Chapter 26.2 – Let This Be The End
Walking on the street covered with locust flowers, Lin Jiang’s mind was soon consumed by thoughts of the team.
Truth be told, Zhou Wen’s issues were the least concerning in OT—the bigger problems lay with Song Zhixu and A’Deng.
Everyone knew the top lane was a solo path demanding exceptional laning skills—something Song Zhixu clearly lacked. Still, his steady work ethic and eagerness to learn held promise for improvement.
But A’Deng? Lin Jiang had yet to find a good solution for him.
He felt A’Deng played strangely, and he couldn’t explain why.
At 17, a player should be at their sharpest and most agile, and at time, A’Deng did pull off dazzling plays.
But his rhythm…
It was so bad, Lin Jiang couldn’t even describe it.
Sometimes he wondered if his own tempo was simply too fast for A’Deng to follow. During training matches, he’d deliberately slow his pace to let A’Deng take the lead.
But every single time, the team’s rhythm would collapse.
Old Mao had even mocked him mercilessly: “What the hell is up with your jungler? I could pull in any random trainee and they’d outperform him.”
Just remembering it made Lin Jiang’s blood pressure spike.
He had considered replacing A’Deng more than once, but seeing how the kid looked ready to kneel and beg for forgiveness each time, he suddenly didn’t know how to bring it up.
After finishing his coffee, he lit a cigarette. The smoke worked better than the coffee—two puffs and his mind felt clearer.
He took out his personal phone and dialed Zeng Yuan.
“A’Yuan, did you watch OT’s recent matches? What do you think of our jungler, A’Deng?”
“Your jungler? Feels like your team’s playing without one.”
“A’Jiang, dragging OT along like this isn’t a solution. At best, OT’s level is mid-tier—they’re never going to give you the results you want.”
“KUG’s higher-ups actually reached out to me yesterday. Asked if you’d consider coming back. They’re willing to renegotiate your salary, and they say it’s a sincere offer. I was thinking… maybe you should consider it? Coming back to KUG wouldn’t be so bad. It’s familiar territory. We all miss you, man. You have no idea what Alike’s like on our team. We’re all walking on eggshells in the training room—no one even dares to breathe too loud…”
Lin Jiang wouldn’t have remembered KUG at all if Zeng Yuan hadn’t brought it up.
Rubbing his temples, he replied calmly, “I’m fine at OT. Going back isn’t something I’ve considered.”
Zeng Yuan let out a sigh. “Looks like KUG really hurt you this time. But it’s alright—OT’s bot lane is solid. Just swap out the jungler, and things could work. I know you’re soft-hearted, but some things need to be cut off decisively.”
… Replace A’Deng?
A dull ache stirred in Lin Jiang’s chest.
A’Deng was only 17, right at the age where he needed to prove himself. If he got replaced now, he might never get another shot in his life.
Lin Jiang felt a headache coming on. “There really aren’t any decent junglers available right now. And I figure, he’s still young, learns quickly—maybe he’s just one breath away from breaking through. A’Yuan, do you remember when you first came to KUG?”
Zeng Yuan remembered.
Back then, he had also been 17 years old, clueless about many things. It was Lin Jiang who gave him chance after chance—who believed in him when no one else did. That’s how he made it to where he was now.
Thinking of this, his eyes grew slightly moist. “Lin Jiang, remember when SNG’s God Huan came to KUG to apply for the jungler position? Everyone thought he was a better fit for you than me. Why did you vote him out?”
“Ah, that,” Lin Jiang chuckled at the memory. “I just felt you and I were a better match. And you were already close to making it, so I wanted to give you one more shot.”
And it was that one shot that turned Zeng Yuan from an unknown jungler into a player who could stand shoulder-to-shoulder with Lin Jiang.
Opportunities are everything for a rookie.
This might be the only chance A’Deng would ever get to play alongside someone of Lin Jiang’s level. If he lost it, he’d never get it back.
Zeng Yuan made up his mind. “Alright. Send me A’Deng’s contact info—I’ll have a talk with him.”
The weight in Lin Jiang’s heart finally lifted. “Thanks. A’Deng’s not introverted, just a little timid around strong personalities. He might feel pressured talking to you at first, but he’ll get over it in a few days.”
Zeng Yuan laughed, teasing him on purpose. “You’re seriously too considerate. You treat him so well, I’m starting to get jealous.”
“What’s there to be jealous of? I’ve been way kinder to you than to him, countless times more.”
“Yeah, yeah, I remember…”
With A’Deng’s issue resolved, Lin Jiang finally felt at ease.
If Zeng Yuan hadn’t brought it up today, he wouldn’t have realized how long it had been since he last thought about KUG. Lately, his mind had been completely occupied by OT, to the point that even memories from his past life were beginning to fade.
Maybe it was true—people are better off when they’re busy. When you’re busy, there’s no time to feel emo.
He took a hard drag on his cigarette. Same taste, but it felt increasingly hollow with each puff.
Just as he wondered if he’d ended up with a fake pack, a deep black luxury car turned onto the end of the locust-lined street.
Blinding headlights swept across him. As the car approached and Lin Jiang caught sight of the license plate, his steps gradually slowed.
The car came to a stop. The lights pinned him in place—nowhere to hide.
The rear window slid down slowly, and a hand emerged, wrist adorned with a lavish watch.
The watch’s dial was studded with South African blue diamonds—He Gu’s favorite.
Even if Lin Jiang hadn’t recognized the license plate, he would’ve known that watch. He Gu had asked for his opinion when buying it—Lin Jiang had even helped choose that exact model.
He didn’t remember the price.
Just the endless string of zeroes that came after it.
That was the gap between him and He Gu.
The car door opened. He Gu stepped out, clearly just coming from a business meeting. He hadn’t even changed out of his black suit, and the faint scent of alcohol clung to him.
Lin Jiang had once teased him that black suits made him look older. After that, He Gu almost never wore it around him again.
But ever since Lin Jiang left KUG…
He Gu had worn nothing but black suits every time he saw him.
Even if Lin Jiang were a fool, he’d still know what that meant—his departure from KUG had displeased He Gu, and those black suits were his way of showing it.
The car door closed. He Gu removed his gold-rimmed glasses.
“Talk?”
Lin Jiang truly hadn’t expected He Gu to be this insistent. He’d already turned him down once on the phone, and again in the restroom—yet here he was, driving over in the middle of the night just to talk.
“You drove out here at this hour… just to talk?”
“Mm.” He Gu didn’t deny it. “So—talk?”
Lin Jiang realized that the world he was reborn into had truly become strange.
The public opinion that once forced him onto the bench had disappeared. KUG, who had tossed him aside like trash, now came crawling back. Even someone as proud as He Gu had bowed his head again and again.
It almost made him feel like all of it had just been some imagined dream.
He casually stubbed out his cigarette and looked up. “I’m going back to rest.”
Three times, He Gu had come to find him.
Three times, Lin Jiang had turned him down.
Even an ordinary person would lose their temper after that—let alone someone with He Gu’s status.
In the car, the driver and bodyguard silently bowed their heads, pretending not to hear. The bright headlights lit up Lin Jiang’s face, illuminating his indifference and coldness, plain as day.
Only one year apart, and he’d gone from a friend who laughed freely with He Gu…
To a man who now stood there, cold and unmoved.
A soft breeze stirred between them, tinged with the faint smell of alcohol.
He Gu might really have been drunk. He waved for the driver to leave first, He gestured for the driver to leave first, then turned to Lin Jiang and explained, “I didn’t know about the contract. If it hurt you, I owe you an apology.”
Lin Jiang wasn’t having it. “But Alike was signed by you personally, wasn’t he?”
A moment of silence fell between them. He Gu adjusted his tie slightly, uneasy. “I should’ve told you properly. A’Wen is my cousin. My mother asked me to help him, so I signed him. I just wanted him to rotate with you, learn from you. That’s all. I never meant for him to replace you.”
Ah. So that was it.
Rotate with him.
Learn things from him.
That was exactly what management had told Lin Jiang back then—and he had agreed.
Back then, Alike had just arrived at KUG—a wild horse that refused to be tamed. Only Lin Jiang could rein him in, pushing him to focus, to grow, to learn.
When Alike’s aggressive playstyle merged with Lin Jiang’s all-around strategic command, they became an unstoppable force in the esports scene.
That’s how God A, the name that once took LPL by storm, was born.
But the Alike of today? Just an arrogant, reckless player with no one left to hold the reins. He rampaged through the canyon, wild and undisciplined.
And of course, without someone to guide him, he could never bring KUG the kind of glory he once did in the past life.
Lin Jiang let out a quiet laugh. “Did Young Master He ever consider that a five-year contract would trap me in KUG? If you had told me earlier that you signed Alike, I would’ve left on my own. But you didn’t—because deep down, you knew. You knew that only when I had no other choice… would I agree to rotate with Alike, isn’t that right?”
In this life, Lin Jiang had made it to Worlds three times and won two championships.
But the title he wanted most—Triple Crown Champion—had always been just out of reach.
That was his dream. His lifelong goal.
“Everyone says OT can’t give me what I want. But the truth is, KUG never could either.”
“Young Master He, why don’t we make a bet? Bet on whether I can lead OT to achieve the dream you think is worthless.”
“When that day comes, let everyone see—Was it me who couldn’t leave KUG or it was JUG who was never anything without me?”
Lin Jiang finished speaking, flicking the cigarette butt into the trash with a clean, sharp motion—as if he was tossing away a piece of garbage, a burden he no longer wished to carry.
“Young Master He, don’t come looking for me anymore.”
“Let this be the end.”
A fierce wind swept past between them, like a silent yet grand standoff.
Truthfully, Lin Jiang didn’t know if he could win against He Gu. But he knew that as long as he made up his mind, he could at least defeat his past self and seize a chance to change his fate.
Under the dim light, He Gu’s emotions were all hidden in the shadows of the trees, half visible, half concealed.
Lin Jiang couldn’t see clearly, nor did he want to.
He turned and retraced his steps, throwing away the cigarette butt as if discarding his unbearable past.
His movements felt lighter, clearer—every step more confident than before.
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