January 14th, Los Angeles time, Saturday morning; January 15th, Jingzhou local time, early morning.

Today was the semifinals match day for the IOI Global Finals, and Team FV was fully prepared.

At the hotel, Ye Zhizhou, Bao Xu, and others waved goodbye to the team members, watching them board the minibus.

The backstage area at the venue couldn’t accommodate everyone, and Ye Zhizhou, Bao Xu, and others had completed their data analysis work for now – they could take a break.

Coach Old Zhou took some tactical team members to the venue, while Ye Zhizhou and others could move freely.

Of course, if new tactics emerged after the semifinals, they would still need to continue analyzing and providing tactical support to Team FV.

A week had passed since the quarterfinals. During this time, several Western teams had sent practice match invitations to Team FV, and FV’s response was uniform: “Sorry, our practice schedule is already full.”

This wasn’t entirely a lie, as Team FV was indeed fully booked with practice matches against SUG and their second team, training for over ten hours daily.

Team FV simply didn’t want to adjust their training plan to accommodate these Western teams.

“Let’s grab a drink?” Ye Zhizhou suggested.

The others readily agreed, heading to a nearby bar. This bar would broadcast the IOI Global Finals, letting them drink while watching the matches – perfect.

However, they didn’t notice a balding Western man sitting in the corner of the hotel lobby’s rest area, quietly sipping coffee while observing Team FV.

Eric watched Team FV’s massive support team and fell into deep thought.

Recently, Eric’s failure in promoting IOI’s Chinese server had greatly disappointed Dayak Group, who replaced him with Chrétien to handle IOI China’s operations.

The domestic market was too huge for any multinational company to abandon.

After Chrétien took office, he implemented sweeping changes, including modifying IOI’s gameplay and partnering with Longyu Group. While it was too early to call it a success or failure, he’d at least created momentum.

In the eyes of Dayak Group’s executives, Chrétien’s trustworthiness had solidified.

This was quite a blow for Eric.

As a high-ranking executive at Dayak Group, he couldn’t be completely demoted – his job and position within the company were secure.

But everyone who reaches such a position is ambitious. Watching Chrétien succeed in his former role was naturally hard to accept.

Eric hadn’t given up. Instead, he chose to bide his time, silently observing the battle between GOG and IOI while looking for opportunities.

While the current situation seemed hopeless for Eric, and others saw no chance of his comeback, Eric himself didn’t share this view.

Before returning to Los Angeles, he had thoroughly investigated Tenda’s various methods of promoting GOG and had spoken with President Pei.

Eric understood very clearly: despite Chrétien’s current success, he was bound to fail.

Because Chrétien had no idea just how formidable President Pei truly was.

Eric knew perfectly well that all of Chrétien’s current tactics – modifying the game, organizing tournaments – were strategies President Pei had already exhausted. Using Pei’s playbook against him couldn’t possibly succeed.

President Pei’s counterattack had already begun quietly, with Team FV being Pei’s breakthrough strategy.

From the domestic IOI qualifiers to Team FV’s series of “performances” at Worlds, President Pei’s influence seemed to lurk behind them. But Eric had no intention of sharing his insights with Chrétien or Dayak Group’s leadership.

For Eric, his interests far outweighed the company’s. Surrendering valuable intelligence now wouldn’t gain him maximum leverage, and might not even be taken seriously.

Eric finished his coffee and left.

After the IOI Global Finals concluded, the second round of confrontation between Dayak Group and Tenda Group should reach its conclusion.

…

Meanwhile, in Jingzhou.

Pei Qian had already woken up, eating breakfast while waiting for the IOI Global Finals to begin.

For the semifinals and finals, the timing was much more viewer-friendly in China, with only one BO5 match per day allowing more flexible scheduling.

“This opponent in the semifinals looks pretty fierce. They should be able to deliver, right?”

“Win just one game against Team FV – that’s not too much to ask, is it?”

Pei Qian felt a strange sense of anticipation.

With some time before the match started, the screen was looping highlights from both FV’s and their opponents’ quarterfinal performances.

Pei Qian watched the stream’s bullet comments while eating breakfast:

“Let’s go FV! You can do it!”

“Don’t ask for improvement – just repeat the quarterfinals! Another 3:0!”

“Go go go!”

But even before this crucial international match, trolls continued their disruption, spamming “GOG only plays with itself” and similar phrases.

Pei Qian couldn’t help but admire these Internet ghostwriters’ dedication – Longyu Group must have paid quite a bit.

Of course, some might genuinely be trolls, not paid commenters.

But paid commenters were doing their job for money – why would unpaid trolls work so hard? This was perplexing.

Just as Pei Qian took a sip of his drink, a bullet comment made him nearly spit it all out.

“Trolls, stop arguing – go argue with the Argument Machine instead!”

“AEEIS Fully Automatic Argument Machine – satisfies all your arguing needs!”

“The Argument Machine is so fun, every troll should get one.”

“Still getting baited by trolls? Too naive. Buy an Argument Machine to train your mentality. After arguing with the machine, you’ll think trolls’ skills are too low to be worth engaging!”

Watching the conversation inexplicably shift direction, Pei Qian was stunned.

“What’s happening? How did the topic suddenly turn to the Argument Machine?”

“Didn’t I see on Friday that hardly any units had sold?”

Pei Qian had been busy checking departmental reports at the company these past few days, not paying attention to the Argument Machine. In that brief inattention, disaster struck!

He quickly grabbed his phone and checked the store, discovering that over 300 units had sold just through the mobile store!

This was only from OTTO phone users – the Fully Automatic Smart Argument Machine was also available on other shopping platforms and OTTO Technology’s official website. Combined, the sales were substantial!

“Did Chang You ignore my instructions and promote it anyway?”

Pei Qian searched online but found no promotional content for the Fully Automatic Argument Machine.

“This is bizarre. It seems to have gone viral for no obvious reason, apparently starting from gaming forums?”

“Damn it! Old Qiao!”

After extensive searching, Pei Qian finally found Qiao Liang’s Weibo post, grinding his teeth in anger.

But examining the post’s comments and shares, they weren’t that high?

Clearly, Qiao Liang played a role in the Argument Machine’s explosion, but wasn’t the main cause.

The device seemed to have naturally caught fire without obvious viral nodes – people just seemed to naturally embrace it.

Pei Qian was completely confused, unable to understand why people liked this thing.

As Pei Qian puzzled over this, the match officially began.

The two commentators were fired up, working hard to hype the atmosphere while showering Team FV with praise.

Though IOI officials didn’t favor Team FV, they were China’s sole remaining team. They certainly couldn’t hype foreign teams instead.

Pei Qian could only console himself: “It’s fine, hype them all you want – maybe jinx Team FV…”

The match quickly entered the pick-ban phase.

On Team FV’s side, Coach Old Zhou stood with his notepad, expression relaxed and composed, with players laughing among themselves. They showed no pressure.

Pre-match mentality was crucial. While seriousness and diligence were important, excessive tension could lead to restricted play and poor performance.

Moreover, Team FV had thoroughly prepared tactically, with players performing well – their confidence was naturally high.

Their opponents were equally confident.

Especially the opposing coach, standing behind his players with a notepad, looking strategic and spirited.

This coach appeared to be in his early thirties, with a well-trimmed beard and a neat suit – looking very reliable.

Pei Qian breathed a sigh of relief. At the semifinals level, there were no weak teams.

The quarterfinals were a week ago, so the opponents had surely studied match footage repeatedly and found counters for Team FV.

The ban phase proceeded normally, with the opponents banning heroes that FV performed well with in the quarterfinals. FV had first pick.

Then Team FV instantly selected a champion with zero picks in the entire tournament.

The camera cut to the opposing coach, whose expression shifted from confidence to doubt to confusion and bewilderment.

He stared at the game screen in disbelief, almost thinking he’d misread.

Then he began frantically communicating with his team.

Though they spoke in English and their conversation wasn’t broadcast, viewers could roughly guess what he was saying:

“Can you guys handle this champion?”

“Which lane?”

“This must be a specific counter to meta systems. Which one is it targeting…”

The coach was completely lost, not understanding why FV would pick this champion, having never faced it in practice.

Time ticked down during the pick phase. The opposing team clearly couldn’t figure out a solution, eventually falling back on two meta champions they considered strong for their most practiced and familiar strategy.

This seemed to play right into Team FV’s hands. Coach Old Zhou barely hesitated, having players instantly lock in two more champions specifically countering the opponents’ specialty.

This instant-lock created powerful psychological intimidation.

One side deliberated until time ran out before locking their pick, while the other confidently instant-locked their choices. The difference was stark.

Pei Qian sighed melancholically, deeply worried about the opposing team’s fate.