Micro-managing Mutalisks is already a high-difficulty maneuver for Zerg players. You have to cluster a squad of 12 Mutalisks at a single point, keep them tightly grouped, attack, and then quickly pull them back so the attacks stack on one spot. If your control slips even a little, they’ll scatter, and a single mistake means total annihilation. Keep in mind, he’s up against a top-tier Terran player—just pulling off this Mutalisk micro is already insanely hard.

And now, what the hell is this double-pronged attack?

Unless you have two pro players operating at the same time,

This—only God could pull it off. Luke simply didn’t believe it.

Eric Bennett didn’t believe it either. The kid always has these unrealistic fantasies.

The Terran base was protected by defense towers. Luke’s forces threw themselves at the Mutalisks head-on, while the Mutalisks at the front kept darting in and out, never taking a straight fight. But three seconds later, on the other side of the battlefield, the Terran base’s anti-air towers and workers were already wiped out.

The entire internet café felt like it had been hit by a time-freeze spell. Everyone stared, dumbfounded, at this miracle that had never been seen before.

Both groups of Mutalisks stayed perfectly together, like well-trained soldiers executing a lethal strike with precision. This was a god-tier maneuver in the history of StarCraft.

At this moment, the whole world seemed to fall silent because of this play.

And this move directly shattered Luke’s mental defenses. The Mutalisks on both fronts kept whittling away at the Terran’s territory. Luke knew he couldn’t drag it out any longer. He sent all his forces charging toward the Zerg base—this was the calmest judgment: base trade. Terran can destroy bases faster.

But during this stalling, Peter’s third squad of Mutalisks was ready. This time, he didn’t avoid the fight. All three squads merged and struck in unison.

One strike.

With a loud bang, Luke’s Wraith formation vanished in an instant. The combined damage from three squads of Mutalisks exploded off the charts.

This was the Zerg’s second nuke—another legend, a move that only existed as self-amusement in practice.

The match wasn’t over yet, but the remaining Terran forces suddenly lost control, standing there dumbly. At this moment, Luke’s spirit was broken.

The Terran army collapsed, and finally, the base exploded under the focused fire of the Mutalisks.

Luke stared blankly at the screen. From start to finish, his hands hadn’t moved at all, as if glued to the table.

This wasn’t just a defeat—it was a devastating blow to his pride.

The internet café was dead silent. Everyone stared at the screen, motionless. Did we win? Did we really win? Is this a dream?

The boy in the private room shrugged, picked up the iced tea on the table, and put it in his bag. Can’t let this go to waste—his dad wouldn’t buy him another.

On the other side, Eric Bennett had squeezed his coffee cup flat. Coffee spilled all over him, but he didn’t even notice. This was like grinding the Pope’s dignity into the dirt and then tossing it in the trash. Divine light—he saw infinite possibilities for ssg’s rise.

After a moment of silence, the internet café erupted like a volcano, with deafening cheers.

We won! We won! We really won!

“Peter is awesome! China is awesome!” someone shouted, and the whole café was swept up in a wave of joy. Even more people watching the livestream jumped up, pumping their fists and shouting.

At this moment, the schoolboy had quietly stood up from his seat. He glanced back at the adults in the café, singing and dancing, then silently walked to the front desk. “Miss, log off number 38.”

His card was set up just for the tournament, so there was no charge.

Eric Bennett hurried to stop Peter, his gaze burning with intensity—more focused than if he were looking at a beautiful woman.

“Ahem, Peter, hello, I’m Eric Bennett, the general manager of ssg.” Eric Bennett tried to put on a gentle smile, but couldn’t hide his pride. After all, ssg was once a powerhouse in Korean esports.

“Goodbye, miss.” David Thompson glanced at him, unconcerned.

Seeing Peter about to leave, Eric Bennett quickly blocked his way. Maybe his Chinese wasn’t clear enough. “Peter, I’m the manager of a Korean pro club. Do you want to be a pro player? We can make you a star, put you in the spotlight, and you can make lots and lots of money.”

“Oh, not interested,” David Thompson said.

This left Eric Bennett, who had considered every possibility, at a loss. “Not interested? With your talent, not going pro is such a waste.”

Eric Bennett just couldn’t understand this answer. The other party was a natural-born pro, young, and with a bit of training, could easily have six or seven years at the top.

“Uncle, I’m just playing for fun. I don’t understand what you’re saying.” David Thompson checked the time. He’d planned to play three games, but ended up playing five.

Eric Bennett glanced back at the screen, where Luke was still in a daze. The Terran Pope had almost been beaten into an idiot, and you call this just playing for fun?

If this is just for fun, what would it be if you were serious?

Here’s the third update—more to come.

Chapter Four: If You Pay, Even My Son Is Up for Negotiation

But when he turned around, the person was already gone, leaving only the giggling receptionist.

David Thompson had already slipped away. A foreigner speaking such good Chinese—did they really think he was easy to fool?

Across the street at the KFC, a middle-aged man in his forties sat by the window. There was no food in front of him, just a glass teacup with tea leaves that had clearly been steeped several times.

Through the huge glass window, the man saw the boy running down from the overpass. The impatience on his face finally gave way to a hint of a smile.