123: Chapter 122 Lucky Squad vs. Wall of Despair

"Gold Tier Talent... so this is what it is..."

"I finally understand why President Shen Qing's Minor Life Technique is ranked third. Both are Gold Tier support, but she can extend lives. This Yang Hang, he can change fate."

"What expression does that Instructor Liu Qiang have now, the one who looked down on him before? Did anyone take a screenshot?"

"Got it, he's sitting in the spectator area nearby. His expression can be summed up in two words—constipated."

The referee's whistle blew.

Under the continuous erosion of Captain Ye Shuang's Poison Fog and the precise harvesting of Fang Rui's arrows, the health bars of the five members of Qin Lie's team successively dropped below twenty percent.

The entire team was eliminated.

When Qin Lie was fished out, he was soaked to the bone, crouching on the deck of the temporary Houseboat, motionless.

The Blade of Breaking Edges was stuck in the deck beside his feet, and he stared at that Silver Grade dagger that had accompanied him through who knows how many battles.

Fifteen stabs. All missed.

It wasn't that the opponent was too strong for him to beat; it was that he couldn't even touch them.

In the past, when he encountered high-level sea beasts he couldn't beat, he at least knew where the gap lay—not enough speed, insufficient power, or defense that was too tough.

But this time, he couldn't see the gap. His speed was fine, his power was fine, his angles were fine. Everything was fine.

Yet, he just couldn't land a hit.

Liu Hanyan walked up to him, opened her mouth, but didn't say anything.

Zhou Zijin leaned against the ship's railing with her arms crossed, her face pale.

Yu Fei crouched in the corner, rubbing his temples, his eyes unfocused.

The entire Shadow Blade team fell into collective silence.

Someone in the live stream sighed.

"Qin Lie's expression... it hurts my heart to watch."

"The dignified twenty-third place in the Yanhuang Civilization Top Thousand, the man who could kill with a single blow underwater, has been beaten into total silence."

"Can't blame him. Anyone targeted by a Gold Tier Talent like that would shut down. The chasm between Silver Grade and Gold Tier really isn't something that can be bridged by effort."

"That may be true, but this Yang Hang is truly terrifying. It's not the kind of terrifying that comes from brute force suppression; it's the kind where you simply cannot understand why you lost."

"The most terrifying enemy isn't one you can't defeat; it's one where you can't even figure out how you lost."

Meanwhile, on Captain Ye Shuang's team side.

The five of them stood on the deck, full of energy and in perfect condition.

They hadn't even lost a single drop of health.

— — Round Four. Round Five. Round Six.

It is worth mentioning that in the fifth round, the Yang Hang with the Siren Bloodline, who had a serial number in the two-thousands, was eliminated.

But even though he was eliminated, there were still people tirelessly making associations and speculations about his identity and the identity of the Fate Master.

Compared to the popularity of Captain Ye Shuang and Yang Hang's team live stream window in the previous rounds, the live stream window of the Yang Hang with the Siren Bloodline started with hundreds of millions of viewers.

By the final round, the fifth round, it had siphoned away half of the over 1.3 billion Yanhuang Survivors.

Nearly 600 million viewers online.

Terrifying, simply terrifying.

Captain Ye Shuang's team crushed everything in their path.

They encountered the fourth seed, Iron Wall Fortress—

Zhao Zheng's Iron Wall defense, under Yang Hang's Power of Causality, turned into a burden that blocked his own teammates' vision, while Fang Rui's arrows precisely passed through the gaps in Zhao Zheng's Iron Wall, hitting the back row.

It ended in eight minutes.

They also encountered the third seed, Frozen Verdict—

Su Wanqing's Ice Crystal Domain froze half the battlefield at the start, but the footsteps of the five members of Captain Ye Shuang's team didn't slip even once on the ice; instead, Su Wanqing's own teammates slipped and fell twice. When Su Wanqing withdrew her move, the expression on her face jumped repeatedly between "aloof" and "confused."

Even in the semi-finals, they encountered the second seed, Thunder God Assault—

Lin Zhaoyang's Grasp of Thunder outputted at full power, arcs of electricity crackled, and blue-white lightning struck toward Captain Ye Shuang's team. Every bolt of lightning, less than ten centimeters from its target, was blocked or affected by various reasons, causing it to turn and strike into the sea.

After the match, the twenty-seven-year-old lightning-type warrior roared at the sky, not in anger, but in pure disbelief.

The barrage in the live stream went from shock to numbness, from numbness to carnival, from carnival to a kind of near-religious awe.

"They won again."

"Of course they won again."

"Can even the second-seeded contestant do absolutely nothing against this Gold Tier Little Luck Technique?"

"You guys are still discussing whether they can win? I'm already discussing by how much they'll win."

"Statistics update: Captain Ye Shuang's team has played seven matches, attacked over three hundred times in total. Number of hits: zero. Own health loss: zero."

"If these stats were released, no one would believe it."

"From now on, I declare that Little Luck Technique Yang Hang is my idol, the fourth strongest among us Yanhuang Survivors, second only to Lord Fate Master, Officer Zheng Yuanshan, and President Shen Qing!"

"Gold Tier is Gold Tier. It's simply not in the same dimension as Silver Grade."

"I finally understand why President Shen Qing's Minor Life Technique is ranked third in all of Yanhuang Civilization. Both are Gold Tier—this is the uncrossable chasm between Gold and Silver."

"Who is Captain Ye Shuang's team's next opponent?"

"It's the finals."

"The opponent is—"

"Wall of Despair."

The refresh rate of the barrage suddenly slowed down.

It wasn't that no one was typing; it was that everyone was organizing the same sentence at the same time.

Three seconds later, the comment section was flooded with the same barrage.

"The strongest spear versus the strongest shield."

"The God of Luck with zero hits, against the uncrowned kings with three Gold Tier members holding the fort."

"Zheng Yuanshan. Shen Qing. Zhang Haotian. Guan Tiezhu. Gu Qingyi."

"Are these five people—the final stop for the dark horse chariot that is Captain Ye Shuang's team?"

Yang Hang stood on the deck of Captain Ye Shuang's flagship, hands in his pockets, his gaze cast toward the direction where that three-hundred-meter giant ship was slowly sailing into the finals' sea area.

At the bow of the ship, an elderly man in his sixties stood with his hands behind his back.

He had a square face, thick eyebrows, and completely white temples.

Across a thousand meters of sea, Zheng Yuanshan's gaze pierced through layers of water vapor and landed precisely on Yang Hang.

The old man's mouth twitched.

It wasn't a smile, nor was it solemnity.

It was the kind of grave expression one only has when seeing someone worthy of being taken seriously.

Yang Yue stood beside Yang Hang, gripping her halberd tightly.

Her palms were full of sweat.

"Brother."

"Yeah."

"The other side has three Gold Tier members."

"I know."

"...Can we win?"

Yang Hang looked down at her.

He recalled a famous quote, but immediately just smiled faintly and said:

"We shouldn't lose."