all solo kills.

He was indeed formidable. This rank was already within the top fifty on the CN server, likely a pro player.

Rong Yi searched his memory of known pro players but couldn’t think of anyone whose signature champion was Yin.

After a few small team fights, the game quickly entered the familiar stage of defending the base.

Their mid laner hadn’t dealt more than 10% of their total damage so far. Since Rong Yi was playing a damage-oriented support, he switched his equipment to focus on clearing minions.

Seeing his new build, his teammates suddenly revived their dead spirits and started spamming the all-chat again.

“Is this support for real?”

“Are you throwing the game?”

Rong Yi: “?”

Rong Yi had a low tolerance for idiots. Just as he was about to start flaming, the enemy jungler, who had been silently racking up kills, suddenly typed a line.

[Enemy (Yin)]: “If it weren’t for your support, I could’ve killed you twenty times.”

[Enemy (Yin)]: “If you don’t understand why, feel free to ask me.”

While typing, the enemy Yin seamlessly killed two more of his teammates.

Rong Yi’s team’s morale took a hit in the opposite direction. The two players being criticized went berserk, abandoning their towers and charging at the enemy.

They successfully handed the enemy Yin another double kill.

Rong Yi, dead in the fountain, watched the entire sequence of the enemy Yin’s operations with interest.

It wasn’t just because the enemy stood up for him, but because this Yin was the first one in years whose mechanical skill and game sense were so impressive.

This game was a loss. After the defeat, the result screen popped up.

The match ended, and anonymity was lifted, revealing both teams’ IDs.

It turned out that Rong Yi’s ADC and mid laner were indeed top players on the CN server, but their gold conversion rates were lower than his by a tier. Upon seeing Rong Yi’s ID and realizing he was a pro player, they sheepishly exited the lobby.

Rong Yi reported them one by one, feeling better. He was just about to send a friend request to the enemy jungler when his fingers hesitated.

The enemy Yin’s ID caught his eye: [Yin]

On the global server, IDs are unique and cannot be duplicated.

From KDA to tactics, to playstyle, even the ID was clean and sharp, hinting at a cold and decisive nature.

Everyone else had left, leaving just the two of them, their avatars still lit on the result screen.