Cheng Su raised an eyebrow.
If it weren’t for the fact that Lin Zhaoxu’s panicked expression right now looked far too real to be faked, he would never have listened to this recording. After all, their own marksman had once slipped all kinds of horror effects and ghostly screams into voice chat.
The two sat in silence, waiting for the phone recording to play.
[… zzzt zzzt… come on, man, something like that you should be asking a doctor. What use is it asking me?]
Ghost’s voice? Cheng Su looked up in shock and doubt at Lin Zhaoxu, only to find the other looking even more flustered than himself, as if the sky were about to collapse.
I overheard him on the phone. Lin Zhaoxu gestured frantically with both hands, then finally held up two fingers.
Cheng Su raised an eyebrow: What’s with the peace sign?
Lin Zhaoxu: …Peace sign, my ass, I mean the second time—second time!
[The doctor said rest, then rest. …Finals? Just let the substitute play. That’s what substitutes are for, right?]
[… pfft. What does it matter to me if you’re eating veggies? Even if you had hundreds of brothers eating with you, it’d have nothing to do with me, got it? Just because I don’t like that trash team doesn’t mean I’m quitting pro play. Do you realize what happens if this sort of thing gets exposed?]
[I never should’ve helped you with your teaching license exam back then—stupid beyond belief… What the hell do you mean “I thought betting on my own team to win would be fine”? You moron.]
Then came a long silence, as if the person on the other end was rambling on at length. After quite a while, He Yaohui spoke again.
[… I’m telling you, don’t pull some idiotic stunt teaming up with the team doctor. Right now, all you can do is pray that Meng cares more about winning the championship than anything else. Honestly, with a coach like you, I can’t help but feel sorry for him.]
The recording cut off there.
Lin Zhaoxu almost immediately yelled: “Holy shit! Navic’s coach is betting on—!”
Betting on matches—!
Before he could shout out the key words, Cheng Su reacted fast, wrapping an arm around his neck and clamping his hand over his mouth. “Keep it down.”
“Mmmph! Mmphhh!!” Lin Zhaoxu’s face flushed red as he struggled with all his might, glaring furiously with his eyes.
Cheng Su sighed and let go. “Don’t go yelling like that. Do you want the whole world to know you eavesdropped?”
“Huff, huff—damn! How else would I have found out something like this if I didn’t eavesdrop!?” Lin Zhaoxu gasped deeply, his expression shaken to the core. “Isn’t it obvious from that recording? Finals, Meng, coach—he’s talking about Navic’s coach, He Yuan!”
“He’s fixing matches!”
“But he bet on Navic to win.” Cheng Su was calm. “If he bet on his own team to win, why would he throw matches?”
Lin Zhaoxu: “Uh… y-yeah, that’s true?”
The gold medal marksman froze, trying to get his not-so-brilliant brain to turn: “Could it be because he’s really strapped for cash? Is the Navic coach’s salary that low, that he needs betting as a side hustle?”
“You don’t need to flip your stance so quickly.” Cheng Su sighed again. “No matter who he bet on, as long as he’s in the gambling game, it counts as match-fixing and he’ll be punished.”
“And the key point is the doctor and Meng Xiyue. I did hear Meng had a hand injury before… and it seems N team still isn’t planning to use a substitute.”
Lin Zhaoxu was even more confused: “So he wants God C to play injured? But that doesn’t make sense—if God C’s condition worsens, how does that help him? If they lose because of the injury, won’t he be screwed too?”
“Isn’t it possible he’s been in on betting for a long time already? But because Navic’s players, results, and fanbase are all so ‘dominant,’ he’s been too afraid to throw games, so he only ever bets on his team winning?”
After all, for a team at Navic’s level, winning is the norm. The moment they lose, every detail gets torn apart under the spotlight—by fans, trolls, analysts, influencers, streamers. If there were any hint of match-fixing, it’d be exposed immediately.
Lin Zhaoxu’s eyes went wide, sucking in a sharp breath as sudden clarity struck: “S-so that’s why he keeps making God C play… to keep winning? That’s insanely stupid! No matter how strong a team is, wins and losses are normal! Crispy Duck isn’t literally a god!”
That made sense. Even God Himself couldn’t guarantee a perfect record.
Cheng Su lowered his eyes: “And yet, the fact is—Navic only lost six BO3s in the whole regular season, and four of those were played entirely by Fiw. If he’s been consistently betting on big wins, he must have made a fortune already.”
Lin Zhaoxu was struck speechless.
After a long silence, he rasped: “Then what did he mean about the doctor…?”
“Meng Xiyue’s hand injury must already be severely overstrained. Normally, a substitute rotation would be necessary. But with the immature Fiw, how could they possibly face North America?”
Cheng Su’s gaze turned cold: “He Yuan must’ve placed his bets early, not realizing Meng Xiyue’s condition would worsen, and now the doctor suggests rest. Considering how much he’s already made, the humane choice would be to disclose Meng Xiyue’s injury, apologize to the fans, and send in the substitute.”
But to suddenly swap rosters in the much-anticipated Mid-Season Championship, and bench none other than the domestic Spring FMVP? A coach doing that without explanation would be crucified, his reputation forever destroyed in esports.
By comparison, disclosing the injury would still invite doubts about the coaching staff’s competence, but plenty of nave fans would defend them—saying “injuries happen,” “no one wanted it to be this way,” “I’m in tears,” and so on.
… The only difference is that He Yuan would lose money. And if he dragged others into betting with him, he might have to pay an even steeper price.
Cheng Su clearly saw this too, his tone turning even icier: “Of course, even with all these obstacles, there’s still what some would call the best solution. If the player knowingly bears the injury, insists on fighting for honor despite the coach’s ‘advice,’ and ultimately wins the championship… then for everyone else, it’s a Happy End.”
Except for the poor guy being treated like a cash cow, squeezed until his very last drop of blood.
Lin Zhaoxu felt as if a massive hammer had struck his skull. That so-called Happy End sounded unbearably cruel.
The two exchanged a look. The words from He Yaohui’s mouth—pray that Meng Xiyue values winning the championship above everything else—kept echoing in their ears.
After a while, Lin Zhaoxu’s eyes reddened, and he dry-heaved a few times. “I’m gonna puke, Brother Su. Just the thought of it makes me sick. How can it be this disgusting?”
Before his eyes, he seemed to see a picture: the cold, beautiful “Moon” crawling with countless bloodsucking leeches, clinging to his back, his hands, his torso. Each one was swollen and glistening, so engorged that their filthy veins were visible beneath their translucent skins.
And worse than the image itself was Lin Zhaoxu’s sudden realization—this was like the ancient tale of “two peaches killing three warriors”: even if exposed, the arrow had already left the string; there was no turning back.
His limbs felt drained of all strength. Even when he opened Meng Xiyue’s chat window on WeChat, words like “Don’t play, fight again next year” or “Skip tomorrow’s finals”… stuck in his throat and could not be spoken.
A coldness rising from deep within his body made him shiver. His voice cracked with a sob: “Why does this dumbass make a mistake, and God C has to take the fall?”
“......”
Cheng Su sighed silently and patted his junior’s shoulder in comfort. “Leave this to Yue Huo… they’ll handle it.”
What he didn’t say was: since the recording involved He Yaohui, Yue Huo had every right to know.
Besides, apart from not knowing what role He Yaohui had in He Yuan’s gambling, the fact that he kept such close contact with other teams’ coaches in private… tied together with his upcoming transfer, this might also involve illegal private dealings.
——
May 13.
The team’s pre-match pep talk concluded. Staff on-site reminded Navic’s starters to get ready—it was just two minutes before they had to enter.
For safety, Meng Xiyue once again strapped on his wrist guard.
The team doctor sprayed on some topical anti-inflammatory medicine, sighing heavily.
Meng Xiyue chuckled: “Why so pessimistic?”
“Ugh, I really…” The doctor couldn’t hold back his sadness. “Might as well knock you out and tie you up. Yesterday we doctors talked ourselves hoarse and still couldn’t stop you.”
“I can’t exactly withdraw now, can I?”
The doctor rolled his eyes, wishing he could just shove the spray into his mouth.
Beside them, Fiw’s eyes were red like a rabbit’s. “S-sorry, brother…”
“No need to apologize.” Meng Xiyue pressed his shoulder wordlessly. “Just be ready to go on at any time.”
Fiw nodded.
Before stepping out of the player tunnel, Meng Xiyue fixed his gaze on He Yuan. “Honestly, Coach He, what you just said completely changed my opinion of you.”
“Before, I really didn’t see your passion for esports.”
“But today is different.” A faint smile crossed Meng Xiyue’s lips. “I didn’t expect you to entrust me with your earnest wish for victory… Don’t worry. I won’t let anyone who values honor down.”
With that, he turned and rejoined the team.
“Please—you must win! This is our shared dream!” Behind him, He Yuan bowed deeply, nearly ninety degrees.
The older coach trembled as he sobbed softly, tears glistening in his eyes, as though even he had been moved by his own heartfelt words.
Only—no one could see his expression from that posture.
When teammates saw Meng Xiyue return, they whispered, “Brother Meng, what happened?”
“Nothing.”
The young man’s smile faded. “Give it everything. Leave no regrets.”
“Yeah—!!”
——
“NAVIC—!”
“NAVIC—!”
“Wooooooh—Crispy Duck!!”
Shouting along with the live broadcast, Xu Hexuan planted one foot on the sofa, waving around the expensive mini-support banner for Meng Xiyue that he had bought.
His yelling was loud enough to be heard over the phone, leaving Ji Yunyu speechless. “Your roommate’s an Nv fan?”
“Mm.” Sui Ning thought for a moment. “A finals-only fan.”
“…Huh?”
“Watches only the finals. Can’t remember anyone’s name except the FMVP.”
Xu Hexuan immediately turned around. “Bullshit, don’t slander me! I know N-bao’s player IDs backward and forward!”
“…Because the host just made the fans shout them all out together, right?”
Sui Ning watched him leisurely. “Then tell me—what’s Navic’s top-laner’s real name?”
Xu Hexuan: “Uh. Please don’t dig into the real identities behind the players.”
Ji Yunyu overheard and couldn’t help but complain: “They’re not VTubers!”
“Uh, same difference.”
It was obvious the kid didn’t know the answer. Sui Ning could only shake his head helplessly.
He put his phone down on the ground and continued tidying up his luggage: “Are you guys watching the match right now too? In the training room?”
This question was aimed at Ji Yunyu.
Ji Yunyu responded with a “Mm.” “These kinds of matches are usually watched together. But Yue Huo’s wandered off somewhere on his own.”
“Together? Strange I don’t hear Lin Zhaoxu’s voice. That’s rare.”
“He’s weird, just ignore him.” Ji Yunyu paused, pursed his lips, and lowered his voice, “…Why are you so concerned about him anyway?”
“Well, if a loudspeaker suddenly cuts out, you’d take a look too, wouldn’t you?”
Ji Yunyu: “Pfft!”
The boy was amused by his comparison.
But Sui Ning’s concern wasn’t entirely unfounded. Lin Zhaoxu was also watching the livestream. From the moment Navic appeared on stage, his face had been solemn, and he kept muttering under his breath.
Ji Yunyu raised his brows curiously and tapped his chair with his foot: “What are you mumbling about?”
Lin Zhaoxu gave him a flat glance, expressionless, then turned back and continued muttering.
Ji Yunyu: …
He looked toward the support: “What’s wrong with your son?”
Cheng Su closed his eyes: “Adolescence. Don’t worry about it.”
“…?”
Wei Ye, on the other hand, was much more eager: “I know, I know. His expression looks exactly like a fan watching their home team’s match all anxious and tied up in knots!”
Ji Yunyu was even more speechless: “So Navic is the son Xu’s home team…?”
“A pro from PNG considering another team in the same league as his home team?”
Wei Ye froze: “Uh.”
“Hey, stop guessing.” The subject himself, gaze deep and voice sighing, said, “You’ll never guess it.”
He seemed to want to explain, struggled for a long time: “In short, I’m not the same person you used to know.”
Like a middle schooler who’d suddenly seen through the evils of the world, he had become much more subdued—only feeling that the world was unbearably filthy, while he himself was just a powerless ant trying to shake a tree.
Wei Ye scratched his head: “Split personality?”
“……”
“Schizophrenia?”
“…Screw you guys.”
——
Soon, in the Garden Stadium, a massive eight-sided projection screen descended, showing each player’s image one by one alongside their signature champions, ensuring fans from every angle could see the broadcast clearly.
The fans shouted and cheered with all their might, the momentum overwhelming and electrifying.
On the largest central screen, fireworks burst open, revealing a giant title and countdown.
Mid-Season Invitational – Final – PARTIE 1
Natus Vincere vs Napleb
Countdown 00:40
The broadcast cut back to the domestic stream, where two familiar figures appeared at the caster’s desk. One tall, one short, one fat, one thin—without a doubt, this was HPL’s two most veteran casters, Qing Ci and Chao Mi.
“Good evening to all the viewers back home, welcome to the finals of the S6 Mid-Season Invitational. I’m caster Qing Ci.”
“And I’m Chao Mi.”
Despite his cultured-sounding name, Qing Ci was notorious for his cheeky commentary and loved to set up flags that came back to slap him in the face. Even before the match started, he began warming things up: “As we just saw, Navic’s coaching staff barely edged out the coin toss, winning side selection. No hesitation at all, they chose blue side for game one.”
Chao Mi nodded along: “That’s right. Based on the HPL Spring Split stats, teams on blue side have about a 52.7% win rate overall, definitely giving them a slight advantage.”
“This is also closely related to the decline of marksman-centric strategies in the current patch. The late-game carry marksman comps we favored in the past are becoming rarer this season. All regions are leaning more toward grabbing strong mid-jungle combos first.”
Qing Ci jumped in right away: “Exactly. And that’s one of the reasons we’re so confident in Navic today. After all, God C just won Spring FMVP, and he’s in incredible form right now. His synergy with longtime jungle teammate Truik is also top-notch.”
“Yes, this mid-jungle duo’s performance this year is absolutely not to be underestimated.”
Then Chao Mi shifted the tone: “But their opponent Napleb is also a powerhouse from North America. They shocked everyone by taking down Korea’s seed in the semifinals. In that BO5, the strength they showed definitely proved NA isn’t a ‘bottom feeder’ region. We can’t be blindly optimistic.”
“Exactly. Let’s see what kind of brilliant performance Navic can show us today.”
After a bit of chatter, the match officially entered the pick/ban phase. Perhaps because it was game one, both sides’ choices weren’t particularly surprising—very standard across the board.
Qing Ci stroked his chin: “Navic’s picked the Shadowmoon Gun and the Shadow of Vengeance mid-jungle combo—no problems there. It’s a combo they frequently used during the regular season. Putting the marksman champion Shadowmoon Gun mid, N team is already very practiced with that style.”
“Napleb, though, is going off the beaten path, picking Frost Archer and Frost Goddess as their dual carries, plus a not-so-strong Bloodthirsty Ninja in the jungle… That lineup feels kind of old school.”
Chao Mi couldn’t help laughing: “I think this might actually be the first time we’ve seen Frost Archer recently, right?”
“Right, the last time she appeared on an international stage was back in S4.”
Domestic viewers couldn’t hold it in when they saw Napleb’s draft.
[Can’t handle it… how do I ‘clam’ to this? Cover the IDs and I’d think this was my glorious Bronze game!]
[Don’t flame them too hard. Blur the video quality and you can almost pretend it’s S4.]
[Come on Napleb, even taking just one game would count as a success!]
[Bro upstairs, did you bet? Why so enthusiastic?]
[Tbh, Napleb’s draft is trash. The coaches really didn’t throw? Not banning Shadowmoon Gun is basically stomping all over my CC’s face.]
As the audience expected, this game was practically no contest.
Cpyhc’s Shadowmoon Gun, a long-ranged marksman champion, had strong laning power early on, plus the marksman’s triple strengths—tower pushing, dragon control, and lane rotations. Napleb simply couldn’t keep up with Navic’s fast pace and got snowballed by 12 minutes.
By 25 minutes, the gold gap had widened to nearly 7,000. Refusing to just sit and wait for death, Napleb launched a desperate fight at dragon pit, hoping to flip the game. Reality was brutal—Navic, with their lead, gave no opening, wiping both team and dragon off the map to take game one in dominating fashion.
[…Uh, I just kissed my wife for a moment and it’s already over?]
[Damn, bro upstairs has some good lung capacity.]
[That was bloody, but still feels like something was missing.]
[The opponent just feels too weak… how the hell did they beat the Korean team?]
In game two, hard-headed Napleb once again let Shadowmoon Gun through, this time grabbing Shadow of Vengeance’s first. Coach Brother Beard wiped his sweat and muttered something incoherent.
Didn’t matter—Navic took another win, reaching match point 2:0.
[????]
[What’s with this NA beard guy?]
[It’s over, our comrade’s cover is blown… Told you, if you’re gonna be an undercover, at least don’t make it so obvious!]
[Somebody give him a Party ID card already.]
[Brother Beard: My loyalty to the Party is clear to heaven and earth!]
The casters were helpless: “Uh… looks like Napleb really thinks they can crack the Shadowmoon Gun mid-core strategy, huh.”
“Mm, uh… I’d call that a bold attempt, but not a very successful one.” Even Qing Ci was sweating.
How the hell was he supposed to spin this?
“The coaching staff really needs to talk to their players fast. If they can’t figure it out, maybe just perma-ban Shadowmoon Gun—it might be better that way.”
Chao Mi nodded: “Yeah, I think Napleb is afraid if they ban the Moon, Navic has an even scarier fallback. But clearly now isn’t the time to worry about that—if they don’t ban it, they’ll get carried out in a 3:0 sweep!”
Thankfully, Brother Beard’shead was a little softer than a certain team who refused to ban. Game three started with Shadowmoon Gun · Faye finally banned.
Both casters and viewers collectively sighed in relief.
“So, in this game, does Navic have something new to show—oh, oh, oh, what’s this??”
A strange blue-haired girl appeared in Cpyhc’s champion slot. He hadn’t used this champion once all season.
Qing Ci’s jaw dropped, eyes wide: “Stellar Sprite - Aeria—??? Huh???”
[?????]
[????]
[Ahhhhhhh???]
[Mis-pick??]
“The production tells us it’s not a mis-pick, he really meant to choose this champion…” The caster’s words stumbled, “W-wait, has God C even played this before?”
“They say he’s used it in training matches, but never once on stage. And this is the Mid-Season Finals!”
Qing Ci paused, then realization hit: “I get it, is this a hidden strat? Could it be that Navic has an Aeria setup they’ve been keeping under wraps?”
Chao Mi agreed: “Very possible! Another explanation is they’re testing new tactics. After all, they’re already 2:0 up, they have some room.”
“But we still hope the players stay sharp—absolutely don’t underestimate Napleb.”
[‘Room’ my ass, just close it out 3:0, okay? Why play fancy now?]
[Aaaaah I all-in bet 3:0, don’t screw around, guys, please!]
[Everyone who bet is lining up on the rooftop now. Damn, it’s cold up here.]
The pleas of the people who bet didn’t work.
Game three, sure enough, was lost.
Meng Xiyue flashed a playful, slightly regretful smile, with a helpless air, as if to say: Well, I knew I couldn’t pull it off.
During the break before game four, Cpyhc’s pre-recorded interview happened to air.
These clips were filmed in advance but only the most interesting ones would be chosen to air during the match, and one in particular came off especially “ill-timed.”
Host: [What would you say is your signature champion?]
Meng Xiyue smiled gently: [Faye, I’ve played him the most this season. But in this tournament, I’d really like to show everyone something different.]
Host: [Oh? A secret weapon?]
Meng Xiyue: [Not really, I’m not very good at it. Mm… it’s fine to just say it directly—it’s Stellar Sprite - Aeria. Right now the national server player of Aeria is really amazing, I’m learning from him too…]
Host: [Learning? So you think he’s stronger than you?]
Meng Xiyue: [With Aeria, yes. He’s much stronger than me.]
[?????]
[Wait, did I time travel?? Is this video edited??]
[Damn?? My Feng-bao just got name-dropped out of nowhere??]
[Ah… ah?? Yesterday I was still fighting with people on the forum saying not to drag Feng-bao into pro discussions, and today the pro himself praises him on stream…? What the hell…]
[I almost dropped my melon on the floor. “Much stronger”… what… is this plot twist? The streamer I follow is about to get famous worldwide?]
[Thanks for the invite, the expensive sundae I bought is now all over my feet, scared me ^^.]
[What the hell!! Since when do these two know each other, why didn’t anyone tell me!!]
The trio watching the stream fell silent.
Xu Hexuan almost stared at Sui Ning in horror.
Suddenly name-dropped Sui Ning: Uh.
On the voice call, Ji Yunyu’s breathing quickened, his voice a bit gritted: “You… and him are close? S-seems like I’ve never heard you mention it.”
Sui Ning: “Uh, well.”
Sui Ning: “I don’t know him.”
“…Then why would he say that?”
“Navic had also sent me a tryout invite before, maybe he noticed me back then. As for Meng Xiyue… maybe he really does want to learn Aeria?” Sui Ning tilted his head innocently. “His Aeria really is pretty trash.”
Xu Hexuan choked: Damn it… just die from arrogance already…
Ji Yunyu was easy to coax and believed him: “Oh.”
The black-haired young man blinked, and went back to packing his luggage during the break in the match.
----------
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