The beautiful reporter's headline was sharp and eye-catching:

"The Terrifying Seidou!"

That afternoon, the Seidou High School Baseball Team players gathered and read the article on their phones.

"Wow, this big-sis reporter is fast!"

The third-year seniors were ecstatic.

Unlike the previous article, which had focused solely on Zhou Hao, this new report highlighted the entire team. It included content from her earlier interviews, giving full recognition to Seidou's core batters and detailing how they scored ten runs in just five innings against Sensen—an established quarterfinal regular.

Especially the explosive first inning—it was compared to a professional-level offense.

After reading it, even Azuma Kiyokuni and the others felt they were already playing like pros.

Of course, Zhou Hao wasn't forgotten.

The reporter only wrote two short sentences about him—but their weight was enormous:

Zhou Hao pitched a complete game in his very first start.

He didn't allow a single hit or base runner.

Even some Seidou players hadn't realized this at first. The game ended so quickly that it barely sunk in.

Now that it was in writing, everyone stared at the article, wide-eyed.

"He pitched the whole game... on his first start?"

"Not just that—no hits, no walks, nothing."

"Amazing, Zhou Hao!"

Of course, there were also those who liked to stir the pot.

Miyuki Kazuya walked up to Yoshida, the official Ace of the team, and said with a smug smile:

"Yoshida, don't feel bad, okay? You're still our real Ace."

Yoshida's eye twitched.

"You're always fine... until you open your mouth."

He raised a fist playfully.

"If you didn't speak, no one would think you were mute."

Miyuki grinned and dodged away, laughing.

Though Yoshida was a little sour, he wasn't bitter. From the perspective of the team, Zhou Hao was a godsend.

Even Yoshida, as Ace, couldn't deny how much Zhou Hao's presence raised their chances.

Compared to previous years, Seidou's performance had reached a new peak.

In past tournaments, Seidou would typically dominate their early games—but not like this. Not with back-to-back 5-inning mercy rule victories.

They weren't just winning—they were crushing.

Even their long-time rivals had taken notice.

Both Inashiro Industrial and Ichidai Third had sent their full rosters to scout Seidou's quarterfinal match against Sensen.

Meanwhile, Seidou didn't bother scouting either of them.

That, in itself, was a statement.

Despite being stuck in a rut for the past few years—watching their rivals take turns going to Koshien—this year felt different.

This year, the Seidou players believed they would break through.

"Inashiro won their game too," a third-year muttered.

The news arrived even before the video footage. Though Seidou didn't watch the match live, they had someone record it.

"It's them, huh?"

"The team that played against Inashiro... they were lucky to even make the quarterfinals. No match at all."

"What was the score?"

"11-0. Game ended in five innings."

Everyone fell silent.

Just that morning, Inashiro had watched their 10-0 victory in person.

And now Inashiro had responded with an even more crushing win.

"Think they're trying to show off?"

"Hard not to admire those guys sometimes..."

"The tape's here! Let's go watch it."

The team gathered around the screen for a tactical meeting.

Even though Seidou already knew Inashiro well, no detail was too small when your next opponent was Narumiya Mei and the best team in Tokyo.

Time had passed since they last studied them—who knew how much had changed?

While the seniors trained hard, Zhou Hao sat quietly on the bench.

In his words:

"I might not be able to train like you guys, but I can offer my presence."

Whether they needed his "presence" or not, Zhou Hao didn't seem to care.

He simply did what he felt was necessary.

When Chris saw him spacing out, he came over and said:

"You should watch the tape too. Coach is definitely going to ask questions later."

But Zhou Hao didn't even flinch.

"For a one-sided match like that? They didn't show any of their cards. And if they did, how can you be sure it wasn't just a decoy?"

Zhou Hao wasn't being arrogant—just honest.

In his view, the video wouldn't reveal anything that truly mattered.

Inashiro hadn't needed to go all-out.

And when they did... that's when the real game would begin.

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