Chapter 32: The Thrill of the Game Lies in the Heartbeat

The armored team's members did not celebrate; they knew the match was far from over, and the Bamboo Grove Gentlemen faced a formidable and spirited opponent.

Victory, of course, would be won head-on—or so one might think, but in truth, it called for cunning.

Han Chong was gasping for breath, nearly out of wind, a sight that Rohan could barely tolerate.

Rohan said, "They always say soldiers are in fine shape, but look at you—utterly spent, as if you've just staggered out of a brothel."

Han Chong replied between ragged breaths, "Who… who says I'm not fit… Those bastards struck my vital energy line, that's all…"

Rohan asked, "Vital energy line? And where exactly is that?"

The question caught Han Chong off guard, leaving the moment awkward. He simply pointed to a spot near his own stomach.

Rohan nodded, "Well, you'd better protect that energy line. Otherwise, next time, just spit your inner strength right in their faces—we might just win yet."

The crowd buzzed with speculation about how the match would unfold.

The Third Young Master remarked, "The Bamboo Grove Gentlemen may call themselves gentlemen, but they're not above using tricks."

Prince Song snorted, "Gentlemen? From the look of them, their luck is about to run dry. When fortune is spent, the heavens will surely punish them."

Finding the match dull, Prince Song turned his attention elsewhere and struck up a conversation with Prefect Lu.

"Prefect Lu, this match is dreadfully dull."

"Dull?" Prefect Lu, bored of cherries, sipped his tea to pass the time. "Life itself is dull, isn't it? We're here for a bit of amusement, Your Highness."

"Your Highness? That was in the last dynasty. If not for His Majesty's forbearance, I'd have lost my head already."

Prefect Lu chuckled, "As long as Your Highness understands. Best to keep a low profile and not disturb His Majesty. The eyes above see all." His words carried a veiled warning; Prince Song nodded repeatedly and fell silent.

A mysterious scholar stroked his beard, alternately writing and pausing, his gaze darting about as he tried his best to remain inscrutable, a thoughtful air about him.

Lady Jun Tao watched Rohan caper about the field like a monkey, finding him utterly endearing. She hid her smile behind her fan, clearly delighted.

Meanwhile, the oil on Little Zhi's trousers had left a stain that looked for all the world like he'd wet himself.

The match continued! Rohan served, passing the ball deftly to Han Chong, who nearly lost his balance, prompting a laugh from Grey Armor.

Red Armor, hopping about, rallied his teammates: "Don't be fooled by them! They're sly as foxes—who knows what tricks they have up their sleeves!"

Han Chong's companions cheered raucously, their voices thunderous. Prince Song, growing impatient, covered his ears and whispered secret instructions to his attendant.

The attendant slipped away, and soon, near the stage, cries of "Armored Team!" rose up, rousing a group of spectators to join in.

Many in the audience, unsure what was happening, joined the shouting simply for the excitement, and the scene became chaotic.

Little Zhi wiped the sweat from his brow. Sensing things taking a strange turn, Rohan clapped him on the shoulder.

"It's time to play our trump card. Little Zhi, are you ready?"

The match resumed, and this time Little Zhi took the opening. His awkward, twisting movements made one wonder if he was born with some odd deformity—his coordination was laughable.

Yet with such a gait, Grey Armor could not anticipate his intent or direction, nearly letting him slip past.

Rohan moved to support him. Little Zhi, after passing the ball to him, fumbled in his waistband for something unknown.

Red Armor, rushing to intercept, collided with Little Zhi just as he retrieved a fistful of wet, sticky substance. His legs were now soaked, his face a picture of misery.

The crowd erupted.

"Look! The little guy wet his pants!"

"Hahaha! Is this a comedy act? How shameful!"

"A grown man playing ball and ends up like this? Armored Team for the win!"

The laughter swelled into a wave, pressing down on the field.

Red Armor sneered, "Well, you can’t blame me for hurting you now! Wet yourself, ha!"

Little Zhi's face burned crimson. At last he drew out a large, soggy mass from his waistband, then sidled up to Red Armor, feigning a tumble and slyly smeared the stuff onto Red Armor's clothing and the floor.

Rohan was intercepted by Yellow Armor. Seeing Han Chong charging in, Yellow Armor tried to pass to Grey Armor in the distance, but the gap was too great and had to settle for a short pass to Red Armor, eagerly awaiting at the side.

A clever pass—Red Armor, poised, lunged forward, but suddenly his heel slipped; he crashed to the floor, head striking the boards! The ball rolled straight to Little Zhi!

Yellow and Grey Armor stared in disbelief—how could he miss such an easy pass?

Little Zhi still had some distance to "Lustful Eye," but Rohan had already surged closer, signaling for the ball. Little Zhi understood and delivered a powerful kick.

The ball twisted in a rainbow arc, soaring over Yellow Armor and Rohan alike, and went straight into the "Lustful Eye" goal!

The crowd was stunned, then erupted in wild cheers!

The referee declared, "Goal! Another point for the Bamboo Grove Gentlemen!"

Red Armor, battered and bruised, lifted his head, a swelling already forming on his forehead. Grey Armor glared furiously, while Yellow Armor hauled Red Armor to his feet.

Yellow Armor chided, "If you can't play, don't force it."

Red Armor explained hastily, "I slipped…"

Grey Armor barked, "Slipped on that brat's piss? You've shamed our prince!"

Red Armor hung his head; with the ball lost at his feet, he had no defense.

Han Chong, wild with excitement, moved to embrace his brother, but seeing the wet patch between Little Zhi's legs, he hesitated, embarrassed.

"Little Zhi… don’t worry! Big brother knows you did well."

Little Zhi replied, mortified, "Brother, it’s not what you think… but I've really put my dignity on the line."

Rohan, understanding perfectly, clapped both Little Zhi and Han Chong on the back in encouragement.

"Give it all you’ve got! Victory is within reach!"

The match grew ever more intense, its course wildly diverging from expectations. Prince Song, sweating profusely, shouted in agitation, "It's rigged! Rigged, I say!"

The Third Young Master, seeing his distress, began to worry and handed him a handkerchief to wipe his brow.

Prince Song, not noticing, stuffed the handkerchief into his mouth, leaving the Third Young Master dumbfounded, unsure what to do.

Prefect Lu rested his cheek in his hand, eyes fixed on Han Xiaozhi. Prince Song's expression grew ever more grave, as if mourning the dead; his cries of "rigged!" dwindled, his gaze dull and lifeless.

In contrast, the Third Young Master was all smiles. He exchanged a knowing gesture with Old Lin in the audience, offering praise.

Rohan, elated with his newfound agility, felt light as a swallow. For someone never blessed with athletic prowess, he was now the center of the crowd’s attention.

The final ball was kicked from Yellow Armor's feet. Suddenly, Rohan felt something was wrong—his head spun, his legs turned leaden, and his mind fogged over.

A red warning flashed in his vision: "Stamina" plummeting, "Fatigue" rising. His body no longer obeyed him, as though he were dragging several tractors—utterly exhausted!

Yellow Armor easily bypassed Han Chong, barreled forward with Han Xiaozhi clinging to him like a hermit crab, swaying but refusing to be shaken off. Little Zhi used all his weight to hinder Yellow Armor’s dribbling—at last they reached Rohan.

Han Chong, at midfield, clung to Red Armor's leg with one hand and Grey Armor’s back with the other, confidently awaiting Rohan’s interception.

Yellow Armor and Rohan met! Yellow Armor feinted, but Rohan was motionless. Without hesitation, Yellow Armor sent the ball straight into the "Lustful Eye" goal.

Two to two!

The crowd was thunderstruck; the game had turned once more.

A gleam of triumph shone in Prince Song’s eyes—he was suddenly invigorated and shouted, "Well done!"

Now it was the Third Young Master who stood frozen, his fan tumbling from his hand in shock.

Lady Jun Tao watched worriedly, noticing Rohan’s strange state.

Rohan trembled violently, a chill wracking his body with pain.

Damn it! At this critical moment—just a little more, just a little more!