A week later, on Sunday—
Zhang Han arrived at the baseball field of City University No. 3 High School, one of the top powerhouse schools in West Tokyo.
Wealth really did make a difference. The sheer scale of the training facilities left Zhang Han speechless.
If he could train here long-term, it would be a dream.
Unfortunately, getting in wasn't as simple as being impressed by the scenery.
Even with Coach Ono Binzhi's recommendation and his own reputation, at most, he'd get an exam-free admission slot—useful for those struggling academically to enter a prestigious school.
But for Zhang Han?
That was just a chicken rib—tasteless yet hard to throw away.
His grades were good enough to pass on merit. The real issue was money.
This time, he was here to participate in City University High's private talent selection.
According to Coach Ono, standout performers in this tryout wouldn't just earn a full tuition and boarding waiver—they might even receive financial rewards.
Even though Zhang Han's situation as a foreign student made things tricky, Coach Ono remained confident.
Once inside the campus, Zhang Han reported and was handed his participant number: #36.
A lucky number, he thought.
All the players here came from either feeder schools or Little League teams partnered with City University High. The school held this annual "talent show" because their official recruitment slots were limited, and they had far too many feeder systems to choose from.
To solve this dilemma, someone at the school had come up with this trial-based selection system:
A few admission spots were set aside, and the players from all the partner organizations competed for them.
That way, City University High could ensure it recruited only the most outstanding prospects.
As for those who didn't make the cut?
Too bad. This was one of the top schools in the country, a regular visitor to Koshien. They didn't want just anyone.
Zhang Han and the other candidates stood in line, waiting for instructions. Their profiles and positions had already been sent in advance.
He expected to go through the usual physical tests and fundamental drills—he had even trained for them all week.
But the school's head coach, Supervisor Tahara, quickly shattered that illusion.
"You boys are all stars at your respective schools. I don't see the point in testing your fundamentals. We've already received your full profiles from your coaches. That information will be part of our evaluation criteria."
A few simple words, yet they sent blood rushing through the crowd's veins.
Everyone here was a team ace, a core player somewhere.
And yet, ever since arriving, they had been getting the cold shoulder—ignored by current team members and staff alike.
They were proud. They were frustrated. Some were even ready to walk away.
But now? After just a few sentences from Supervisor Tahara?
Their spirits were lifted.
At last—someone who understood their value!
Zhang Han remained hidden in the crowd, watching as the others straightened up with renewed pride.
He's good, Zhang Han thought. Really good. Knows exactly how to manipulate people.
One minute ago, these "geniuses" were sulking, ready to leave. Now, they couldn't wait to show off.
They wanted to impress the supervisor, prove their worth—not just for a spot on the team, but to slap the arrogant regulars in the face.
"No more speeches. Let's form teams and compete!"Supervisor Tahara's words cut straight to the point.
Suddenly, the confident smiles on the players' faces froze.
Compete?
If they had to go head-to-head with City University's first-string regulars, wasn't that basically asking for a beating?
Even the cocky ones knew better than to underestimate top-tier high school seniors.
Those players had gone through three years of elite training. Even if you were a genius, how could you catch up in just your final year of junior high?
"Relax," Tahara continued. "You won't be facing our starting lineup. Instead, you'll compete against our first-year players. They've only been in high school for six months. Their level is closer to yours."
That was a relief.
Sure, City High's first-years weren't pushovers—some were already rising stars—but at least it wasn't impossible.
They were just one year older, after all.
Confidence surged through the group again.
Many of these hopefuls had experience playing against adult amateur teams and holding their own. Against other teenagers? They stood a chance.
Zhang Han, however, wasn't as optimistic.
He knew a few of City High's first-year players. Old rivals. Players he had a hard time beating even last year.
Now? With a whole year of high school training behind them?
The odds weren't in his favor.
To make matters worse, Zhang Han's current "team" was just a random group of talented misfits.
They were skilled, yes. But would they play like a team?
Doubtful.
But none of that mattered anymore. The trial match was starting.
Zhang Han was in the third rotation to take the field.