The pitch speed flashed onto the massive electronic scoreboard.
Even though Seidou's supporters had mentally prepared themselves…
The moment that number appeared, their lungs tightened and their hearts skipped a beat.
It was terrifying—absurdly terrifying.
In the Seibō High School dugout, the players stared wide-eyed at the screen. Some rubbed their eyes furiously, convinced they were hallucinating.
But when they looked again…
150 km/h.
The number shone brighter than reality itself.
Seibō's head coach—recognizable by his comically bulbous, bright-red nose—looked as though someone had slapped him awake. His nostrils flared, his eyes bulged, and his jaw nearly hit the floor.
"How… how is this possible?"
He muttered the words like a man in denial.
But the scoreboard didn't lie. That number burned there as if mocking them: 150 km/h.
"If it were a straight fastball, maybe. But a 150 km/h Spiral Ball? Are you kidding me!?"
"The kid is only fifteen!!!"
Even Seibō's assistant coach looked like he'd forgotten how to breathe.
They had seen geniuses before—many of them. They were a powerhouse, after all.
But none of those geniuses could do this.
A first-year throwing a breaking pitch over 150 km/h?
Unheard of. Ridiculous. Impossible.
They desperately wondered if they were seeing wrong.
But while they doubted, the ball was already back in Zhou Hao's hand.
He calmly raised his leg.
And fired again.
BOOM!
Nishihiro, Seibō's leadoff batter, felt his nerves coil like springs. He didn't even blink as he fixated on the incoming ball.
The Spiral Ball shot past him like a white tornado.
SNAP!
"Strike!"
Two strikes in an instant.
But people barely paid attention to Zhou Hao anymore—they were glued to the scoreboard, waiting.
The numbers flickered…
150.5 km/h.
A mere 0.5 km increase—but enough to prove it wasn't an illusion.
The pitch was real. The speed was real.
The nightmare was very real.
Zhou Hao's Surprise
On the mound, even Zhou Hao raised an eyebrow.
He hadn't pitched in the previous game… and he genuinely didn't know his Spiral Ball had reached this level.
Was his Level 3 Spiral Ball evolving into Level 4?
He shook his head.
No—it wasn't there yet. His accumulated experience was still far from the threshold. Even a full year might not be enough.
So why the sudden jump?
Then he realized:
It wasn't the Spiral Ball improving—
it was him.
Ever since joining Seidou, he had trained relentlessly with his seniors. The system boosted his growth, yes—but his own effort had been massive, even if overshadowed.
His body had grown stronger. His form more refined.
The "hidden" improvement simply burst out now.
A tiny increase of 2–3 km/h…
But enough to completely transform his Spiral Ball.
And enough to shatter Seibō's spirit.
Zhou Hao exhaled calmly and threw his third pitch.
BOOM!!
The crowd erupted.
"AWESOME!!!"
"Sweep them away, our Ace!!!"
In the batter's box, Nishihiro's soul quietly left his body.
Why… why did this have to happen to him?
They had prepared so much. They had trained against 145 km/h Spiral Balls from a pitching machine, desperately trying to adapt.
He thought if he could just make contact—even once—it could shake Seidou's rhythm.
But this?
150 km/h Spiral Ball.
What human could hit that?
The answer was simple: not him.
SNAP!
"Strike!"
"Strike!!"
"Strikeout!!!"
He swung late—his bat didn't even reach halfway before the ball was in the glove.
Seibō's Despair
Their dugout fell silent.
They all knew Nishihiro's skill. He was reliable, adaptable, experienced.
Yet he didn't touch the ball. Not even once.
It was humiliating. Crushing.
"Impossible…"
Two outs, bases empty.
The second batter stepped in. He didn't look imposing—but he was one of Seibō's most technical hitters. Along with the leadoff hitter, he was part of their main scoring engine.
He still felt confident.
They had analyzed Seidou in detail. They knew Seidou depended heavily on Zhou Hao creating early suppression with his Spiral Ball.
If they could break that rhythm—if they could hit him in the 1st inning—
Seidou would crumble, just like in their near-loss to Osaka Kiryu.
Seibō was no ordinary school. They were a national powerhouse, equal to Osaka Kiryu.
Their strategy was sound.
Their preparation was thorough.
Their confidence was absolute.
But all of that shattered the moment Zhou Hao exceeded 150 km/h.
Everything they practiced against—useless. Meaningless.
Their perfect plan had become a joke.
Zhou Hao threw his next pitch.
BOOM!!
The batter instantly knew:
He couldn't hit it.
No—almost nobody nationwide could hit this ball.
SNAP!
"Strikeout!"
Two outs became three.
Three batters up.
Three batters down.
Three strikeouts.
All helpless.
The Seibō supporters trembled.
This pattern… this rhythm…
This was Seidou's death march tempo—the tempo that meant their victory was inevitable.
"No… no way… not this…"
They refused to accept it, shaking their heads like children refusing to listen.
But reality marched on.
Seibō's third batter approached the box.
Akagi.
190 centimeters tall.
Over one hundred kilograms.
A mountain in cleats.
He lifted his bat with calm confidence.
Even fans in the stands held their breath.
Zhou Hao's expression didn't change.
The pitch came.
BOOM.
"Strike!"
"Strike!!"
"Strike!!!"
The final ball cut through the air like a blade.
"STRIKEOUT!! Three up, three down!"
The top of the 1st inning ended with Zhou Hao's absolute domination:
three strikeouts, zero contact, zero hope.
The stadium exploded.
"Zhou Hao!!!"
"OUR ACEEEEE!!!"
"THE KING OF KOSHIEN!!!"
And so—
The game moved to the bottom of the first inning.
Seidou on offense.
The aura of victory already gathering behind them.