Chapter 1 Glory

Glory!

The two words shone on the electronic screen.

No matter the process, the competition would only lead to one result: victory or defeat.

In this round, victory belonged to Qiao Yifan of Team Happy. A tide of applause immediately erupted in the Xiaoshan stadium.

Song Qiying walked out of the competition booth with regret. The applause filling the arena wasn't for him, but he didn't lower his head. His opponent had performed exceptionally, but he had nothing to be ashamed of.

Perhaps his initial considerations hadn't been thorough enough.

As Song Qiying walked off the stage, he was already reviewing his performance. He couldn't help but recall the scene of Changhe Luori (Long River Setting Sun) losing the initiative after being hit by the collapsing ceiling.

If it were the vice-captain, he wouldn't have overlooked that detail. Song Qiying looked toward someone on the Tyranny team's bench.

He was a Striker, chosen by Tyranny to take over the Desert Dust character after Han Wenqing retired. The team hadn't concealed this at all. Tyranny was just that kind of straightforward team, from top to bottom, in every aspect.

Song Qiying wouldn't refuse this arrangement. He was honored by it, but he wouldn't hide his inner thoughts either. Although his class was Striker and he liked it, he admired their Tyranny vice-captain Zhang Xinjie's style even more.

Careful, meticulous, and without flaws.

This kind of steady and methodical style might not be considered passionate by many, but Song Qiying thought it was cool, perhaps because of his innate personality.

Team Tyranny didn't make any specific demands of him, nor did he deliberately mold himself into Zhang Xinjie's image. However, as he developed according to his preferred style, everyone in Tyranny believed he was like a little Zhang Xinjie.

Song Qiying didn't mind this. He hadn't deliberately imitated, and this was supposed to be his style.

But it wasn't enough!

Reviewing the match, Song Qiying looked for his shortcomings. At this moment, Tyranny's last player, the one to hold the fort, stood up.

Han Wenqing, it could only be Han Wenqing, it had to be Han Wenqing.

He could make appropriate concessions, but if in the crucial playoffs, he didn't even participate in the individual competition, then the Tyranny fans would be very disappointed, and the Tyranny players might feel uneasy.

Ten years as captain, ten years as the mainstay.

In terms of influence on the team, Han Wenqing was definitely second to none. Even his arch-rival Ye Xiu had an unpleasant ending in Excellent Era. Among the rising players, Wang Jiexi was perhaps the closest to him, and his influence in Team Tiny Herb was also at its peak. But compared to Han Wenqing, he was still inferior.

Han Wenqing influenced the entire team with his personal spirit and charisma. Tyranny's current style was undoubtedly due to the fact that their core and captain from the very beginning was a player with this style, which had formed and continued to this day.

But what about Wang Jiexi at Tiny Herb? He changed his style, integrated into the team, and eventually won two championships with the team. In terms of results, his two championships were indeed better than Han Wenqing's one championship, but in terms of influence on the team, he was clearly no match for Han Wenqing.

And now, this ten-year captain stood up from his seat, for who knows how many times, ready to guard the most crucial checkpoint for Tyranny.

The Tyranny die-hard fans who had come from afar seemed to be suddenly ignited and roared. Han Wenqing didn't decline the fans' expectations. He straightened his arm towards the away fans' seating area and extended his fist.

The cheers grew louder. At this moment, Song Qiying had already walked off the stage and was standing in front of Han Wenqing.

Han Wenqing's fist then lowered and swung towards him. Song Qiying immediately understood and straightened his arm.

A fist bump!

"Captain, add oil!" Song Qiying said loudly.

"Mm." Han Wenqing nodded and strode towards the stage.

Tyranny was at a disadvantage. After Qiao Yifan finally defeated Song Qiying, he had lost sixty-one percent of his health, leaving him with thirty-nine percent.

This advantage was quite obvious, but at this moment, as Han Wenqing walked onto the stage, the eyes of the Tyranny die-hard fans in the audience showed no worry. All that was visible was heroism.

There were always victories and defeats in matches, and everyone knew this.

What the Tyranny fans revealed in their eyes wasn't a belief that they would definitely win. Han Wenqing brought them a firm confidence. They firmly believed that as long as this person was there, even if they lost, they wouldn't lose their fighting spirit and confidence. As long as this person was there, they would always only lose the person, not the formation!

Tyranny had never been a team that feared failure. In the early days of the Alliance, they were knocked out of the playoffs by Team Excellent Era three times, and Team Excellent Era and Ye Xiu were called their nemesis and bane. But so what? In the fourth season, on the highest stage of Glory, the finals, they fiercely defeated Excellent Era and vindicated themselves. Older Tyranny fans would never forget that day. That day was the most perfect interpretation of Tyranny's integrity.

Not afraid of failure, always climbing to the peak, Tyranny had walked through these ten years under the leadership of this man. Now, he was leading Tyranny once again to climb that peak, and he was once again standing on the stage.

In the television commentary, Pan Lin was also passionately recounting all of this. His partner Li Yibo was from Tyranny and had experienced that era. He couldn't see the tactical details clearly now, but he wouldn't forget the spirit of Tyranny, because he was also a member of Tyranny, a member who had gone crazy in that season. Listening to Pan Lin's passionate narration, Li Yibo felt his blood boil, and he had the urge to rush onto the stage again, grab the mouse, pick up the keyboard, and fight fiercely!

"Alright, the match is about to begin. Tyranny's ten-year captain Han Wenqing faces Happy's newcomer Qiao Yifan," Pan Lin said.

Although Qiao Yifan had registered in the eighth season, he had only appeared in official matches this season, so when people talked about him, they still referred to him as a newcomer.

The opening was unchanged. They still went straight to the central manor castle. Han Wenqing's courage and decisiveness could almost be seen from his character's movements. Desert Dust advanced so straight, rushing straight ahead.

In front and behind the castle, the same rhythm.

Qiao Yifan still controlled One Inch Ash to enter through the front door, and soon, he arrived at the same place as the previous battle.

"Qiao Yifan still wants to use this place as a battlefield?" Pan Lin said. After watching the previous match, everyone fully understood how comfortable this place was for the Ghostblade to perform. The size of the room and the surrounding house types were all used to the fullest in One Inch Ash's movements.

What is home field advantage?

This is it.

The terrain was utilized to an unparalleled degree.

The Tyranny players sitting on the bench should have seen how formidable this was, and Han Wenqing was no exception. But now, Qiao Yifan still wanted to use this place as a battlefield. Wasn't this a bit of wishful thinking? Seeing his efficient use of this area, would Han Wenqing fulfill his wishes and fight him here?

Uh…

Han Wenqing?

The doubt paused for a moment when it touched this name.

This seemingly irrational decision seemed acceptable if Han Wenqing made it.

Because he had always been like this, knowing that there were tigers in the mountains, he preferred to go to the tiger mountains. For others, it was an irrational move, but he could open up the situation in one fell swoop.

Qiao Yifan set up his formation again in this place. Ordinary players probably wouldn't come, but Han Wenqing might really step in head-on. Qiao Yifan might have calculated this opponent's temperament, which was why he made this wishful thinking plan, right?

So, everyone looked towards Han Wenqing's side. Desert Dust was at the back door of the castle, searching cleanly and neatly. In a short while, he arrived at this place. This time, Qiao Yifan didn't need to chop any doors, so there wouldn't be any sound to alert Han Wenqing. One Inch Ash simply ambushed himself in this room, ready to fight.

Because a wall had collapsed, the two rooms were connected, making it seem much wider. Qiao Yifan didn't know which end Han Wenqing's Desert Dust would break into, so he hid One Inch Ash in the corner, trying to form an ambush in as many directions as possible.

He didn't wait too long. Qiao Yifan heard footsteps.

The moving footsteps didn't try to hide at all, making whatever sound they were supposed to when stepping on something, getting closer and closer.

Bang!

Suddenly, another sound made One Inch Ash, who was leaning against the wall, feel the vibration.

Qiao Yifan wasn't unfamiliar with this sound. In the previous round, Song Qiying had made more than one hundred and sixty sounds like this with his character.

Was Han Wenqing's Desert Dust also punching the wall?

As soon as the thought crossed Qiao Yifan's mind, bang! The sound of the second punch rang out.

Qiao Yifan roughly judged the direction of the sound. Just as he looked over, he heard a bang. The wall he was looking at had a hole broken through it.

Three punches for one hole?

This wasn't because Desert Dust's attack damage was so heaven-defying, but because the wall he was punching was already weak.

After so many battles, all of them had taken place inside the castle, and most of them had taken place on the first floor. The furnishings in the room had long been broken and shattered, and the walls had also been damaged in many places in the process. Han Wenqing had obviously just found a severely damaged spot and broken it with three punches.

Was he venting?

Everyone thought so at first!

But soon, they saw Desert Dust and One Inch Ash looking at each other through the hole.

Seeing One Inch Ash's position, Han Wenqing naturally knew what he was thinking. Would he stubbornly go forward and fight Qiao Yifan in his preferred terrain?

The Snow Pattern in One Inch Ash's hand was already faintly glowing, but Desert Dust glanced at him through the hole and walked away.

Bang bang bang bang, a few more punches. Another hole was punched through the fragile wall, then he shifted positions and punched again…

The sounds came in waves, forming a circle. As Qiao Yifan listened, his face gradually changed.

Song Qiying was only trying to tear down one wall, but Han Wenqing was preparing to tear down this entire castle?