[Your special notification: ‘WT-Seven’ is now live—come check it out!]
It had been ages since Seven last streamed. Chi Zhan had assumed he wouldn’t be broadcasting anytime soon due to the upcoming competition, and had been checking out a few other popular streamers in the esports zone. But after watching Seven play, everyone else felt like… something was missing.
Like chicken ribs—bland to eat, yet a waste to throw away.
Chi Zhan set up a phone stand and tapped into the stream, but the app froze and kicked him out due to the high volume of traffic. He had to refresh and re-enter.
As soon as he got back in, the chat froze too.
He hadn’t tuned in for a while and had lost his top fan status.
He wanted to clear the screen to read better, but he’d recently spent quite a bit on gifts and was feeling the pinch. Plus, since Seven knew that CHI was his account, Chi Zhan felt a little embarrassed to keep showering him with gifts.
He’d come off like an obsessed fan.
As always, the stream only showed a pair of hands—long, slender fingers tapping crisply on a jet-black keyboard. It was oddly satisfying to watch. The comment section was already exploding:
[Seven, you’re finally back!!]
[Granny, your squat-tier esports streamer just updated~!]
[Wait a sec—Seven’s playing a little crazy today. What’s going on? Is it the pressure from the upcoming match?]
[No joke, I’ve never seen Seven this wild. He’s doing insane combos with a brand-new character. The other team’s gotta be freaking out!]
[He’s unhinged but I LOVE IT. Seven, do it again! A billion more times!!]
Chi Zhan had never paid much attention to keyboards before, but after receiving Seven’s gift, he couldn’t help but glance more carefully—and then noticed something.
There was a cat-head symbol on Seven’s keyboard too. While his own was a white cat-head, Seven’s was black, subtly embedded into the dark keyboard—easy to miss if you weren’t looking.
Come to think of it, Seven often used the same cat-head emojis too.
Cold on the surface, but secretly cute.
Chi Zhan split his attention between drafting his proposal and glancing at the phone screen. But after a few more looks, he had to admit—the chat was right.
Seven was acting kind of crazy today.
He was using a newly released, high-difficulty character—a jungler assassin. The tricky part of this assassin was that activating any skill would cause the character to bleed out continuously. He could only heal by applying consecutive true damage to enemies or securing a kill.
Assassin characters already had low HP, so with the added drawback of bleeding during skill use, a single misstep could kill them before they even reached the enemy. If the opponent backed off quickly enough, the assassin would die without a fight. No wonder players nicknamed it a “kamikaze character.”
Most people had only tested it when it first came out. The constant HP drain was a massive turn-off for players who craved stability, and the skill ceiling was too high for casuals. As a result, almost no one used it.
Chi Zhan had tried it once when it dropped. In theory, it could dish out insane damage—but that was already a tall hurdle that filtered out 99% of the player base.
But Seven? He took that hard-mode character and charged straight into the enemy safe zone. His health bar dropped like a rock, so fast you’d think he’d collapse any second.
Apparently, the opposing team thought the same. Even with active skills, there was no way he could kill anyone. He was bleeding out even faster thanks to those very skills. They just stood in place—taunting him, certain they could get a free kill without lifting a finger.
The next second, Seven’s character blinked right in front of them.
At death’s door, he activated his skill. The dual blades shimmered with a ghostly blue glint. He slashed—and instantly began recovering HP.
The enemy froze in disbelief, scrambling to retaliate and calling reinforcements. One-on-one not enough? Then make it two. Or three.
But before they could react, they were already dead. Seven’s HP bar shot up again. Another skill—he lunged into a bush and took down another enemy.
He turned around, reactivated his skill, and stormed the enemy’s base once more, blood level dipping to a terrifying low. Yet he didn’t hesitate, slicing down their Support unit on the spot.
Leaving the safe zone cost him another chunk of HP, and his skills were on cooldown. No way to regenerate unless he went back. Most players would’ve ducked into the bush to hide.
Seven didn’t.
He stood just one step outside the enemy’s safe zone. Bold as a phantom thief under the moonlight, silently declaring:
I’m here.
The top lane was in complete shambles. The two remaining enemies rushed to help—one a Warrior, the other a Tank. Both had thick health bars, even in a direct fight, they were no easy kill.
Chi Zhan paused his typing, now completely focused on the screen, holding his breath for Seven.
Seven had always been a flashy player, but never like this. Every step was a tightrope walk between life and death. Chi Zhan didn’t dare look away for even a second, afraid to miss a single moment of brilliance.
Finally, Seven slipped into a bush. His HP had dropped below 10%—any basic attack could finish him off.
The chat exploded, begging him to retreat and heal. The tension from that sliver of health was driving everyone mad.
But Chi Zhan had a strange feeling.
Seven wouldn’t run.
Sure enough, there was no recall animation. He just stood there, waiting. He even got bitten by a stray jungle creep—now he was down to just 5% health.
Practically a walking corpse.
The enemy Warrior stepped forward, seemingly about to enter the bush.
In that instant, Seven’s character sprang out, skill activated. The health bar hit zero—
No! He landed the skill on the Warrior, clawing back a sliver of HP—barely anything, a drop in the bucket. But it cut the Warrior’s HP in half.
Another enemy tried to flank from the opposite side. Seven weaved through their attacks, dodging every single basic strike with surgical precision.
Every step Seven took was like dancing on the razor’s edge of death. No one could pull this off without perfect, real-time calculations. Not even a moment to pause—while everyone else sat stunned, he completed a flawless, jaw-dropping pentakill.
