TCWSITD – Chapter 36.3

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Chapter 36.3 – Poison-Tongued Li Quan

The day after WG took down XIG was the showdown between KUG and SNG.

Alike started strong, dominating the lanes and building a solid early lead. But as the game transitioned into the mid-game, all his weaknesses came glaringly to light.

He is conceited, doesn’t care about his teammates and likes to show off—winnable team fights often slip away due to his greed.

Both games followed the same script: early dominance, mid-game feeding, and late-game wipeouts.

SNG secured match point, and though KUG fought tooth and nail to win the third game, they were swiftly eliminated in the fourth game, ending their playoff hopes for good.

#KUGFailsToMakeTopFour quickly became a hot topic online.

Alike naturally bore the brunt of the blame. No matter how flashy his plays were, they meant nothing if they didn’t secure wins—showing off in losing games just made him look like a clown.

The second to take heat was Zeng Yuan. His tempo was clearly crushed by God Huan, and with the lack of coordination with Alike, the two played like strangers. Neither match saw any real teamwork from them.

Then there’s the top laner, who suffered two humiliating losses against SNG’s top laner—losing as Renekton against K’Sante and then losing as K’Sante against Renekton. It was an utter embarrassment.

At the bottom lane, the duo played neither hot nor cold—completely forgettable, as if they weren’t even there.

In short, KUG didn’t have a single player worth bragging about.

[LOL, an experimental shuffle—whoever gets swapped is gonna feel awkward.]

[KUG’s supposed to be a double championship team, right? How did they end up like this?]

[The only difference between the Spring and Summer Split is that Lin Jiang was replaced. I don’t need to explain who the problem is, right?]

[Never realized how weak Lin Jiang’s teammates were until Alike replaced him. Now the other four look downright terrible.]

[Hahaha, I’m dying of laughter. Before the Summer Split started, the whole KUG team was calling Lin Jiang trash. How do they feel now? Are they having a heart attack?]

[Lin Jiang: Carrying the blame for years, finally vindicated in one go!]

[Let me ask KUG, do you regret it or not?]

If KUG losing to OT still had some fans stubbornly making excuses, then KUG missing the playoffs completely shut them up.

Losing was a fact, and their drop in ranking was also a fact. No matter how much they argued, they couldn’t change the outcome.

Just as KUG seemed beyond saving, some people online started defending Alike—

[Alike’s individual skills are still strong. It’s just that KUG wasn’t the right team for him.]

The comment section erupted in mockery—

[If you got in through connections, just admit it. Don’t try to slap on some ‘strong player’ label on him. Everyone knows Alike is the boss’ younger cousin.]

[Not a good fit? Why didn’t you say that when you were squeezing Lin Jiang out?]

[Lin Jiang didn’t say he wasn’t a good fit when he went to OT, and they’ve already secured a top-four playoff spot even before playing.]

[What did Lin Jiang’s teammates do to deserve getting a mid laner like you?]

[Last year KUG was the number-one team. This year they can’t even make top six???]

[Forcing a downgrade—this is seriously messed up.]

Under the overwhelming backlash, KUG suffered unprecedented damage, and even the board of directors grew restless.

The only silver lining was that KUG still had a chance in the Regional Qualifiers. If they could make it to Worlds, fans might just cling to a thread of hope.

#WhatWillHappenlfKUGLosesTheRegionalQualifiers?

The topic trended on social media, and the top comments were unanimous: bury them.

In the aftermath of the playoffs, KUG was hit with hundreds of thousands of hate comments in a single day, and the team’s market value dropped by 200 million overnight.The executives were in full-blown panic mode—scrambling like ants on a hot pan. No one dared take the fall.

Rumors even spread within the company’s internal group: KUG was planning to lay off the entire operations department.

Apart from the training division, the operations team was the largest within the organization. If they really cut them out, KUG would be severely crippled.

Arguments could be heard from the office. The employees couldn’t make out the specifics, but they heard Alike slam the door and yell, “This is my brother’s company! Who the hell do you think you are?”

Alike stormed out, slamming the door behind him, leaving the executives fuming with rage.

“Looks like the sky’s finally changing over at KUG…”

Song Zhixu sat on the rooftop, drinking with Lin Jiang. “KUG lost. Do you feel a little better?”

Lin Jiang wrapped his fingers around the can and gave a quiet smile, shaking his head.

Honestly, he hadn’t expected KUG to actually lose to SNG. In his previous life, after Alike took over his position, he dominated the LPL for three straight years, only collapsing in the regional qualifiers in the final year.

Without his guidance, Alike could no longer become the God A of the past. And now, with Lin Jiang leading OT, they’d just taken KUG’s place on the road to Worlds.

Just one small change, and unexpectedly everything else shifted along with it.

Lin Jiang took a sip of alcohol, the rooftop breeze making him feel pleasantly at ease. He narrowed his eyes slightly. “You haven’t told anyone about us drinking, right?”

Song Zhixu shook his head vigorously. “My lips are sealed.”

After KUG’s loss, Lin Jiang’s mood had seemed consistently low. Song Zhixu noticed and secretly bought a few cans of beer, messaging Lin Jiang to join him on the rooftop for a drink.

He hadn’t held out much hope, but to his surprise, Lin Jiang actually came up.

When Lin Jiang arrived, he had even changed into casual home clothes, making him appear even more approachable.

He sat casually on the steps, savoring this rare moment of relaxation. “To be honest, I have mixed feelings about KUG’s loss.”

“Zeng Yuan and the others were teammates I personally mentored. Seeing them look so lost on stage, I can’t help but want to comfort them. Don’t laugh, but I’ve even thought about what I’d say to console them. It’s like my body remembers how—it’s instinct now. Like a lock that still holds me tight.”

Because of this lock, he had willingly trapped himself for four years in his previous life…

If fate hadn’t given him another chance, he might have stayed locked in that prison until the day he died.

Song Zhixu understood the subtext of Lin Jiang’s words and looked at him with sympathy. “Captain, you weren’t happy at KUG, were you? It was just a sense of duty that trapped you.”

Duty? Lin Jiang wasn’t sure.

He didn’t know what it was that had held him captive.

He stared down at the can in his hand, fingers tightening around it.

His mind drifted back to the first time he arrived at KUG and met He Gu.

Even in his younger years, He Gu had been an incredibly charismatic person. He wasn’t like those idle rich kids who coasted through life with no ambition—he was something else entirely.

He was respectful, well-mannered, poised in every situation. He had ideals, and a vision for the future. And the closer you got to him, the more you could feel it—that simmering mix of awe and hunger, his unshakable drive to shake the world.

By the end of their conversations, a faint smile from him made it feel as though the entire world was tilting in Lin Jiang’s favor.

Lin Jiang felt that He Gu was very much like himself. He could be completely unguarded around him.

They would talk passionately and freely, speaking of their unrealistic dreams, encouraging one another to create possibilities out of impossibilities.

There may be no two people in the world who can understand each other and be so similar to each other like they do.

Back then, He Gu was everything Lin Jiang admired—everything he wanted to be. He placed him so high above, he didn’t dare reach out.

What he felt was more reverence than love.

When did it all start to change?

Maybe it was the day He Gu casually asked him to help pick out a tie.

“I have a feeling you’ve got great taste.”

Ambiguity brewed between them, unspoken yet mutually understood.

He picked out ties for him, advised him on suit colors, even selected the latest watch in the color he knew He Gu liked most.

Behind all those price tags, Lin Jiang had quietly measured the distance between them.

It felt like—if he just tried a little harder, took one more step toward him—they would get a little closer.

But he never expected that just as he thought he was getting closer, He Gu’s casual remark instantly rendered all his efforts meaningless.

“Just ordinary friends.”

Lin Jiang suddenly understood.

Even if he walked a hundred steps toward He Gu, the man would always take one step back.

Indeed, someone like He Gu should be placed on a pedestal. To expect anything from him was just asking to get hurt.

Lin Jiang tipped his can back and finished the last drop of beer, a soft buzz of intoxication settling over him.

His mind was completely empty, the breeze against his skin feeling incredibly soothing.

Song Zhixu’s voice reached his ears:. “Don’t worry, Captain. We’ll never become your burden. As long as I, Song Zhixu, am around, I’Il make sure you’re happy every single day.”

Lin Jiang glanced at him and suddenly realized Song Zhixu had a seriously handsome side to him too.

He couldn’t help but laugh, clinking his can with the other person.

Then he asked, “What about you? What’s holding you back?”

Song Zhixu looked at him in confusion. “What?”

“Your family,” Lin Jiang said softly.

Song Zhixu froze for a moment before nervously tightening his grip on the can in his hand. “Old Du told you?”

Lin Jiang nodded. “He didn’t say much, so I wanted to ask you myself.”

Song Zhixu didn’t really want to discuss those matters with Lin Jiang. He mumbled, feeling a bit aggrieved, “Why does Old Du have to tell you everything? I specifically told him not to mention it to you… It’s so embarrassing…”

Lin Jiang leaned against the steps, setting down his drink.

To be honest, in Lin Jiang’s eyes, Song Zhixu had always been a genuinely kind person—and he still believed that now.

He just didn’t want someone’s kindness to become a tool for others to control them.

He said softly, “I was the one who asked. I overheard you on the phone that day—your family was demanding money from you. I was worried, so I asked about your situation.”

In that instant, the wound Song Zhixu had worked so hard to keep buried was ripped open.

Suddenly giving up on pretense, he thought there was no point in hiding it. This was who he was—where he came from. Sooner or later, Lin Jiang would find out.

Might as well tell him now and cut off any foolish hopes sooner than later.

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