“Winnnnnd——! What an unbelievable play!”
After howling along with the fans for a good while, both commentators’ voices were hoarse.
“The match hasn’t even hit the 30-minute mark yet! No one—and I mean no one—could’ve predicted it would turn out like this!!” Qing Ci shouted excitedly, his voice cracking with adrenaline. “First, a solo kill in a 1v1 lane duel, and then a stunning pentakill in the team fight!”
He was practically glowing with enthusiasm, his words overflowing with praise for Sui Ning. “Who could’ve imagined that Wind, in his first ever professional appearance, would score a pentakill? We all underestimated him!”
Chao Mi chimed in, equally energized. “Exactly! This kind of debut performance is extremely rare in HPL history!”
Qing Ci continued, his tone firm with conviction. “At this point, I believe everyone—both the players on stage and the audience offstage—has realized something very clear: you cannot treat Wind as some inexperienced rookie. You cannot let your guard down against him!”
Chao Mi nodded emphatically, his voice carrying weight. “And this round, AQ paid a painful price for doing just that! The gold difference between red and blue sides is now nearing seven thousand! Just in mid-lane alone, the gap is almost five thousand! At this point in the game, Aeria is practically invincible!”
[Serves them right for refusing to ban her, huh? Thought they could ‘test’ Aerie’s strength? How’s that working out for you? (lol)]
[AQ: Let’s just try her! Come on! Fight us! ...and die!]
[I typed ‘mm’ so many times—from ‘meimei’ to ‘mengmeng’ to ‘mangmang’—who knows what I went through! I’m exhausted!]
[Where are the people who said Wind would get crushed by Dami, huh???]
[…Come on, anyone who thinks this is some miracle? It’s a Bo3. Of course, snowballing happens—nothing unusual.]
[ Oh please, fake “reasonable” takes from Lemons again? Maybe hide your follow list first before pretending to be neutral. I can’t stop laughing.]
[Anyone defending AQ right now is clearly a Lemons! Your daddy just wrecked your idol, deal with it!]
[Haha, exactly—today’s target: Lemon squad, executed flawlessly.]
[Stop hating, stop hating—have you even watched Wind’s in-game cam? He’s a mage mid who goes Legendary just from positioning and auto attacks! Wind is eight hundred patches ahead of your fave!]
The live chat was scrolling at lightning speed, and the broadcast director—well trained by now—quickly cut to the replay.
Every second of the pentakill fight was replayed in slow motion. The blind-snipe that killed Pygg from complete darkness was shown in a triple-view format—PNG’s perspective, AQ’s perspective, and the god-view—accompanied by seamless camera transitions. Even the most clueless viewer could now see just how insane that prediction shot had been.
At 16x slow-motion, the meteor skill hit Pygg perfectly in the bush, triggering yet another kill notification. The crowd in the arena erupted again, unable to contain their excitement.
[That Q alone deserves a spot in the year’s Top 10 plays!]
[An instant classic… his first pro game, not only a pentakill but a highlight moment too! The match isn’t even over yet and I just wanna ask—WHY didn’t AQ ban Aeria?!]
[Why didn’t they ban Aeria?]
[Why didn’t they ban Aeria?]
Online fans were equally out of control. The moment the replay ended, the top trending searches shifted once again—#1 trending now belonged to him. The top few spots on the trending board were absolutely exploding:
#WindPentakill#
#PNG_Wind Pentakill#
#DoYouEvenKnowTheWorthOfAnEsportsMaleLead#
#CNServerNo1AeriaHighlight_ReignOfStars#
#XG_SoftwindIsHere#
The heat index of the top tag was downright absurd. The hashtag square looked like a cult in meltdown—filled with inhuman noises and primal screams: “Aaaaahhhhh!!” “I’m losing my mind!!” “Feng-baoooeqhahaaah!!” and “Hehehe pentakill ahhh!!!”
Among the sea of posts, only the match screenshots were remotely normal. Everything else was pure chaos: meme packs, doge faces, monkeys dancing around a campfire, diamond emojis, and humans bowing before idols.
Comment: Feng-baooo oh oh oh oh hhh ahhhh—
Comment: Did the top trending list just get hijacked by Flower-Fruit Mountain??
Comment: Totally normal. The sane people are still watching the match. The hashtag crowd? They’ve lost all reason—like me, hehe~
Comment: A rare prehistoric record of humanity’s descent into worship—thank you for letting these museum artifacts resurface again ^^
The chaos was endless; even paid marketing bots couldn’t keep up with the fans’ posting speed. It wasn’t worth trying to suppress it—better to just endure.
Meanwhile, Xu Meng’s PR team saw the trending explosion and nearly choked from rage.
After all their prep—TV shows, “young esports prodigy” branding, hype campaigns—building him up for weeks just to have his big breakout coincide with this? He’d been on Hot Search #1 for barely ten minutes before being knocked down to #5. Even the paid trending slots were dropping fast.
They couldn’t even out-buy the hype. No matter how many tags they boosted, Wind’s single tag overwhelmed them all. Both sides lost out, and Xu Meng’s team looked ready to explode.
And not just the main topic—every trending board related to the match was flooding with hundreds of new comments per second. HPL fans had collectively lost their minds.
Comment: My mom asked why I’m kneeling while watching. I told her it’s out of respect—for God.
Comment: Honestly, after this game, ‘Why didn’t they ban Aeria’ deserves to become the new gospel. Congratulations, AQ, you clowns.
Comment: Arrogant—seriously, so arrogant. Dared to pick it, dared to play it, and pulled off a pentakill right after. Even the male leads in wish-fulfillment novels should bow down to Wind!
Comment: Damn it, I’m an AQ fan, and now scrolling through this comment section feels like I’m walking into enemy territory! But—he’s just too handsome, ahhhh!!
Comment: Unreal. Yesterday I read an esports novel where the male lead debuted in the national server and went 8–0 in his first match—I thought that was already over the top. Reality just went even further!
Comment: For real, I admit my imagination has always been way too limited. From now on, I suggest esports screenwriters go wild! If it’s not as satisfying as Wind, I’m not watching!
Comment: Chapter One: Debut. Chapter Two: World Champion. Skip the buildup, just go straight in bold!
Comment: Yeah, this guy debuted live on the World Championship stage. I’m dead from laughing.
As the online spectators kept chatting, they somehow ended up creating two new trending tags: #EsportsDramaWritersTooTimid# and #EsportsWritersNeedMoreImagination!#
The screenwriters who saw it nearly blacked out: What the hell—before this, if the drama’s male lead even just won his first pro match, people said it was too unrealistic. Now Wind shows up, and suddenly everyone’s screaming that the protagonist should debut in the World Finals and score a pentakill right away?! What’s wrong with this generation of viewers?!
——
Hangzhou, Film Base.
The moment the trending charts got pushed around like that, Xu Meng’s manager was, of course, the first to know.
My Jungle Belongs to You was being filmed and aired simultaneously. Xu Meng had just finished two scenes and was resting in the shade when he checked his phone—and his face immediately fell.
Manager Zhang looked even angrier than he did, eyes bulging like cowbells. “That Sui Ning—does he have to go against us at every turn?! We built an ‘esports prodigy mid-laner,’ and he builds one too? We hyped a ‘debut pentakill,’ and he does that too?! What is this, some kind of leech you can’t scrape off? Is he addicted to sucking our blood now?!”
The assistant Xiao Yu, holding an umbrella beside them, was sweating bullets. “Uh, this... this must all be coincidence, right…”
Was Manager Zhang completely losing it? How could this count as leeching? This situation had nothing to do with the entertainment industry’s usual hype-parasitism at all! Xiao Yu swallowed nervously.
Manager Zhang let out a sharp snort through his nose, eyes rolling almost to the sky.
Of course he knew it was coincidence—one was filming a show, the other was playing for real. Even if it wasn’t, they’d still be in the wrong for running with a fake persona. But still—it just rubbed him the wrong way! How could there be such a perfectly timed coincidence in this world?!
And the coincidence wasn’t even the worst part—the worst was that their team and company had spent so much money, only to get overshadowed in a blink!
Today’s 1:00 PM episode was supposed to be Xu Meng’s character’s career highlight! And now? Gone, just like that—barely made a ripple!
A message came in from the company: [Not a good time to push. Real-time traffic is way behind. Boosting back up would cost a lot more now.]
Manager Zhang nearly exploded. “What’s that supposed to mean?! We’re just giving up this time?!”
He turned to Xu Meng, voice impatient. “That trending tag, #DoYouEvenKnowTheWorthOfAnEsportsMaleLead#—why aren’t we using it? Your character Guan Ci is one of the dual male leads! He’s a young genius in the drama—more than qualified to count as an ‘esports male lead’!”
Xu Meng’s face went pale. He bit his lip hard, feeling like he’d just swallowed a fly.
Leech off Sui Ning’s popularity? Might as well tell him to die. And besides—how could a fictional TV series compete with reality? It’d only lead to people dragging him through the mud again!
Moreover—
He glanced at Manager Zhang, who was still flailing in agitation, then lowered his eyes to hide the disgust in them. His voice came out soft but cold: “…There’s nothing we can do. The fact the company sent that message means... this is the only way.”
Manager Zhang didn’t notice his expression, still sighing endlessly. “Ah, how could this happen? You’re the C-position from Idol Gas Station! You’ve got so many future shows and film offers—the best is yet to come! And now the company won’t even pay a bit more? How can they let Sui Ning suppress you every time? It’s him who owes you!”
Each word jabbed into Xu Meng’s chest. He took a deep breath, forcing down the resentment boiling inside. “No point talking now. Guan Ci’s highlights in this drama aren’t over yet. Once the later face-offs air, we won’t be… overshadowed again.”
His tone was quiet and fragile, but the stiffness in his voice was unmistakable—he even avoided saying Sui Ning’s name directly.
Hearing this, Manager Zhang slapped his forehead and started muttering again. “Right, right! Make sure you act well opposite Movie Emperor Pei—you two already have a good CP fanbase…”
Xu Meng closed his eyes slightly, feeling that this manager was both stupid and unbearably noisy.
He pulled out his phone again and opened the third trending topic. Just a few minutes had passed, and sure enough, people were already mocking Guan Ci and Softwind.
Comment: Softwind? Heh.
Comment: I’m gonna puke. Suggest the male lead change his ID (rolls eyes).
Comment: No one actually thinks My Jungle Belongs to You is a serious show, right? Right?? ^^
Comment: Damn, the overlap is insane. My Feng-bao just debuted and already got plagiarized into a drama, sob sob sob ^^.
Comment: I’m dying laughing. I heard the drama had a bit of “Wind flavor,” so I was gonna check it out—but turns out the male lead’s fans are leading the Wind-hate brigade? Still out here embarrassing themselves at Longhu? I’m lighting a candle, RIP.
After torturing himself through a few of those comments, Xu Meng turned off the screen, jaw clenched tight.
As one of the leading esports titles, War of Glory was only getting more and more popular. It wasn’t just mainstream—it had even been added to the Olympic lineup. Esports-themed shows were popping up everywhere, and even old celebrities who’d never gamed in their lives were trying to act like “esports pros.” Xu Meng himself had multiple offers for esports-related shows waiting.
He’d thought he could crush Sui Ning completely after Idol Gas Station—but who could’ve predicted Sui Ning would switch careers entirely... and carve out a new path for himself instead.
When exactly had he started playing War of Glory? Back when they were still on good terms, he had never mentioned it! Could there really be such a thing as a “gaming genius” in this world?! Xu Meng couldn’t help tightening his grip on the phone.
…And to make things worse, every single element just happened to overlap perfectly—he’d be feeling disgusted about this for a long time.
When his fan club had thrown tantrums online earlier, he hadn’t stopped them. Now that the trending topics were full of mockery and backlash, it was nothing but karma coming around. But the real issue was status. If it were some senior in the industry—or Pei Siyuan—would he ever have to swallow this kind of humiliation?
Xu Meng’s eyes flickered slightly.
——
As for whatever that entertainment-circle white lotus was thinking—Sui Ning couldn’t care less.
Right now, he just wanted Lin Zhaoxu to shut up.
Lin Zhaoxu: “Baaaby~ my baaaaby~ ooooh~~~ pentakill, my baaaaby~ la la la~”
Sui Ning: “…”
Cheng Su sounded speechless too: “Help.”
Ji Yunyu was even worse—he just typed a question mark in the team chat.
The other four teammates seemed to wake up all at once, spamming the in-game quick-ping system to drop question marks over Lin Zhaoxu’s location on the map.
[PNG_Myerii] signals: Enemy missing.
[PNG_Wind] signals: Enemy missing.
[PNG_Erllit] signals: Danger!
“What? Can’t a brother celebrate a little?” Lin Zhaoxu pouted in mock cuteness, using a squeaky voice. “Feng-bao, you’re amazing!”
It was around the 26-minute mark. PNG had the side lanes pushed out and was setting up mid pressure—a calm phase of the match. But their marksman, who couldn’t stand silence, started causing chaos over voice chat.
Expressionless, Sui Ning said, “Thanks… but I’m still young. I don’t wanna die yet.”
Lin Zhaoxu: “...Huh?”
Ji Yunyu burst out laughing. “He means your singing’s killing him.”
Clearing his jungle, he chuckled, “Seriously, son, stop singing. What’ll we do if our 8–0 mid-lane baby dies of secondhand embarrassment?”
B-baby… Sui Ning blinked slowly, cleared his throat, and said, “…Push mid.”
Lin Zhaoxu: “O~n~ my~ way~ ba~by~”
“…Ref, can you mute our marksman’s mic?”
The referee, trying hard not to laugh, replied, “The—pfft—match continues as normal.”
“Cut it out,” Cheng Su said coldly, voice full of domineering authority as he delivered the most civilized threat imaginable. “Keep this up, and your horse dies.”
Lin Zhaoxu: “Fuck.”
Sui Ning took a deep breath. The only reason the weight of leading felt so heavy was because his so-called “son” kept piling on the nonsense. “Hold skills. We can fight next wave. I’m far ahead in items—look for a pick. Don’t rush, focus on poke first.”
One of Aeria’s most oppressive traits when ahead was her versatility—she could instantly burst down squishies, but also poke safely from range with her Q and disrupt enemies with her E. Her siege pressure was terrifying.
Wei Ye: “Got it.”
——
“PNG’s regrouping mid again, pressuring the inner turret! Mior’s chipping at the tower, AQ’s reaction—seems a bit disorganized!”
The AQ players, startled, scrambled from all directions to defend, completely out of formation.
Qing Ci frowned. “That’s not good for AQ. Their formation’s all wrong right off the bat! Wind’s lurking on the flank, PNG’s vision control is solid—both jungle sides are lit up, all to give Wind room to move!”
Qing Ci continued, “At this point, the gold difference is 7,140. That’s big, but not insurmountable—a decisive teamfight could still turn it all around!”
But even as he said it, a bad premonition crept up.
As a veteran commentator for the league, he’d seen enough matches to know: in a mid-lane deciding teamfight, formation is everything. Frontline in front, backline behind, and your carries protected on both sides—this was ancient wisdom forged by countless comebacks, and it was never to be broken.
Yet AQ had clearly forgotten that ancestral law. Their marksman and support duo on the top side, anxious to defend mid, took the shorter path through the lower jungle instead of circling safely from the high ground.
That route ran straight past red buff.
Chao Mi immediately noticed their positioning. “Miantiao and Zeta taking that path—it’s risky!”
“AQ’s red-side jungle does have vision, but Wind—he’s too cunning!” Chao Mi sucked in a breath. “He’s crouched right in AQ’s blind spot again!”
He couldn’t help exclaiming, “Honestly, I never thought I’d use the word cunning to describe a debut player... but if AQ could see what we’re seeing from the god’s-eye view, they’d probably agree!”
Sui Ning was pressed against the inner wall of the red buff pit, waiting. AQ’s marksman, Miantiao, slowly entered PNG’s vision ward range.
Miantiao wasn’t well-fed and hadn’t built any magic resistance—against an almost fully-equipped Aeria, he was nothing but meat on a chopping block.
Wang Yuyi, controlling the Gunslinger Caitlyn, stuck close to his support, an uneasy feeling pounding in his chest. “Let’s not go this way—Aeria might be lying in wait.”
“There’s vision here,” Lu Yao replied automatically, glancing at the minimap. “It’s fine. I’ll walk ahead to block for you.”
‘You’re just a soft, squishy support—what the hell are you blocking?’ Wang Yuyi silently raised his guard.
Qing Ci: “PNG’s applying pressure on the front! The second tower’s about to fall!”
Chao Mi: “Hommie’s cleared the wave, but his own state isn’t great—70% HP, and there’s no chance to recall now! Wait for Holy Healer to top him up!”
“The marksman and support are rotating over, this position—ohhhhhh!!”
On the left side of the map, a streak of gold and violet light cut through the air.
Lu Yao’s face changed. “—Shit.”
Maybe every marksman who’s died too many times develops that same sixth sense of doom—because when that lethal streak of light suddenly appeared from the fog of war, Wang Yuyi actually felt a twisted sense of relief. Of course it’d be like this.
It was too late to dodge. And it was just a Q skill—a flying star—you couldn’t even tell how far it had traveled. He couldn’t just Flash the moment he saw the skill, right?
He struggled for one last sidestep.
Lu Yao had the same thought. But a healthy marksman was vital for the next teamfight, and as support, he instinctively stepped forward, body-blocking the skill with pure reflex.
Except there was one fatal flaw to this protective instinct—Lu Yao was playing a squishy enchanter support.
Poorer than his marksman. No defensive items. No magic resist. Built entirely for team utility.
—And, tragically, even easier to kill.
-2547.
[PNG_Wind (Stellar Sprite) has slain AQ_Zeta (Holy Healer)!]
[PNG_Wind (Stellar Sprite) is Legendary!]
The brutal falling star pierced straight through the glowing, Holy Healer’s chest in one shot.
“Wooooooahhhh——!!!”
The twenty-five-thousand spectators in the arena froze with eyes wide and lungs locked mid-gasp.
Qing Ci roared again, voice cracking: “Winnnnnnnd——! My! God!! What was that damage?!”
“One Q skill! Zeta got instantly deleted! It looked easier than last-hitting a minion!!”
The broadcast cut straight to Lu Yao—arms wrapped around his head, face full of disbelief.
The commentator gasped for breath. “Zeta’s completely stunned! He never expected that kind of burst! Wind’s positioning was perfect, and AQ’s bot duo had no way of judging that Q’s damage potential!”
Asahi followed up: “Even if they had seen it coming, they wouldn’t have believed they’d get one-shot! Zeta clearly wanted to shield Miantiao from the damage—and honestly, if that had hit Miantiao instead, he’d be either dead or crippled!”
“AQ loses their support before the fight even starts. Their front line’s got no shot—they’re backing off! Giving up the second tower! What’s PNG going to do?”
Chao Mi’s voice surged, “Will they keep pushing?! They could back for Baron, play it safe—but AQ’s frontline is low, and Mior’s taking towers fast!”
“They’re going for the inhibitor push! PNG—are they really going for it? Are they?!”
[Blue Team has destroyed an inhibitor!]
“They gave up the inhibitor!”
“My god, PNG’s frontline pressure is overwhelming! They don’t even need Baron—they’re still pushing forward! AQ’s—Hommie’s in danger!”
[PNG_Cloud (Coldfront Lord) has slain AQ_Hommie (Broken King)!]
Qing Ci’s voice broke, face flushed red: “They can end! They can end! END! END! END!!
“PNG’s decisiveness is incredible—!”
[END! END! END!!]
[AAAAAAHHHHH——!!!]
[WTF?? I took a sip of water during the tower push, set my cup down—and they’re already ending??]
Sui Ning: “Go straight for the Nexus. We can end.”
Following the call, Wei Ye let out a war cry, clicking so fast his mouse nearly broke. “Endendendend!!”
“End the base! End the base—nice!!”
“Nice!!”
Commentator: “Zeta’s respawned—trying for one last engage—but is it in time?! The Nexus HP is down to a sliver!”
As his words fell, everything in the Rift froze. The red Nexus exploded into shards.
[Victory!]
Qing Ci punched the air. “Beautiful! Absolutely exhilarating! PNG played the last two minutes perfectly—bold and brilliant, seizing the chance and finishing in one strike! Congratulations to PNG for taking Game 1, 1–0!”
“That was spectacular! It’s just the first game of a regular-season BO3, but my heart’s still pounding.”
Chao Mi took a deep breath, massaging his chest. “PNG showed incredible discipline and cohesion this match. Their teamfights were absolutely textbook.”
“The key player, of course, was Wind—” The caster paused. “Honestly, I don’t even know how to describe him. His debut has been a shock on every level. The blind predictions, the pentakill, and now this one-shot on Zeta—he’s given us so many highlight moments in just one game.”
“Most of my predictions for PNG today have been completely blown apart,” he admitted, “but there’s one thing I’m sure of.”
The commentator enunciated every word: “—Until Aeria gets reworked, this will probably be her last appearance on stage in Wind’s hands. Treasure it while it lasts.”
Chao Mi stared straight into the camera, eyes blazing. “After tonight, any team that dares leave Aeria open against PNG deserves two words.”
“Strict investigation!”
----------
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