The competition wasn’t over yet. SUG Club still had to compete with another unfortunate team for the last ticket to the IOI World Championship, but for the audience at the venue, they truly couldn’t take it anymore.

It was too brutal!

They had already watched three BO5s in a single day, and all of them went the full distance. Each game lasted between 35 to 50 minutes. Even the most exciting matches would become nauseating after so much.

Moreover, the first seed had already been decided. Although the upcoming BO5 would determine the last World Championship spot, its excitement level definitely couldn’t compare to the match for the first seed.

It was also getting late, and Shanghai was such a large city that some audience members feared missing their last subway home, so many people left early.

Though they had already bought tickets and not watching seemed wasteful, considering that today’s three insanely grueling BO5s had already been worth the ticket price, psychologically it didn’t feel like such a loss.

In short, due to various combined factors, audience members began leaving one after another, leaving many empty seats in the venue.

Pei Qian slumped in his seat, looking up at the ceiling with complicated feelings.

This entire day of matches had been like death by a thousand cuts!

Originally, he had hoped to watch FV Club lose two BO5s and then happily go home, but unexpectedly, FV Club grew stronger with each battle, winning both BO5s and becoming the champion of this bladder-testing tournament!

Every time Pei Qian felt FV was about to falter, these players would tenaciously find opportunities in adversity and successfully turn the tables on their opponents.

Pei Qian could only sigh.

There was nothing he could do—he couldn’t exactly rush onto the stage and force the players to throw the game, could he?

Looking at his watch, it was just after nine o’clock.

So the question was, what to do next?

Other audience members left early because they lived far from the venue and needed to catch the subway home. But Pei Qian’s hotel was just near this mall, only a five-minute walk away.

Nine o’clock was too early for Pei Qian’s bedtime, and there would be nothing to do if he returned to the hotel now.

At this moment, Pei Qian’s phone rang. It was Wu Yue calling.

“Mr. Pei! Where are you? I’m planning to take the players for a late-night snack nearby before coming back for the departure ceremony. Would you like to join us?”

Wu Yue’s voice was filled with excitement and wild joy.

For him, FV Club achieving such results would have been unimaginable just a month ago!

The former FV Club was just an obscure small club with no star players, no substantial funding, let alone any name recognition.

Even in IOI, an esports project that wasn’t popular domestically, FV Club wasn’t among the top ranks. It was purely a hobby-level operation with no future.

But after Mr. Pei’s investment, everything changed!

They had star players, achievements, attention—everything was looking up!

Securing the first seed spot for the IOI World Championship had proven that FV Club was currently the strongest club in the country, and they should soon gain a large amount of attention and fans.

Once they made a name for themselves in the World Championship, they would gain even more fans!

As long as these results could be maintained for a while, as a top IOI club, FV would definitely receive more and more sponsorships and endorsements, and their fan base would continue to grow. Everything would improve!

So Wu Yue was extremely happy and wanted to treat the players to a feast.

Since Mr. Pei was on-site, he needed to extend an invitation.

Wu Yue wasn’t sure if Mr. Pei would join them—perhaps Mr. Pei had other matters, or perhaps he couldn’t persuade this great Buddha to join them—but asking was still necessary as a basic courtesy.

Pei Qian’s mouth twitched slightly.

What? Eat another meal after the match, to flog my corpse another round?

Pei Qian firmly declined: “I still want to watch the upcoming matches, so I won’t join in the festivities.”

“Today’s stage belongs to the players. Let them eat and rest well.”

Seeing Mr. Pei’s resolute attitude, Wu Yue didn’t insist: “Alright, Mr. Pei. Please call me anytime if you need anything.”

After hanging up, Pei Qian silently sighed.

It was still too early to go back to sleep.

He might as well continue watching two more matches, then return to sleep around 11 o’clock—the timing would be perfect.

The competition continued, with the remaining two teams fighting for the last qualifying spot.

Although the commentators maintained great professionalism, still trying to energize the venue with their hoarse voices, audience members were still quietly leaving one after another.

Even Pei Qian couldn’t muster much enthusiasm and had no interest in following the match details.

There was no help for it—he had watched too many matches today and was becoming numb. Being able to stay in the venue just to hear the sounds was already quite respectful.

Pei Qian yawned and took out his phone to casually browse the web.

At the moment, he wasn’t paying attention; several more messages appeared, all from Zhang Yuan and others.

“Mr. Pei, your move was so brilliant! Using yourself as bait to catch the big fish!”

“Dragon Yu Group thought they were the fishermen, but they were the fish! Now, all the buzz that Dragon Yu Group worked so hard to create has been captured by GPL and FV Club. Mr. Pei effortlessly reversed the public opinion situation. Such planning ability is truly powerful!”

Seeing these messages, a row of question marks appeared above Pei Qian’s head.

????

What did this mean?

Wasn’t the online public opinion still heavily criticizing FV Club and GPL earlier?

Could it be? Had the wind direction changed so quickly?

He hurriedly opened Weibo and various gaming forums to check players’ discussions.

“I laughed so hard—is this what IOI qualifiers are like? Which brainless person came up with this idiotic schedule? From morning till deep into the night, and still not finished. A whole day of BO10 matches—not just the players, even the audience couldn’t take it anymore!”

“By the end, both sides were making frequent mistakes, their condition had deteriorated severely, and the matches lost their viewing appeal. The organizers should take responsibility for this. What kind of bizarre competition format is this—are they in a hurry to be reincarnated?”

“I have a friend at the venue who said that after FV’s match finished, a large number of audience members slipped away because they truly couldn’t take it anymore. Watching matches all day like this was more exhausting than running a marathon.”

“Hilarious! Matches that wear out the audience are indeed rare. The organizers are truly geniuses!”

“Where are those people who were criticizing the FV Club earlier? Step forward! Weren’t you saying things like ‘This is all Mr. Pei’s all-star team can do,’ ‘They crumble at the slightest touch,’ ‘Mr. Pei can only play GOG and gets thrashed in IOI? Are you still jumping around now? Didn’t FV crush all your teams?”

“Laughed myself to death! So many veteran clubs were crushed by a team Mr. Pei assembled in less than a month? This move, this move is attacking from a higher dimension!”

“This proves that Mr. Pei has the power to transform decay into miracles. He casually sets up a club to play around in IOI territory and still brutally destroys all of IOI’s veteran clubs!”

“Don’t exaggerate too much. FV’s five players were originally IOI star players with solid abilities. Should this achievement also be credited to Mr. Pei? What does this have to do with him?”

“Think carefully—are you sure this has nothing to do with Mr. Pei?”

“Think carefully—who invested in FV Club, poaching the right five people from different teams and putting them together?”

“FV’s playing style is different from other clubs, leaning more toward GOG’s tactics and strategies. Who arranged that?”

“These five players strengthened their physical training, improving their physical fitness, so they could maintain good condition during a BO10. Who advocated for this concept?”

“Mr. Pei even took time from his busy schedule to attend in person, cheering on the players. Do you think FV’s resilient performance has nothing to do with this?”

“Mr. Pei may not have been involved in formulating the team’s tactics, but aren’t all these macro-level issues solved by Mr. Pei? Mr. Pei’s role in FV’s BO10 miracle today cannot be replaced by anyone!”

“I barely agree with the rest, but saying they won the BO10 because of strengthened physical training seems far-fetched. The team was only formed a few days ago, right?”

“Indeed, these people have been training for less than a month. But fitness isn’t just about building muscle—it also means regular sleep schedules, adequate rest, and a balanced, nutritious diet. Maintaining this for just over a week will result in noticeably improved mental state.”

“These players may not compare to muscle men like Huang Wang, but compared to the other skinny internet-addicted youths, they have an advantage!”

“Moreover, the schedule arrangement also favored FV. FV played the first and third matches today, while their opponents played the second and third matches. The opponent’s advantage was that they would be warmed up playing the second and third matches consecutively, so in the first small game of their match, FV lost without any suspense. But FV’s advantage was having ample time to rest and adjust between their two matches. This was a key factor in maintaining their good condition during the prolonged battle!”

Thinking about it this way, there was also an issue with the competition format! This isn’t fair!”

“Yes, but this isn’t FV’s fault. As we said, the organizers are trash. If the organizers hadn’t arranged this brain-dead schedule, if it wasn’t a consecutive BO10, the result would be hard to predict.”

“So as I said, although Dragon Yu Group is a large company, they’re not professional in organizing competitions, far inferior to Tenda! Just look at the comparison between the IOI qualifiers and GPL preseason—from venue to match details to schedule arrangement, GOG’s side completely dominates! This is the difference between professional and amateur!”

“And to be honest, IOI’s matches feel too drawn-out, each game taking too long! A single BO5 takes nearly five hours, the pace is too slow. If the World Championship is like this too, I’m not optimistic about IOI’s viewership.”

“The difference is too great. After today, there won’t be IOI matches for a while, so let’s go watch GPL instead—it’s much more entertaining than this.”

“I wonder what Mr. Pei, who was at the venue, thought about all this?”

“Haha, some people were saying Mr. Pei went to watch in person because IOI matches are more entertaining than GPL? What an international joke! I think Mr. Pei’s thoughts were probably: ‘This is what you call organizing a competition? You can’t even copy homework properly!”

“Mr. Pei going to the venue today was a provocation! My invested club directly takes your first seed spot, and you can’t do anything about it—how does that feel? And I even came in person to watch FV Club win the championship, taunting you to your face—what can you do about it?”

“Indeed, Mr. Pei may have already become invincible in GOG, feeling no threat whatsoever, losing his passion. So he used FV Club to switch battlefields to IOI, originally just looking for some fun, but unexpectedly found that IOI teams were all so weak, crumbling at the slightest touch! If I were Mr. Pei, I would now feel that life is as lonely as snow—too boring!”

“I think Mr. Pei probably won’t go watch IOI matches again. The organization was too disappointing.”

“I’m watching the match replay and suddenly realized that Mr. Pei’s close-up shot seems to have a deeper meaning! Look, although Mr. Pei is wearing a mask and being very low-key, his posture is relaxed, looking like he has victory in the bag. When the camera focuses on him, he remains completely unmoved, calm and composed—did he anticipate today’s match results?”

“Cool, cool, cool! I love Mr. Pei’s masked appearance, Mom loves it!”

“Going to watch matches organized by a competitor company, sitting in the front row, and personally witnessing his invested club win the championship—how dominating!”

“I think Mr. Pei wearing a mask originally just wanted to be low-key, not intending to slap Dragon Yu Group’s face too hard. But unexpectedly, Dragon Yu Group actively provided the camera shot, bringing their face up to be slapped by Mr. Pei! I’m dying of laughter!”

Reading these comments, Pei Qian fell into a dazed state.

What on earth were these silly netizens saying?

Among all this, only one sentence was correct—that Mr. Pei now felt life was as lonely as snow.

As for the rest, not a single word was right!

I just came to watch FV lose their matches. I hadn’t thought about all this at all!

However, it was useless to say anything now. The trend of online public opinion had already formed!

After discovering Mr. Pei’s attendance, Zhao Xuming and Dragon Yu Group had seized the opportunity, buying trending topics and hiring paid commenters to hype up the buzz, just waiting for FV to lose so they could direct all this attention to the IOI World Championship.

But now, the script was completely different!

FV had battled through a BO10 and ultimately secured the first seed for the IOI World Championship. As a result, all those pre-prepared statements Zhao Xuming had ready to guide public opinion, smear GPL, and create buzz for the IOI World Championship had all collapsed without a trace!

All the carefully accumulated buzz had concentrated on FV Club and GPL!

In esports, the victor is king. Whether it’s a 3-0 sweep or a hard-fought 3-2 victory, audiences only remember the winners and view the runners-up as the biggest losers.

FV Club originally didn’t have much attention, at most just from fans of those veteran players. But after Dragon Yu Group’s vigorous publicity, audiences learned this was Mr. Pei’s club, and now, with their achievement, the attention naturally skyrocketed!

Pei Qian let out a gentle sigh, feeling somewhat despaired of life.

…

“Unfortunately, there’s no miracle. SUG Club has lost this critical match 0-3 and failed to secure a spot in the World Championship.”

“Honestly, it’s a shame. SUG showed excellent competitive standards in today’s first BO5 and had great hope. But perhaps this is what they call ‘the first attack is strongest, the second weaker, and the third exhausted.’ We could sense that they weren’t particularly prepared for the second BO5, and their competitive state wasn’t maintained very well…”

“We can only hope they’ll redouble their efforts in future matches…”

Below the stage, Ding Gan was so angry his blood pressure rose, nearly making him faint.

Although he had anticipated this, he never expected SUG would be directly swept 3-0!

The reason for such a result was mainly because SUG had focused its primary energy on preparing for the first BO5. After failing to secure it despite all their efforts, the team’s mentality was greatly affected.

Often in elimination tournaments, everything hinges on that one breath of momentum—when that breath rises, you charge forward; once that breath dissipates, everything collapses in an instant.

Ding Gan instinctively looked toward the audience seats beside him. By now, most of the audience had left, with few remaining.

After all, it was already past 11 PM—any later and they would miss the last subway.

In the nearly empty front row of seats, Mr. Pei’s figure stood out starkly.

Although Ding Gan was very angry, for some reason, he couldn’t bring himself to hate Mr. Pei.

Logically speaking, it was Mr. Pei who reorganized the FV Club, taking away a World Championship spot, leading to the SUG Club’s failure to qualify and causing Ding Gan’s investment in this team to be lost.

But Ding Gan felt this wasn’t Mr. Pei’s fault, but Zhao Xuming’s!

If Zhao Xuming had come to discuss the IOI World Championship with the clubs earlier, would SUG have been dismantled?

Zhao Xuming had solemnly guaranteed that SUG would make it to the World Championship, but what happened? As soon as trouble arose, he immediately abandoned SUG!

And this brain-dead competition format—who came up with that?

SUG’s matches were scheduled one at dawn and one late at night—is this how you arrange a schedule?

If the two BO5s had been split across two days, SUG would have had more adequate preparation time. Perhaps the match results would have been different?

Indeed, SUG Club’s failure to qualify was caused by Mr. Pei.

But Ding Gan knew clearly that Mr. Pei wasn’t specifically targeting the SUG Club.

Mr. Pei’s reorganization of the FV Club primarily aimed to slap IOI and Dragon Yu Group in the face. SUG just happened to be caught in Mr. Pei’s AOE damage.

As for SUG’s failure to qualify, Zhao Xuming was the one who couldn’t escape blame!

If not for Zhao Xuming’s incompetence, being beaten by Mr. Pei without any ability to fight back, would SUG have suffered along with him?

The more Ding Gan thought about it, the angrier he became.

“Zhao Xuming! If I ever follow you again, I’d be a dog!”

“In the future, I’d rather play in GDL and never enter GPL than touch IOI again!”

For some reason, the more Ding Gan looked at Mr. Pei, the more he felt desperate and disheartened.

He should never have had any connection with Mr. Pei’s competitors—such bad luck!

If he had determinedly followed Mr. Pei, even if there had been unpleasantness before and he wasn’t doing well, wouldn’t that still be better than being inexplicably grouped and hit now?

With an ashen face, Ding Gan didn’t plan to find Zhao Xuming again and left in a huff.

On stage, the three qualifying teams all appeared for the departure ceremony.

But the front-row audience members had already left, as it was too late, and there wasn’t much to see in the departure ceremony anyway.

Pei Qian originally stood up to leave as well, but after walking a few steps, he noticed the exit was crowded. Leaving now meant squeezing through the crowd. After considering, he sat back down in the central seat to casually watch the departure ceremony, waiting for everyone to disperse before leaving.

After all, his hotel was just a five-minute walk away, so he wasn’t in a hurry.

At this moment, an audience member who was about to leave suddenly had a moment of inspiration. Taking out their phone, they aimed at the empty front row of seats and Pei Qian’s back, taking a photo.

“Click.”

In the photo, Pei Qian sat in the center of the front row, facing the competition stage and big screen, his solitary figure particularly striking.

On stage, the fifteen players from the three teams stood in a row. FV Club’s five players, having returned from their late-night snack, stood in the middle, closest to the front, echoing Mr. Pei in the audience below.

Actually, Pei Qian had originally been sitting in a seat at the edge of the front row because he didn’t want to be too conspicuous. But when leaving, after walking a few steps and sitting back down, he happened to sit in the center.

The enthusiastic audience member who took the photo checked it, was very satisfied with the composition, and happily posted it online.

Another new world-famous painting: “The Last Spectator”!