"Three pitches, three outs!"
"What a performance—absolutely incredible!!!"
The supporters of Seidou High School roared in excitement.
Zhou Hao's dominance on the mound once again shattered their expectations.
In the top of the third inning, he had retired three batters with only three pitches, treating Seisho High School's lineup as if they were nothing more than practice dummies.
"Zhou-senpai!!"
"Invincible!!!"
"You're the best—!"
At this moment, the Seidou supporters truly felt that Zhou Hao was on a level of his own.
The three star pitchers each had their own extraordinary skills, and they were undeniably geniuses.
But Zhou Hao?
He was something above even that.
In Seisho's dugout, their Coach's eyes were bloodshot.
He stared at his players, forcing out each word through clenched teeth.
"…Tell me. What on earth was that?"
No matter how he tried to reason it out, he couldn't comprehend why his players had suddenly acted as if possessed, ignoring every instruction he gave.
"A normal straight pitch… right down the middle, and we—"
He didn't need to finish.
Everyone knew what came next.
When they saw a juicy pitch right over the plate, they swung at it automatically.
What elite batter wouldn't?
If they didn't react to such a perfect ball, they had no right to call themselves sluggers of a powerhouse school.
"That was a trap! Do you idiots not know who you're dealing with!?"
The Coach's voice was hoarse from shouting.
He didn't want to raise the enemy's morale, nor humiliate his own players—but if he didn't drill this lesson into their heads right now, they would slip on the same stone again.
"Think carefully! Why would the opponent feed you such a perfect pitch? Because he's feeling generous? Because he wants to do charity? Of course not! He's tricking you into swinging so he can conserve stamina! Three innings, and that kid has thrown less than twenty pitches! Originally, we could've waited him out and hit Yoshida later. But now? We have no choice but to try and score off Zhou Hao directly!"
One-third of the game was over.
Zhou Hao's expression was unchanged.
His breathing was steady.
Even under the scorching 31°C heat, he didn't look fazed—there wasn't even sweat on his forehead.
The Coach felt a vein twitch in his temple.
"Swinging isn't forbidden, but the first swing should be for observation. Don't hit the ball unless you're sure. If you can force him to throw a ball outside the zone, even better. And if anyone repeats what just happened—I'll substitute you immediately. We have plenty of bench players."
Despite everything, he didn't change their macro strategy.
Truthfully, it wasn't their fault.
Zhou Hao's pitching level was simply too high.
Even with their batting strength, hitting him was nearly impossible.
So burning through his stamina was their only option.
Honorable or not, it was their only path.
"If we hang on until the later innings, our chance will come."
After confirming all his players understood, the Coach looked toward his own Ace.
"…Akutsu, I'm counting on you."
Bottom of the third. Seidou at bat.
"Ping!"
Yoshida's hit flew high into the air.
"Snap!"
"Out!"
It dropped straight into the fielder's glove.
"One out, no runners."
Yoshida returned to the dugout with a sour expression.
After swinging, he realized Akutsu had aimed for him on purpose.
"This damn bastard… using me as a test case?"
He understood Akutsu's intention instantly.
But when he passed Isashiki-senpai, planning to warn him, the words caught in his throat.
Isashiki had batting habits, rhythms, and instincts.
A careless warning would only interfere with his judgment.
"Petty tricks… He thinks he's clever."
Yoshida grumbled as he sat down.
"Ping!"
A moment later, Isashiki Jun swung on the first pitch.
The ball soared fifty, sixty meters into the outfield.
The Seisho outfielder sprinted desperately and, at the last second—
"Snap!"
"Out!"
Two outs.
The Seidou supporters let out a collective groan of regret.
So close.
That could've been a hit.
But Seisho was a national powerhouse for a reason—this was the level of their defense.
Then came the ninth batter.
"Ping!"
He swung at the second pitch.
The grounder bounced toward shortstop.
"Snap!"
"Out!"
"Three outs, change!"
Again, Seidou's supporters sighed.
Their bottom order had performed well—plenty of pressure, but still no hit.
But not everyone felt the same.
In the stands, hidden behind a hat and a mask, sat a certain pitcher.
Kuroda.
The former Ace of Osaka Kiryu.
Even after elimination, he returned alone to watch this matchup.
Both pitchers—Zhou Hao and Akutsu—were worth studying.
And as he watched the inning unfold, a different thought came to his mind—one no one else noticed.
"…Too bold."
Great skill breeds great confidence.
Though the inning looked dangerous, Akutsu clearly achieved exactly what he wanted.
Three outs with only four pitches.
On the surface, it looked like he was mirroring Zhou Hao.
But Kuroda saw deeper.
The real goal—
Conserve stamina. Pitch a complete game.
Zhou Hao had the same ambition.
This was turning into a historic pitcher's duel.
Kuroda clenched his fist.
An unprecedented showdown at Koshien… and he wasn't part of it.
How ironic.
In Seidou's dugout, others noticed it too.
"Four pitches and three outs…"
The contrast with Zhou Hao was unmistakable.
Their duel was textbook perfection.
"Whoever scores first… wins the advantage."
Miyuki spoke calmly.
Both sides' strongest hitters were coming up soon.
Especially their Aces, who also served as their team's cleanup hitters.
Everyone would be watching.
Top of the fourth. Seisho at bat.
The leadoff batter stepped in, his stance far more serious than the lower order.
Chris narrowed his eyes.
This guy didn't receive the same orders.
This was a targeted plan.
The strategy used in the third inning wouldn't work again.
"Ready for this?" Chris signaled.
Zhou Hao nodded.
He'd already thought everything through.
"Then go."
Zhou Hao wound up with a deliberately small motion and threw a slow, soft pitch.
The Seisho leadoff batter could barely resist the urge to swing.
Zhou Hao's intention was crystal clear—he knew the batter wouldn't swing.
A trap.
The batter clenched his teeth in frustration.
No wonder his teammates had been tricked earlier.
This guy was infuriating.
No rhythm to read.
No patterns to analyze.
Just a pitcher playing mind games.
The pitch landed in Chris's mitt.
"Snap!"
"Strike!"
Chris smirked slightly.
"They're scared of you already…"
Even with a perfect pitch to hit, the batter didn't dare swing.
Seeing this, Chris didn't hesitate—he signed for another deceptive pitch.
Zhou Hao grinned.
Never trust Chris's thick eyebrows and serious face.
When he wanted to be dirty, he was dirtier than anyone.
"Swoosh!"
The second pitch looked identical.
The batter trembled.
How dare they do this twice!?
The first pitch, fine—
But this?
This was open provocation.
He swung, furious.
"Ping!"
The ball flew about seventy meters—
But then started to fall.
Isashiki Jun sprinted under it.
"Snap!"
"Out!"
One out.
The Seisho Coach almost spat blood.
"Why!? WHY!?"
The plan was to tire Zhou Hao out, not swing recklessly!
Couldn't his players see the trap!?
Did they think they were home run hitters!?
"You have an ENTIRE infield to aim for! WHY THE OUTFIELD!?"
"Second batter, number 1—Akutsu."
The Coach nearly collapsed.
Today was going to kill him.