# Chapter 128
Shi Luo stood frozen in place.
He remembered Yu Sui once telling him that the account he was currently using had been registered when Yu Sui was fifteen. Back then he was a minor, so he'd used his father's identity information to register. After that, he'd fought countless battles alongside Yu Sui across the years—countless exclusive titles and skins accumulated on that account alone, never mind that it was an account through which Yu Sui had won countless major championships...
Shi Luo wasn't afraid of battle, nor did he think his team would definitely lose to Holy Sword, but instinctively he said, "That account can't be played like this! That's..."
"Hush..."
Yu Sui, standing at the very front, turned back and made a shushing gesture toward Shi Luo.
Yu Sui smiled at Shi Luo, his eyes gleaming with light.
The backstage host's rehearsal was too loud, and there were so many people between Yu Sui and Shi Luo—he couldn't hear a word Yu Sui was saying.
But Shi Luo could read his lips.
Yu Sui was saying: Watch, bro, get revenge for you.
Shi Luo's throat instantly tightened.
In that dazed moment, Shi Luo felt like he was seeing the short-haired Yu Sui from three years ago.
The delete-account-battle format was something Shi Luo had taught Yu Sui back when he was streaming at an internet cafe.
At that time, Yu Sui was already a professional player who had been in the scene for years—he couldn't quite understand the behavior. He knew better than anyone how important an account was to a professional player.
Yu Sui had even told Shi Luo at the time that this was going too far.
What grudge could possibly be worth gambling your account on?
Back then, Yu Sui had personally guided Shi Luo into the industry, teaching him nothing but the conduct befitting a proper professional player. Later, even though the person who had brought him into the scene was gone, Shi Luo still followed in Whisper's footsteps, never straying, walking the path of a professional player without ever reverting to such wild tactics again.
But Yu Sui himself had made an exception this time.
Three years had passed. It wasn't only Shi Luo who had been influenced.
Yu Sui stood in the backstage corridor gazing at the distant lights and smiled slightly.
It was the first time Yu Sui had learned about delete-account battles and thought that there was no person, no situation, worth pushing himself to that point.
Through all the trials that followed, Yu Sui had once thought, after weathering so many storms, nothing could make him compete with someone over petty grievances on a whim.
But now there was.
He had competed for so many years, entered Worlds so many times—he should have been able to take everything with equanimity, indifferent to success or failure. Yet suddenly, he felt the excitement and fighting spirit of his first Worlds appearance.
Yu Sui had originally just wanted to win.
But now he wanted to crush them beneath his feet.
The kind of win where he'd make them delete their account after the match.
After the rehearsal ended, Zhou Huo immediately compiled everything that had happened at the venue that day and posted it—on Weibo for domestic audiences and on Twitter for international ones. The China Regional League coordinator immediately contacted this year's Worlds organizers and issued a warning.
But since it was player behavior, there was no way to hold Holy Sword Club accountable. The game developers were also displeased with Holy Sword's string of dirty tricks, but Holy Sword had been too slick about it—staying within the letter of the rules the entire time, technically committing no substantive violations. In the end, the light sign incident could only result in the tournament organizers being held responsible and fined.
This outcome naturally didn't satisfy the China Region players. The online war of words escalated further. They didn't want the tournament organizers to be punished—they wanted Holy Sword to pay the price. The league's official accounts were bombarded all night, but they had no power to act, unable to make a statement.
The home region was in an uproar. Especially Free's fans—they were practically ready to eat Holy Sword alive. After reviewing the final practice match that night, Yu Sui refreshed Twitter and said to Zhou Huo, "What's the problem? Just post a Weibo and tell the fans we're doing a delete-account battle against Holy Sword tomorrow."
Yu Sui said, "The fans definitely won't be angry once they know."
"Uh..." Zhou Huo carefully reminded him, "On Holy Sword's side, even though their manager hinted at it, their official account hasn't mentioned your delete-account battle. It looks like they don't want to go public. You... you know what I mean, right?"
"I know." Yu Sui put away his phone. "They're afraid that if they lose, it'll be too embarrassing for everyone to know about this. They're thinking they'll go public after they win."
Zhou Huo nodded. Actually, Zhou Huo didn't want to go public either. Up to this point, no one could know the result of tomorrow's match—what if they lost? Zhou Huo didn't want Yu Sui to bear such massive public pressure.
Yu Sui said, "I'm not afraid."
"Winning the match, winning it my way... that's the only thing I can do for our fans." Yu Sui's tone was calm. "I'm not a player who's been particularly good to my fans, but I'm not so lacking in responsibility either. I'm not going to let my fans watch a match feeling憋憋屈屈."
Zhou Huo choked. He looked at everyone—the other four players all nodded in agreement.
Zhou Huo gritted his teeth and nodded. "Fine. You're all dismissed. Go rest. See you tomorrow."
The four players returned to their own rooms to rest. Zhou Huo drafted his Weibo and clicked send in the early morning hours.
Zhou Huo's copy was always professional. The opening line read: When existing rules cannot punish those with ulterior motives, our players will defend their dignity in their own way.
The next day, the quarterfinals officially began.
The four Free players, wearing their Worlds-dedicated team uniforms, arrived at the competition venue on time.
To avoid seeing those eye-grating light signs again, Zhou Huo had originally planned to have them bypass the outside area and enter through a private passage. The players refused, finding it too much trouble. Old Qiao's arrangement had been right after all—their players all had nerves of steel. Even if they occasionally got provoked by idiots, they wouldn't be provoked by idiots a second time. The most disgusting part was already over; they wouldn't let it affect their emotions again today. Besides, the league officials had already warned the tournament organizers, who promised to monitor the event fully and promptly remove any audience members holding insulting signs.
Since no one cared, Zhou Huo didn't push the issue. Free entered normally, but this time as they passed through the front area, everyone was still drawn to the light signs filling the venue.
After the players got out of the vehicle, to enter the backstage area, they had to pass through a section of the VIP stands.
The stand area offered an excellent view—the entire arena was visible at a glance.
The players had also arrived two hours early. This quarterfinal was being called the match of the century—tickets were like gold dust, and the venue was already packed with spectators.
Old Qiao stared in amazement. "...This... this isn't supposed to be Europe's home territory, how the hell did they manage this..."
Zhou Huo was also stunned. "How is this... it feels like it's our own home game."
Throughout every section of the massive arena, wherever their eyes could reach, there were Chinese character light signs everywhere.
Many of the signs had clearly been hastily made, quite rough in craftsmanship, but they made up for it in sheer size—even the ones in the farthest upper deck area could be faintly made out.
The fans and players didn't know when Free's players would be arriving, so they had simply held up their massive signs and waited.
The hastily made signs had text that looked crooked and uneven. Many of them weren't even light signs anymore—they were practically banners. The Free players stood in place, straining to make out the words—
**[Whisper, don't look at their signs, look at ours!]**
**[Free NB, Free First]**
**[Whisper, Forever the Best Medic in the China Region]**
**[Twin Stars, Fighting!]**
**[Free All Members are Awesome!]**
**[Welcome Home to the Best Trio from the Entire Region, New Team Fighting!]**
**[I don't even know what to write but my sign is definitely the biggest in the whole venue! Free is Chosen First!]**
**[Free is Awesome! Is this display big enough for you?!]**
**[With Whisper Here! Evil's First Worlds We Aren't Nervous!!]**
**[Shi Zi, Yu Trash Bag is fighting a delete-account battle for you—give him a title after you win the match, okay?!]**
**[Chen Huo Fighting!!]**
**[Puppy look at me—after we win the quarterfinals I'll go live and donate until I'm the top gifter!]**
**[Whisper, Sorry!]**
**[Yu God Go!! If we lose the whole Chinese player base will delete accounts with you!]**
**[Sorry for saying this so late—Whisper, Chen Huo, Puppy, Welcome Home.]**
**[Can Free See This? If You Can, Rest Assured and Play Your Game! If You Win We'll Celebrate Wildly, If You Lose We'll Carry This Round!!]**
"Say..." Zhou Huo gripped the railing of the stands, his voice strained. "We... we agreed everyone here was a villain, don't cry, you're about to go into a match, what if someone sees you cried it'll be so embarrassing, really..."
Zhou Huo lowered his head. Tears traced down his cheeks. He couldn't speak for the choking sobs.
When he had posted the Weibo yesterday, Zhou Huo's heart had been through the wringer.
He had worried that trolls would seize the opportunity to attack the club. He had worried that Yu Sui's haters would pile on. He had worried that fans wouldn't understand how much pressure the players had carried this entire year, and would still flame Whisper for being immature.
Less than a year ago, when the team had just been formed, the entire club had been flayed by the haters.
Zhou Huo had watched how everyone had gotten through that year. The club's official account's first post had been made by Zhou Huo.
He remembered vividly how viciously the haters had cursed.
He remembered vividly how the four players had consistently said it was fine, with that serene, indifferent tone.
But they were all human, all young people in their twenties—who could truly be completely indifferent, truly happy to be cursed at every day by haters?
They hadn't done anything wrong.
They hadn't done anything wrong.
After the misunderstandings were cleared up, Free's reputation improved a lot. But whenever there was even the slightest incident, they still had to endure being bombarded by haters.
Over time, Zhou Huo, Old Qiao, and everyone at the club had been influenced by the players and gradually learned to accept it.
This is esports—isn't being flamed just part of normal life?
But occasionally, he also wanted to genuinely speak up for these young men. He wanted them to have some backing behind them as they marched into battle.
Before posting the announcement yesterday, Zhou Huo had actually wanted to tell Yu Sui: I know you're trying to protect the region's players and your fans, but others might not appreciate it.
Zhou Huo was very glad now that he hadn't stopped him.
Before entering the backstage area, without anyone reminding them, the players instinctively turned around one after another.
It had been too long, too long, too long since they had seen the lights that belonged to them filling a venue. Even seasoned battlefield veterans, they felt somewhat unaccustomed.
The sweat and tears shed in solitude, the unsaid fervor in their hearts—three years later.
The people outside had felt it after all.