'Hard to beat a guy who's unpredictable and lucky.'
Hao let out a quiet hum.
Yeah. That sounded about right.
Ji Yunzhi had only played three games. Three.
And yet, each one looked like a completely different person had taken the cue.
From bumbling beginner to near-flawless shotmaker, it was absurd how fast he adapted. His talent wasn't just in execution, but in correction.
Every shot he missed before? Turned into data. Every awkward move? Logged, adjusted, refined.
It was like watching someone fail basic sword forms in the morning, and by afternoon, they're slicing through falling leaves with pinpoint precision.
If he were a script, he was rewriting himself on the fly.
Hao's eyes drifted back to the table.
If Old Tiger Zhao had a win condition, it was speed. He needed to end the game fast - before Ji Yunzhi's brain turned the table into another solved puzzle.
Because if this went on long enough… the bald alchemist was going to clean it up.
