If he mistimed it—even by 0.01 seconds—the passive wouldn’t have triggered.
Tao Ran was stunned.
“Chi-Chi, how do you know that?!”
Most players never bother to read character descriptions in detail. They skim the basics or figure things out through trial and error. Beyond their usual mains, they rarely know much about other characters—especially obscure ones like this.
After all, this kind of ultra-high-difficulty passive… most players would never pull it off in their entire lives. Naturally, it was overlooked.
Chi Zhan looked momentarily dazed. Tao Ran had to call him several times before he snapped out of it, blinking in confusion.
“I… I’m not sure. Maybe I read it somewhere before.”
The words had slipped out of his mouth without conscious thought. And the moment he said them, a strange feeling crept over him.
He had never played the High Paladin. He’d never even seen anyone else use him in a match. As for the skill descriptions, he knew nothing. So why… did he know about that passive?
But the more he tried to trace the memory, the more elusive it became—like trying to find the end of a tangled ball of yarn. No matter how he pulled, he couldn’t find the thread that led back.
As for the match, SY’s defeat was now a foregone conclusion.
After such a devastating blow, the ferocity they’d shown at the start was gone. Especially the two who’d tried to ambush Seven—they seemed deflated, their plays riddled with errors. WT secured the win with a clean 2-1 victory.
To the audience, this match was a perfect blend of technical skill and entertainment. Even the haters who had shown up hoping to roast Seven into oblivion were left speechless. With his performance today, Seven had proven he was still the exceptional mid-laner who had once led WT to the national championship.
The host announced, “Everyone can relax now—we’ll be moving into the fan interaction segment! Don’t lose your number slips; we’ll be drawing them at random for a chance to speak with the players!”
Before entering the venue, fans had been asked to predict the winner. Those who chose SY received red number cards; those who chose WT got blue ones.
Both Chi Zhan and Tao Ran had picked WT and drawn random blue slips. Tao Ran got 47, and Chi Zhan held number 82.
SY’s players were up first. Numbers flashed on the screen in a rotating draw. Fans who were selected could ask questions, share words of encouragement, or even join the players onstage for a handshake or hug.
Chi Zhan, for his part, had zero interest in such segments. He just wanted to quietly enjoy the match. But every fan who got chosen looked thrilled beyond belief, faces glowing with excitement.
Then it was WT’s turn. Chi Zhan hadn’t even considered the possibility of getting picked—there were over 300 people rooting for WT. He figured he’d be nothing more than statistical filler.
Still, Chu Xingxiao hadn’t shown up. His seat remained empty the entire time. During the drawing, Chi Zhan quietly checked his phone. The message list was empty. No word from Chu Xingxiao.
A hint of worry flickered through his mind. It had been so long. What if something had happened?
“And our lucky fan is…”
The number on the screen froze.
“Chi-Chi!” Tao Ran grabbed his sleeve, more excited than if he’d won himself. “You got picked! Go, go!”
Chi Zhan stared, stunned, at the massive number 82 glowing on the big screen.
“……?”
Why was it that whenever it involved Seven, his luck always turned absurdly good?
A one-in-three-hundred chance… and he still got picked.
His prize was the “interaction reward”—he’d get to go onstage and hug a player of his choice. As his face appeared on the screen, the entire room looked at him with envy.
“Go, go!” Tao Ran practically shoved him. “A hug! Aaaaaah!”
Chi Zhan walked down the aisle, calm as ever.
Of course he was. No matter the setting, Secretary Chi always maintained his signature composure.
Even now, with excitement bubbling inside, his expression betrayed none of it.
The host grinned.
“Wow, what a handsome winner! Is there anything you’d like to say to WT? Or to one of the players in particular?”
Chi Zhan took the mic, paused thoughtfully, then said,
“In my eyes, you’re already the champions.”
Chen Che’s eyes grew misty.
The host, quick to pick up the mood, smiled.
“Looks like you have a lot of faith in WT. I’m sure they won’t let you down. Now, you can choose one player to hug.”
Chen Che gazed at Chi Zhan with hopeful eyes.
He knew, of course, that he wouldn’t be picked. Not with Qi-ge standing right there. What chance did anyone else have when Secretary Chi was clearly Qi Song’s number one fan?
Then he heard Chi Zhan say:
“Can I choose Chen Che?”
For a moment, Chen Che was overwhelmed with joy. He couldn’t believe it—Secretary Chi actually picked him!
Him! Chen Che! Finally beating Qi-ge at something! Mwahahaha!
He perked right up, beaming as he opened his arms wide and pulled Chi Zhan into a massive bear hug.
But soon after, he felt a chill crawl down his spine… He glanced behind him. No one was looking.
Except Qi Song.
He stood silently to the side, gaze fixed on Secretary Chi. A few seconds later, he lowered his eyes, no longer looking at anyone at all.
The host was visibly surprised. Even though there was only one slot for interaction, nearly every fan would choose Seven if given the chance. Yet this fan had chosen Chen Che instead. It defied all expectations.
With a curious smile, the host asked, “Mind telling us why you chose Chen Che? Is he your favorite among WT’s five players?”
It was clearly a trap of a question.
But Chi Zhan had never been one to fall for traps. He smiled coolly and said,
“I like all five of them. I chose him because… he was standing closest.”
Flawless.
Chi Zhan returned to his seat. He’d been the last fan interaction of the day. Afterward, the host wrapped up with a match summary and a preview for the next event before dismissing the crowd.
