Producing another trainer like Kenji was an impossible dream—unless, of course,
they also happened to wake up with a System.
Riding Kenji's coattails, Director He had been promoted to Vice Principal. With
the current Principal of tropolis Academy only two years away from retirent,
it was an open secret that He would soon take the reins.
Now, every top-tier high school graduate in the country fought tooth and nail to
get into tropolis. First, because it was the birthplace of the youngest Grand
Champion in Huaxia history. Second, because the school's resource allocation had
finally surpassed that of the Imperial Academy.
Once, tropolis had to settle for the "scraps" left behind by the Capital. Now,
the tables had turned. The Imperial Academy was left picking through the
students tropolis rejected. If you couldn't get into tropolis, you "settled"
for the Capital.
Kenji returned to the academy occasionally to give guest lectures. His old
lakeside villa was never reassigned; it remained empty, eventually becoming a
holy site for tourism and student tradition. Almost every freshman made a
"pilgrimage" to the front gates of Kenji's villa to bow and pray for good RNG
before their first captures.
Two years flew by in a blur of steady progress.
The world remained remarkably stable. The most frustrating thing for Kenji was
that wtwo had remained completely off the grid. Even the once-frequent
sightings of Legendary Pokémon had tapered off, returning to their natural,
near-mythical rarity.
Years ago, Kenji had feared wtwo's vengeance against the Huaxia League. Now?
Kenji wasn't afraid. He was waiting. If wtwo ever decided to show its face,
his team was ready to teach the clone a lesson in humility. Deep down, Kenji—who
grew up on the Pokémon ani—still harbored a secret desire to add the ultimate
psychic lifeform to his roster.
One afternoon, Kenji sat on his sofa and tore open a heavy, wax-sealed envelope.
At the top of the parchnt, embossed in gold, were the words: World League
Championship: Official Participant Pass.
Kenji's lips curled into a smirk. He had waited a long ti for this. He was
ready to give the global Leagues a "little taste" of the shock and awe that the
ancient East was capable of. He tossed the invitation onto the coffee table and
stood up, stretching his limbs.
He hadn't participated in a high-stakes, professional match in two years. His
partners were getting restless. The training was done; it was ti for the
harvest.
In the sa room, Zhurong Yun sat with his legs crossed, dressed in a casual
tracksuit that made him look more like a retired grandfather than a forr
Champion. He held an identical invitation in his hand.
"Aside from our League, the Champions of the other major Asian powers haven't
changed since the last circuit," Zhurong Yun noted, providing a brief dossier on
the competition.
He ran through the nas:
Sang-hyeon Han, the Champion of the Goryeo (Korea) League. A Ghost-type
specialist whose ace was a terrifying Chandelure.
Shigesuke Matsumoto, the Champion of the Neon (Japan) League. He was a unique
tactician who balanced Water and Steel types, with a ga Scizor as his primary
weapon.
"Matsumoto is arguably the second strongest in Asia after myself," Yun added.
"The only reason he could never beat was that my Blaziken was a hard counter
to his entire philosophy. Between the Phoenix blessing and the typing advantage,
I was his natural predator."
Then there was the Champion of the Bharat (India) League, a man nad Gange.
Kenji's face twisted as Yun described him. Gange was... eccentric. He claid to
have no interest in human won, instead surrounding himself with a "harem" of
female Pokémon like Miltank and Salazzle. Rumor had it he even ran a specialized
breeding farm for Salazzle that doubled as his private estate.
"He's a freak," Kenji muttered.
"Maybe," Yun shrugged. "But he's a powerful freak. He specializes in Fire-types,
and his Incineroar is a world-class brawler."
The list went on—the Champions of the Persian and Crescent Leagues were no
pushovers either.
Kenji listened but wasn't overly concerned. If Pokémon battling was a ga of
poker, Kenji was currently sitting at the table with a hand full of nuclear
warheads. He couldn't even fathom how to be "humble" at this point.
As the opening day of the World Championship approached, the global discourse
reached a fever pitch.
At the center of every headline, every forum post, and every news broadcast was
one na: Kenji.
The dia was split. In Huaxia, he was a god. In rival regions like the Neon
League, however, the press was far more hostile. They deployed armies of
internet trolls and "analysts" to sar his reputation, claiming his rise was a
fluke or the result of a weakened Huaxia field.
"Stay off the internet for a few weeks," Zhurong Yun advised, patting Kenji on
the shoulder. "Don't let the noise ss with your head."
Yun knew how toxic the global stage could be, but he was slightly worried for
Kenji. After all, despite his power, the boy was still just a teenager.
Kenji looked at his phone, then back at Yun. He didn't look hurt. He looked
bored.
"Don't worry, Uncle Yun," Kenji said, a cold glint in his eyes. "The best way to
silence a dog isn't to argue with it. It's to kick its teeth in."
♧♧♧
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