Three years ago, Zhang Han watched a Koshien live broadcast for the first ti, encouraged by his friends from Matsukata.
At that ti, he was struck by how clear the footage was. The cara angles were rich and varied, every detail captured with care, and the ga itself was thrilling to watch. Even the comntator sounded lively and engaging.
Back then, Zhang Han had only been learning baseball for a few months, and he was deeply impressed by the players' performances on the field.
Since then, the quality of Koshien broadcasts had continued to improve. They even began incorporating elents that felt almost animated, leaning toward a secondary-dinsion style. Outstanding players were given six-dinsional charts that displayed speed, strength, control, and other attributes. So even had cartoon avatars and signature moves designed for them.
When Zhang Han first saw this, he thought it looked ridiculous.
But that was also when he began to realize just how powerful the secondary-dinsion entertainnt industry in this country truly was. It accounted for nearly ten percent of the national GDP.
In Japan, the line between fiction and reality had already started to blur.
At the ti, Zhang Han did not fully grasp what that number ant. Later, after deliberately researching it, he finally understood how massive that ten percent really was.
Although Japan was not large in land area and did not have an especially big population, its total GDP ranked among the top in the world, second only to North Arica and China.
The annual economic output exceeded five trillion US dollars.
Ten percent of that ant more than five hundred billion US dollars.
If that amount were evenly distributed among China's population of 1.4 billion, it would be roughly equivalent to giving every person around 2,500 yuan.
When Zhang Han saw those figures, his feelings were complicated.
But even then, it was still a distant understanding.
He saw it all as an outsider. The numbers were shocking, but they did not truly resonate with him.
That changed now.
Now, Zhang Han was standing on the Koshien stage himself.
Above him, three small drones hovered quietly, while more than a dozen others fild the entire stadium from different angles. Caras and caran were positioned all around the field.
The caran hid themselves in the most inconspicuous corners. If Zhang Han had not deliberately looked, he might not have noticed them at all.
There were even more fixed caras, so many that they were impossible to count.
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It felt unreal.
This kind of scene was sothing Zhang Han had only seen in futuristic animated films.
Now, he was right in the middle of it, standing in the batter's box, facing the bald pitcher from Hosen High School.
Cheers thundered in his ears.
The voices of Seido High School's supporters washed over him in waves.
Despite the noise, Zhang Han's hearing felt unusually sharp.
He vaguely caught the shouts of Kuramochi, Maezono, and the others.
"Zhang Han, hit it!"
"Zhang-san, go!"
Kawakami, listening from the side, could only shrug helplessly.
Why shout so loudly? Did they really think Zhang Han could hear them from this distance, in an environnt this noisy?
In fact, Zhang Han did hear them.
But at this mont, he did not respond.
His attention was entirely focused on the opponent in front of him.
Although the national tournant Zhang Han had participated in before could not compare to Koshien in scale, the experience he gained there was still useful.
To use a less-than-perfect analogy, it was like comparing a marathon to a five-kiloter race.
The distance of a five-kiloter race was nowhere near that of a marathon.
But both were long-distance runs, and certain principles applied to both.
For example, pacing.
In long-distance events, those who sprint recklessly at the start usually end up collapsing at the end.
Because Zhang Han had national tournant experience and did not carry as deep an emotional attachnt to Koshien as many of the upperclassn, he could face this stage with a calr mindset.
He relied on the sa thods he had used before to regulate his ntal state.
How did Zhang Han deal with tension?
He had two personal techniques.
The first was relaxation. He eased ntal pressure through deep breathing and small, almost imperceptible movents.
The second was focus. By concentrating entirely on the task in front of him, nervousness naturally faded away.
That was exactly what he did now.
At first, he was indeed nervous.
But he adjusted quickly.
He stepped into the batter's box, settled his stance, and prepared to swing.
These steps sounded complicated when described, but for Zhang Han, they took only a mont.
Very soon, he returned to his usual state.
He raised the bat high and stared intently at the pitcher's mound.
The bald pitcher stood there, about 1.8 ters tall, with a solid build. His pitches were exceptionally fast.
From the numbers displayed earlier on the electronic speed gun, his fastest pitch had already reached 147 kiloters per hour.
He had struck out Yamada and forced Yuuki to hit a fly ball.
Part of that success ca from Seido's lack of familiarity with their opponent.
But more importantly, it was the result of real ability.
Although the bald pitcher's face looked fierce and his appearance was far from pleasant, his skill was undeniable.
With speed like that, trying to hit his pitches head-on would require so strategy.
Zhang Han deliberately leaned forward, pressing close to the inside edge of the strike zone.
This imdiately put the Hosen catcher on edge.
Zhang Han was effectively sealing off the inside corner.
The pitcher was powerful and threw hard, but his control was not perfect.
With Zhang Han crowding the plate like this, an inside pitch had a high chance of turning into a hit-by-pitch.
This kid is ruthless.
No wonder he beca the team's ace hitter in his first year.
But if you think this will scare us, you're wrong.
The Hosen catcher signaled for an inside pitch.
So it cos down to courage.
Let's see who backs down first.
The ball ca flying in.
Zhang Han stepped back.
The white ball skimd past the edge of the strike zone.
But before the Hosen pitcher and catcher could even feel relief, their expressions froze.
Zhang Han, having retreated half a step, twisted his body and swung the bat in an extrely awkward posture.
"Ping!"
The bat struck the ball.
The baseball arced through the air and dropped cleanly into a gap in Hosen High School's defense.
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