Chapter 4#

The Deadweight Pretty Boy#

The coach and Chu Feng looked down. In the footage, the two teams were rapidly unleashing spells, a dazzling array of magic flashing before the audience’s eyes in an endless stream. The scene was intensely thrilling.

It’s often said that amateurs watch the spectacle while professionals watch the technique. The coach raised an eyebrow, lost in thought, while Chu Feng’s expression was grim. “They’re doing it on purpose.”

The agent said, “You think so too.”

The coach pointed at the short-haired young man charging ahead, brandishing his magic staff, and commented, “This guy is pushing too far forward. He’s completely ignoring the cooperation from the rear. Meanwhile, these healers and controllers are all protecting him, their attention nowhere near the enemy…”

He clicked pause, indicating the motion of Si Qi adjusting his magic staff. “Si Qi was originally preparing a fireblast spell. Three seconds would have been more than enough for him to hit at least three enemies on the opposing side, but his teammate suddenly charged over there. He had no choice but to redirect the attack to the lone assassin in the distance—an AOE magic attack aimed at the most agile assassin. Hitting him at all was lucky, but no matter how you look at it, it was a huge loss.”

The agent stared at the paused screen, where a barrage of comments were attacking Si Qi for being brainless and unable to fight. “No wonder everyone says Si Qi can’t fight. Anyone seeing a fireblast spell used on an assassin would definitely curse him out!”

Chu Feng’s face was dark, and he repeated his earlier judgment: “Si Qi’s teammates are doing this intentionally. They’re not giving him any chance to shine, and they don’t even know how to protect him.”

Every player on the field knew that the priority was to target AOE mages with poor mobility, strong situational awareness, and high attack power—it was common sense. The other mages, instead of protecting Si Qi, who needed it most, were protecting that reckless short-haired youth. What else could Si Qi do?

If he only dodged without attacking, he would lose his role as the primary damage dealer.

If he attacked but, without his teammates’ protection, was quickly targeted and taken down by the enemy, then there was nothing he could do about it—it simply wasn’t his fault.

Yet others only saw that Si Qi was always the first to fall in every match, and that he often ended up with no achievements at all.

If this situation happened with another team, the seasoned viewers who were into the game would have noticed something wrong long ago. They would have defended Si Qi, pointing out that his teammates’ poor coordination was the real issue, not Si Qi’s fault.

But the audience following Si Qi’s team was mostly idol fans obsessed with good looks. How could they understand the subtle details of the match? They only saw the surface, and immediately started cursing Si Qi for abandoning the team, failing to cooperate, and being the first to die…

Even if a neutral observer corrected them, saying Si Qi was not at fault, his teammates were, they would be labeled as brainless Si Qi fans. They’d be mocked for lying through their teeth, for giving privileges to the good-looking guy, for being simps trying to whitewash Si Qi.

After being bombarded with such foul language once or twice, many neutral viewers simply gave up. They let these people mess around in their own little circles, and so it seemed that justice always stood with the fans.

The agent watched the endless stream of vicious insults scrolling across the screen. He recalled Si Qi’s background and the many false accusations he bore, and immediately understood that Si Qi’s company had no intention of helping him. He shook his head. “This Si Qi is just unlucky.”

Si Qi’s skills were actually decent, and he made no mistakes in the video. His company must have been well aware of his abilities, yet they allowed others to pin all the blame on him. It was even possible that this whole situation was orchestrated by the company from the start, deliberately making Si Qi the scapegoat.

The more the agent thought about it, the more he felt it was unfair to Si Qi.

Such a promising talent, and he was being treated like this?

The agent looked up to watch Si Qi’s subsequent tests. It happened that Si Qi had just finished the earlier basic content and arrived at the final two crucial assessments.

Regrettably, Si Qi’s total mana output was not particularly impressive—at best on par with the teenage trainees nearby. This result made the agent sigh involuntarily.

For a moment, the agent had actually considered whether to let Si Qi join their team.

But rules were rules. With such a low total mana, Si Qi would run out of steam after a few big spells on the field. He wouldn’t be able to keep up with the pace of their Celestial Ring Team.

This one criterion alone was enough to disqualify Si Qi.

The coach also glanced at it and shook his head, clearly indicating that Si Qi was not acceptable.

Only Chu Feng kept watching Si Qi’s movements. Suddenly he said, “Look at Si Qi’s mana recovery speed.”

The agent was puzzled, using a far-sight spell to get a clearer look at the more detailed data feedback.

The coach immediately let out a curious “Huh?” and said, “How is that…”

Chu Feng’s voice carried a hint of admiration. “Although Si Qi’s total mana is relatively low, his recovery speed is very fast.”

The longer a battle lasted, the more spells Si Qi could unleash. In fact, he had an advantage over players with higher mana pools but slower recovery speeds.

The agent thought back to the average mana recovery speed of typical players and said in disbelief, “But his recovery is way too fast!”

This essentially meant he was consuming and absorbing at the same time. Unless Si Qi continuously cast large-scale spells, his total mana wouldn’t show much fluctuation at all!

The coach couldn’t wait any longer and directly called out to those inside, “Si Qi, after you exhaust your mana, about how long does it take you to fully recover?”

Si Qi thought to himself, no wonder they’re a veteran team—they spot the most critical point at a glance. He replied, “Ten minutes in a stationary state. If it’s during combat, about fifteen minutes.”

“Whew—”

Everyone inside and outside the testing room collectively gasped, staring at Si Qi as if he were a monster.

A completely depleted mana pool restored in ten minutes? That meant after Si Qi cast a high-level spell, he could recover his mana in less than three minutes? How could a normal person possibly achieve that!

Si Qi smiled but said nothing.

A normal person couldn’t, of course. But by combining some techniques, it was actually possible.

After mages here exhausted their mana, they basically let their bodies naturally absorb the surrounding mana or directly drank alchemical potions.

But Si Qi noticed that when people in this world used magic, they simultaneously drew mana from the air. That meant if the spellcasting process could be shifted from external to internal, theoretically their bodies could absorb mana quickly as well.

However, the very phrase “spellcasting internally” sounded extremely dangerous. The slightest mistake could lead to severe consequences.

Those who had tried such things in the past ended up badly, so even though everyone knew this method could accelerate mana absorption, no one dared to take the risk.

Now Si Qi had adapted some cultivation techniques from the xianxia world, making localized modifications to achieve an effect similar to spellcasting. The recovery speed was naturally much faster than relying on the body’s natural absorption alone.

Si Qi didn’t plan to hoard this knowledge. With a meaningful tone, he said, “I didn’t use to recover very fast. After realizing my total mana was too low, I figured out a way to speed up my mana recovery on my own.”

The agent was slightly taken aback, quickly catching the implication. The coach reacted even faster, his eyes sharp as a wolf’s, fixed on Si Qi’s face, his breathing becoming rapid.