Chapter 36 Part 2

“But it still depends on what the higher-ups decide,” Liu Ying added. “And you’ve got to beat Jiu Ke yourself, plus hold off any other trial trainees gunning for promotion before the match.”

Yun Qi knew all that. Why risk putting him in over someone stronger? Especially in a massive event like an international tournament. They wouldn’t send out a rando just to embarrass themselves.

Already brimming with motivation, Yun Qi felt even more driven now. He sat there lost in thought through the meal. As it wound down, he realized Yu Jin still hadn’t shown. “Captain Yu isn’t eating?”

Liu Ying explained, “My brother’s got a ton on his plate. He eats whenever he wants. Don’t worry about it.”

Yun Qi just said “oh” and let it drop.

After lunch, he headed back to the training room with Liu Ying.

The others had gone for a nap. Liu Ying told him he could rest too—better to be sharp for the afternoon grind. Yun Qi passed. He didn’t feel tired at all.

Liu Ying carried the weight of his Little E God title, so the pressure got to him too. He stayed in the training room after eating, grinding practice. Their seats were spaced out, so he had to raise his voice to chat.

“What’s your peak score?” Liu Ying asked. He was slouched in his chair with a lumbar pillow, looking every bit the laid-back pro.

“2815. Didn’t play much peak yesterday, and I dropped a game.”

“That high? You’ve only been here two weeks.”

“The account was already at 1600 when I took it over. I queue peak a ton usually.”

Talk of peak matches had Liu Ying venting. “I’m hard-stuck. Bouncing between 2800 and 2900. Can’t climb for shit. Every game’s full of one-trick ponies.”

“You probably match pros all the time, huh?”

“Business as usual. Yesterday I queued into a few retired big shots.” Liu Ying glanced down at his phone, tapping to accept a game invite from a friend.

“Your jungling’s already elite,” Yun Qi said. It wasn’t flattery—just facts. Liu Ying’s mechanics and game sense were top-shelf.

Liu Ying didn’t seem convinced.

“Nah, nowhere near my brother. Sometimes I feel like I’ve plateaued. I’ve duoed offline with a bunch of folks and stomped them, but I’ve never taken a single game off him.” He nodded hard for emphasis, his tone pure frustration. “Brother Jin’s a monster. Feels like he could dust me even if he hadn’t touched a keyboard in two years. I’m tapped out.”

“Didn’t he train you?”

“Yeah, but the apprentice outshining the master? Not once. Let’s see.” Liu Ying stared at the ceiling. “We’ve played six times total? Six different champs, zero wins. Can’t beat him jungle, can’t beat him mid. Same hands, same brain. My map awareness is sharp, reactions on point. He’s a year older, so I should be peaking right now. Plus he spent two years abroad recovering, and I still get smoked.”

Yun Qi’s hands froze on his keyboard. “Recovering?”

Liu Ying leaned back, propping his feet on the footrest under his desk and jiggling his leg. “Yeah, some overseas doc he consulted. Holed up in Berlin for two years.”

Yun Qi had heard whispers about Yu Jin’s injury back in the other dorm. No one could give him the real story. He’d asked Yu Jin directly, and the guy had denied it. Now Liu Ying’s casual drop made it sound like someone wasn’t telling the truth.

“What kind of illness?” Yun Qi’s voice came out shaky.

Liu Ying didn’t pick up on it. He was glued to his screen, game client queuing. “Nothing serious. Insomnia. Local docs didn’t cut it for a while, so he saw a shrink. They told him to change scenery. We were in Berlin for a tournament anyway, so he stayed put. He’s good now, I think.”

Two whole years? And that was nothing serious?

Yu Jin had remained in Berlin right up until the end of the International Tournament that year. He never even collected the champion’s trophy. The moment the matches wrapped up, he vanished. Soon after, his team announced that Yu Jin would no longer take part in any competitions going forward. They cited an injury as the reason but refused to specify what kind, and they offered no word on whether he’d return once he recovered. Fans were heartbroken, wailing in despair. Rumors flew wild—speculation about shady capital deals, conspiracy theories claiming foreign servers had bought him out. You name it. That year, he reigned at the absolute peak of esports. Every move he made sent shockwaves through the scene, and a bombshell like quitting competitions? That was hurricane-level drama.

“That… will he ever compete again?” Yun Qi asked. “Like next month’s Korean Server matches.”

“He will,” Liu Ying said without a second’s hesitation. “My bro’s way too strong not to. Besides, the Esports Association’s been hounding him. These past two years without him, it’s been Germany-France owning the International Tournament, right? The Chinese Division doesn’t have anyone stronger on deck. They need him for the national team—honor of the country and all that. Just for that, my bro’s definitely coming back.”

During Yu Jin’s two-year hiatus, the Chinese National Team hadn’t sniffed an esports championship trophy. KRO, the top Esports Team in the country, had to clear endless hurdles just to represent China on foreign servers. No other domestic squad came close to qualifying, so up until this year, KRO had sat out all domestic events. The Esports Association had commandeered them as the dedicated foreign server squad.

Only after Yu Jin’s retirement announcement two years back—which shut KRO out of international contention—did the Association greenlight their return to domestic play. Partly to gauge KRO’s strength without him, partly to hunt for a superior team to send abroad. The verdict? KRO sans Yu Jin was still undisputed national champions. But without him, they couldn’t crack the global top spot. Facts were facts.

What a mess.

Liu Ying was already a beast in his own right, yet he was utterly helpless against Yu Jin. It drove home just how monstrous Yu Jin’s skill really was. Three years ago might’ve been his absolute peak, but even now, in his steady-state groove, no one could touch him.

Yu Jin was a freak of nature—Liu Ying had nailed it. In the Esports Circle, guys like him popped up once a decade, tops.

Put it in plain terms: while everyone else was still mastering one plus one, he was crafting problems for math prodigies. That kind of insurmountable talent gap? All you could do was sigh and shake your head in awe.

Yun Qi and Liu Ying talked for ages, most of it orbiting Yu Jin. He wanted the scoop on Yu Jin’s life over the past two years. As the kid Yu Jin had mentored, Liu Ying was equal parts awestruck by his big bro’s insane talent and gutted for his master. “It’s all that clueless ex’s fault,” Liu Ying spat bitterly. “If not for him, I can’t even imagine the fame and fortune my bro would’ve racked up by now.”

“Dumping my bro right before the Grand Tournament? Total scumbag move!”

“No clue if he regrets it now. Bro’s achievements? One of a kind, now and forever—no second Eidis will ever come along. That’s why I’m swearing off dating while I’m pro. Women are straight-up bad news!”

Yet Yun Qi—the very “bad news” Liu Ying was railing against—had wounded his idol and led him to hate the wrong person entirely. Someday, Liu Ying might realize he’d been barking up the wrong tree, and just how wrongheaded that “women are bad news” line truly was. Truth was, men could be ruthless far more often than women. The “bad influence” on Yu Jin that Liu Ying despised so much? He was sitting just a short distance away.

Yun Qi curled his fingers tight, his heart a storm of mixed feelings.

By afternoon, the Training Room was packed. Jiu Ke barely got started before ditching for a stream, grumbling all the way—no takers to cover for him. Nobody wanted the spotlight. Even the handsome Ziwu was nose-deep in ranked Peak mode, his intense focus making it impossible for Yun Qi to square with those steamy rumors.

Did Ziwu like guys?

Was he still trading flirty texts with the Trial Trainee?

Looked nothing like it.

But Yun Qi, fresh off SK, knew better than to judge a book by its cover.

He buckled down and threw himself into training.

A little after three, Yu Jin showed up in the Training Room.

He scowled the second he walked in, his voice sharp with irritation. “Who the hell was smoking in here again?”

His eyes raked over the room. Dead silence. A few guys awkwardly cracked the windows. Yu Jin let it slide. He headed straight to the back, plopping down in a seat galaxies away from Yun Qi. Polar opposites, one at each end.

Yun Qi stole a glance at him, their earlier chat with Liu Ying flashing through his mind. The frantic clatter of keyboards buried his tangled emotions.

Yu Jin didn’t fire up his PC right away after sitting. Liu Ying studied his face. “Just roll out of bed?”

Yu Jin cradled his head in his hand. “Yeah.”

Liu Ying held his headset to his ear and said, “I saw you got up pretty early this morning. No business meetings today? What’re you up so early for?”

Yu Jin replied with dead seriousness, “Sleepwalking.”

Liu Ying stared blankly for a moment, not quite getting it.

His hero had just respawned, so he quickly adjusted his headset and dove back into the game.

After booting up his computer, Yu Jin logged into WeChat and the training software. He glanced at the group notifications before sending a message to Yun Qi.

【Come over.】

Yun Qi got the message right in the heat of a Peak Match. He didn’t even clear the minion wave in front of him before pulling up the chat and tapping out a quick reply.

【Not done yet.】

A moment later, the response came back.

【Come after you finish.】

【Okay.】

Yun Qi buckled down and finished the game. It was another rough matchup—he had to bide his time for a comeback from behind. It dragged on a bit, but Yu Jin had told him to wrap it up first, so however long it took should be fine.

Once the Peak Match ended, Yun Qi skipped the results screen entirely, dropped everything, and headed straight over.

The others watched him make a beeline for Yu Jin, their eyes tracking him for a second before they turned back to their own work.

Yun Qi stood beside him like a kid caught red-handed, hands clasped behind his back. Yu Jin was scrolling through some hot news topic; it took Yun Qi a moment to realize it was that video from before he’d left SK—the one exposing Lang Xian. Yun Qi watched Yu Jin’s face intently, not daring to interrupt, just waiting in silence.

After a while, Yu Jin closed the window and asked out of the blue, “Which account are you using right now?”

Yun Qi answered honestly. “The one Brother Wen gave me when I first got here.”

“What about your old one?”

Yun Qi explained, “I don’t want to use that anymore.”

Yun Qi had no idea why he was asking.

A moment later, Yu Jin said, “Grab a chair and sit down.”

Yun Qi glanced around and pulled over Jiu Ke’s chair from nearby. Jiu Ke was in the middle of a stream, but it was close by, so Yun Qi borrowed it for now.

He sat a polite distance away from the screen, obedient as could be. Yu Jin started to say something, then glanced at the gap between them. Without a second thought, he grabbed the chair’s arm and yanked Yun Qi right up next to him. He didn’t breathe a word about the business at hand—it all felt perfectly natural.

Yun Qi’s heart raced.

“You’ve been here two days already. How come you haven’t joined the group chat?” Yu Jin asked. “We post all the announcements there.”

Yun Qi hesitated. “…I didn’t know.”