By the fifth inning, the scoreboard was rciless:
8 – 0.
The Seido High School Baseball Team led by eight full runs.
In the top of the fourth, Teito had clung to a fragile hope.
Their core batters were due up.
If they could score even once—just once—the montum might shift.
But Seido made no substitutions.
Zhou Hao remained on the mound.
And the stands erupted.
Anyone familiar with Coach Kataoka understood what this ant.
If Zhou Hao stayed in—
Seido wasn't just trying to win.
They were trying to end it early.
"Are they seriously calculating a called ga?"
"This is Teito we're talking about!"
"Even last year's Seido didn't dare think like this!"
"It has to be Coach Kataoka's decision…"
"It's coming—I can feel it!"
Excitent and disbelief mixed in the air.
Zhou Hao wound up.
No hesitation.
Boom!
The baseball exploded from his hand like thunder rolling across the sky.
Teito's leadoff batter in the inning froze.
Wasn't his top speed 150 km/h?
Back in the first inning, Zhou Hao had already touched that number. Logically, that should have been his peak—early ga, fresh stamina.
But this pitch—
It was faster.
Sharper.
More violent.
Even with total focus, the batter couldn't follow it.
By the ti his eyes adjusted—
The ball was already buried deep in Chris's glove.
Strike!
Another fastball.
Another strike.
Another strikeout.
Teito's hopes of turning the tide vanished quietly.
They went down in order.
When the inning ended, even their supporters could feel it.
The ga had slipped beyond reach.
Even bringing in a relief pitcher now would change little.
At best, they could stop the bleeding.
But the outco?
Already written.
Top of the fifth.
Teito's fourth batter stepped up for his second at-bat.
The stands fell strangely quiet.
They wanted to cheer him on.
They wanted to shout encouragent.
But facing Zhou Hao—
The words wouldn't co.
As long as Zhou Hao stood on the mound, he radiated an aura that crushed resistance before it ford.
Confidence?
It dissolved the mont you t his gaze.
anwhile, Zhou Hao looked calm. Commanding.
As if orchestrating a drill, not a battle.
Despite overwhelming velocity, he still gestured to adjust his infielders.
Shift left.
Deeper right.
Subtle changes.
Teito's fourth batter narrowed his eyes.
Bluffing?
He was no rookie. He could see the intent.
Zhou Hao was planting doubt.
But even seeing through it—
Didn't help.
Because once Zhou Hao began his motion, those defensive adjustnts lingered in his mind like ghosts.
Is he setting up a fishing pitch?
The thought flashed—
Too late.
Boom!
Snap!
"Strike!"
Before frustration could surface—
Another pitch.
Even faster.
Boom!
Snap!
"Strike!!"
Two pitches.
Two strikes.
The batter hadn't even completed a full swing.
Cornered instantly.
The Teito supporters stared, stunned.
How?
How could this be happening?
No one had an answer.
Zhou Hao delivered the third pitch.
Desperation finally forced the swing.
The bat cut through empty air.
Snap!
No contact.
"Strike!"
"Strikeout!!"
The Seido cheering section exploded.
In their first matchup, Zhou Hao had struck out three with pure fastballs.
Now, in the second round—
He looked even stronger.
Still fastballs.
Still untouchable.
And this ti, the victim was Teito's cleanup hitter.
A core batter.
The sensation rippled through Seido's supporters like electricity.
It was intoxicating.
"So what if they're a national powerhouse?"
"Anyone who faces us ets the sa fate!"
"If they haven't collapsed yet, it's only because their ntal strength is impressive!"
It wasn't mockery.
It was genuine awe.
Teito's players hadn't given up.
Hadn't fallen apart.
Under this level of pressure—
That alone was remarkable.
But admiration didn't change reality.
Zhou Hao stood on the mound.
Unshaken.
Unreachable.
And the fifth inning—
Was only just beginning.
Teito's fifth batter stepped into the box.
He didn't collapse outright.
But the composure on his face had already cracked.
Everything unfolding before them was far removed from what they had imagined.
They had heard Zhou Hao's title countless tis.
They knew he was strong.
But this?
This was sothing else entirely.
Their cleanup hitter—soone they trusted completely—had been overwheld without even putting the ball in play.
If even he couldn't touch Zhou Hao's fastball…
What hope did anyone else have?
At the very least, Teito's fifth batter knew one thing clearly—
He wasn't better than the cleanup.
When the pitch ca, he could only grit his teeth and swing.
Whoosh!
The bat tore through the air.
Too slow.
The white blur passed through the strike zone first.
Snap!
It buried itself into Chris's glove.
"Strike!!"
Teito's supporters had believed they were already numb.
Zhou Hao had long since shattered their understanding of dominance.
They thought they were prepared for anything.
But seeing their batter swing that late—
They broke.
"What was that swing?!"
"How can he possibly hit like that?"
"When did we beco this weak?"
When frustration builds with no outlet, it looks for a target.
And in that mont—
The fifth batter beca the scapegoat.
Even though deep down they understood.
Even though they knew the real reason stood sixty feet away on the mound.
Still—
The anger had to go sowhere.
The batter clenched his fists.
He didn't want this result either.
But whether he accepted it or not—
Reality didn't care.
Another pitch.
Another blur.
Another empty swing.
"Strike!"
"Strikeout!!"
"Strikeout!!!"
Three outs.
Side retired.
Top of the fifth inning ended.
The scoreboard remained brutal:
8 – 0.
Seido was now just two runs away from triggering an early end.
Bottom of the fifth.
Teito had already replaced their ace in the fourth inning, sending in a first-year rookie.
It was that rookie who had barely stabilized the situation, preventing further collapse in the fourth.
Now—
He faced Seido's core.
"Third batter, number one — pitcher, Zhou Hao!"
The stadium erupted.
No matter how well the team had played before, the atmosphere changed the mont Zhou Hao stepped in.
It was reassurance.
Confidence.
As long as he was there—
Everything felt solvable.
Still, a shadow lingered.
The rookie had surprised them.
The ninth batter had fallen quietly.
But then—
Even Kuramochi and Kominato had failed to produce against him.
A subtle unease had crept into the Seido stands.
What if this inning drags?
An early end in five innings was very different from one in seven.
Letting the opponent stretch it out felt unacceptable.
With Zhou Hao at the plate, though—
Hope surged back instantly.
On the mound, Teito's rookie locked eyes with him.
Excitent burned in his gaze.
"Zhou Hao-senpai…"
There was admiration there.
But no fear.
He had been specially promoted because of his talent.
Much like Amahisa Kousei from Ichidai San High School Baseball Team, he possessed natural gifts.
Raw.
Unpolished.
But real.
He raised his glove.
Set his stance.
And fired.
Whoosh!
The ball scread toward the plate.
Behind it, Teito's starting catcher watched with widened eyes.
Please…
If they could just retire Zhou Hao.
If they could just win this one battle—
Montum would flicker back to life.
That tiny spark would be priceless.
At the plate—
Zhou Hao felt it instantly.
Different.
Unlike the forr ace, this pitch had vitality.
It carried life.
Movent.
Threat.
But—
It was immature.
Incomplete.
The potential was there.
The execution wasn't.
Troubleso?
Yes.
Dangerous?
Not yet.
As the ball entered his hitting zone—
Zhou Hao's stance tightened.
His bat exploded forward.
BOOM!!
The air itself seed to shudder.
Teito's catcher felt his eardrums tremble.
So strong…
Before the thought finished—
Ping!!!
The ball rocketed skyward.
High.
Blazing against the open sky.
Tens of thousands of eyes followed the white speck in silence.
Up.
Higher.
And still rising—
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