LPL didn't want me? I joined SKT instead!

"Bang!"

As the massive blue crystal on the screen shattered violently and exploded into countless fragments, time seemed to stand still in Summoner's Rift.

"Congratulations to SSG for winning this semi-final with a score of 3-2 and advancing to the final at the Bird's Nest!"

In the commentary booth, Wawa's voice was so hoarse it sounded like sandpaper, and every word seemed to be squeezed out from the depths of her throat.

He tried hard to maintain the dignity expected of a professional commentator, but the tears welling up in his eyes betrayed his inner breakdown.

Miller took off his heavy black-rimmed glasses, lowered his head, and covered his face in anguish with his hands. After a long while, he raised his head again, spoke into the microphone, and said in an almost pleading tone, "You played well, you really played well. RNG boys, you did your best. It's just... it's just that this year might not really belong to us."

Guan Zeyuan took a deep breath, looking at the SSG players embracing and celebrating on the screen, his eyes filled with complex emotions: "This is the cruelty of esports. There are no ifs, no do-overs. SSG showed us what absolute discipline is, what a perfect understanding of the patch is. Ruler's Xayah, Ambition's Gragas, Crown's Galio... they were like a precisely operating machine, crushing all of RNG's attacks."

The Oriental Sports Center was deathly silent.

Tens of thousands of fans wearing RNG support jerseys stared blankly at the huge main screen in the center of the stadium, like statues whose souls had been drained.

One second they were cheering wildly for Uzi's incredible kiting skills, anticipating a "miracle." Now, everything has come to an abrupt end.

There were no miracles. Only cold, hard data and harsh reality.

Someone in a corner of the audience let out a suppressed sob.

That sob acted as a fuse, instantly igniting the suppressed emotions throughout the venue. Countless glow sticks slid helplessly to the ground, and countless young faces were streaked with tears. The "golden rain" that once symbolized supreme glory ultimately did not fall in the Shanghai night sky; instead, it was replaced by a sea of ​​bitter tears from LPL fans.

The camera cuts back to the competition area.

Inside RNG's soundproof booth, the air pressure was so low it was suffocating.

Mlxg stared intently at the results panel on the screen, his hands gripping his hair tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force. His body trembled slightly, a tremor mixed with self-reproach, resentment, and anger.

"My...that kick, if I could have punished him, if I could have kicked Xia back..." Xiangguo's voice choked up, and he buried his head deeply in front of the keyboard like a child who had done something wrong.

"It's not your fault, Liu Shiyu." Xiaohu patted Xiangguo on the shoulder, but his own voice was trembling. This "Tiger Emperor," who once dominated the LPL, now had a terrifyingly empty look in his eyes. He looked at his Malzahar stats, recalling that flash-ultimate combo that was perfectly dodged by Xayah's ultimate, and a deep sense of powerlessness welled up in his heart.

Letme silently packed up his peripherals without saying a word. Ming, on the other hand, stared blankly at Uzi beside him, his eyes red.

Uzi remained in that slumped position.

His chest heaved violently, like a fish thrown ashore, greedily inhaling the air. His right hand was still on the mouse, his index and middle fingers spasming uncontrollably from prolonged, intense clicking.

Sweat soaked through his team uniform, and his face was flushed with a sickly redness.

At that moment, Jian Zihao's mind went blank.

There was no anger, no sadness, only an indescribable emptiness.

He recalled the monotonous training that lasted more than 15 hours a day, 365 days a year; he remembered his arms and back covered in plasters due to severe overuse injuries; and he remembered the countless fans shouting "See you at the Bird's Nest" at the airport before he set off.

He really wanted to win.

He desired the Summoner's Cup, the symbol of the highest honor, more than anyone else.

For this goal, he can endure all pain and sacrifice all his rest time.

In this best-of-five series, he pushed himself to the limit, calculating every basic attack and every trap of the female police officer to the extreme.

But why?

Why am I the one who falls down again?

"Puppy..." Ming called softly, her voice trembling with tears.

Uzi finally came to his senses. He slowly turned his head, looking at his brothers who had fought alongside him, and at the same despair on their faces.

He tugged at the corners of his mouth, trying to force a comforting smile, but the smile looked worse than a grimace.

"It's okay...we played pretty well." Uzi's voice was terribly hoarse. "We're just not good enough, we...we admit defeat."

I accept my fate.

These two words, spoken by the arrogant and mad dog, carried an immense weight.

Just then, the door to the soundproof booth was pushed open.

Brother Feng walked in.

The usually composed head coach of RNG also had red eyes at this moment.

He didn't say anything, but walked up and patted each of his teammates on the shoulder. Finally, he walked to Uzi and hugged him tightly.

"You've worked hard, I'm proud. It's not your fault, it's my poor drafting." Feng's voice trembled slightly.

Uzi didn't speak, but simply closed his eyes. Two lines of tears finally slid down his cheeks and dripped onto his black jersey with the RNG logo.

Meanwhile, inside SKT's spectator room.

The atmosphere was equally somber, but not because of sadness, but because of a sense of awe at the impending storm.

On the big screen, the five SSG members had taken off their headphones and were hugging each other tightly.

The usually icy face of Sect Leader An was now beaming with ecstatic joy.

"SSG... has evolved." Faker crossed his arms in front of his chest, a rare sharpness flashing in his calm eyes.

"Perfect vision control, perfect minion wave management, and... absolutely ruthless team fight execution." Wolf gasped as he quickly jotted down notes in his notebook. "RNG actually didn't play badly; Uzi's individual skill even caused them a lot of trouble. But SSG was like a sponge, absorbing all of RNG's ferocious attacks and then using suffocating macro play to slowly strangle RNG."

Xiao Yan stood up, looked at the SKT team, and finally his gaze fell on Peanut.

"Wanghu, you just thought Uzi was a pity, right?"

Peanut nodded, a hint of sympathy in his eyes: "His Caitlyn really tried her best. That kind of desperate kiting and finding the right positioning—no other AD carry could have done it better than you. But he just couldn't kill Galio, and he couldn't even touch Xayah."