As the torrent of capital in the heart of the esports world constructed a magnificent stage for the upcoming Star Sea Cup, in a small southern city, there were no flashing neon signs, no fervent cheers from fans, only the sticky summer air and the sounds of everyday life.
In an inconspicuous corner of this city, an internet cafe named "Speed" was the sole sanctuary for the dreams of five young people. The internet cafe was perennially filled with the smell of tobacco and instant noodles, the clacking of keyboards, the clicking of mice, and occasional outbursts of profanity. And in the innermost, small, even somewhat dilapidated private room, the fate of the "Dawn" team faced a silent judgment.
The captain, A Le, who was also the team's jungler, was staring intently at the final confirmation button on the official registration page for the Star Sea Cup. His finger hovered above the mouse, trembling slightly, hesitant to click. The staggering 500,000 champion prize money displayed on the screen was like a giant magnet, exuding an irresistible allure. But what attracted them more was the slightly smaller line of text next to the prize money— "Compete on the same stage as top professional teams in the country."
For these five young men, who had long been regulars in the national server's Challenger tier but had never been recognized by the professional threshold, this was not a temptation, but a call that was almost sacred.
"Click it?" Old K, the support player, who was slightly older and the most stable in the team, asked in a low voice. His voice was exceptionally clear in the small private room.
A Le did not answer immediately; he glanced at his teammates gathered around him.
Da Kang, the top laner, true to his name, was robust and had a personality like a silent stone, usually speaking the least, but once he sat in front of the computer, his playstyle was as fierce as a tiger unleashed. He now stood with his arms crossed, leaning against the peeling wall, his gaze fixed on the screen, burning with desire.
A Jun, the mid-laner, was the team's prodigy, quick-witted and agile, and the engine of the team's early game tempo. He seemed a bit anxious, his fingers unconsciously tapping on the table, muttering, "Three million…"
Xiao Miao, the ADC, was somewhat sensitive, and his family background was the most ordinary among the five, with practical concerns always preventing him from being as unreserved as the others. He lowered his head, looking at his mouse pad, which was somewhat worn from long-term training, and softly said, "The registration fee… we saved up for so long."
Yes, just that registration fee, which was negligible for a professional team, had already exhausted their "team fund" saved through frugality. It contained every penny they had scrimped from breakfast, bought fewer skins, and even occasionally earned from part-time jobs.
A Le took a deep breath; the familiar smell of instant noodles and smoke in the air now seemed particularly bitter. He knew what Xiao Miao was worried about. He finally pressed the left mouse button with a heavy heart.
The green "Registration Successful" pop-up appeared, like a faint light, instantly illuminating the five young faces in the private room. After a brief cheer and high-fives, a deeper silence fell.
"Alright," A Le broke the silence, his voice dry, "Registration is successful. But… the competition city is a thousand miles away. Travel expenses, and at least a few days of accommodation and food money once we get there… Where will this money come from?"
The reality of the problem, like a bucket of ice water, poured over them, nearly extinguishing the flickering flame of hope that had just ignited.
The five looked at each other; only the sound of traffic from outside the window and the muffled game audio from the next private room remained. The money they had pooled before was barely enough to cover the cheapest round-trip hard-seat train tickets, which required more than ten hours of travel. Accommodation and food became the most realistic and coldest mountain blocking their dream.
"Or… let's just forget it." Xiao Miao was the first to lose heart. He looked up, his face full of struggle and helplessness. "We can't… really sleep at the train station, can we? And, you've seen how many teams have registered for this competition, even those famous semi-professional teams are coming. What if… what if we go, and get eliminated in the first round, a 'one-round trip,' then all this money will really be wasted. Is it worth it?"
"Is it worth it?" These three words were like heavy lead weights pressing on everyone's hearts. Yes, was it worth exchanging the cost of possibly eating steamed buns for the next month for a hope so faint it was almost invisible? Was it worth exchanging the potentially disappointed looks of their parents for a mere few minutes of an appearance on a huge stage?
The atmosphere was suffocating. Dreams, under the pressure of reality, groaned under the unbearable weight.
Just then, Da Kang, who had been as silent as a stone, suddenly stood up. His movement was so abrupt that he knocked the chair behind him, producing a harsh scraping sound. He usually spoke the least, but his personality was the most stubborn; once he set his mind on something, eight oxen couldn't pull him back.
"We can't give up!" His voice was not loud, but it was like a hammer hitting the table, exceptionally firm, every word carrying weight. "From the day the five of us formed this team, we've been waiting for a stage where we can truly compete with masters! It's just money, isn't it?"
He looked around at his teammates, his eyes showing a desperate resolve, even a hint of ruthlessness: "I'll sell my motorcycle! That'll be enough for our travel and accommodation!"
That motorcycle was a gift from his family when he came of age. Although not a particularly expensive model, it was his best companion through wind and rain, his greatest hobby besides gaming, and an existence he cherished like a brother. He had ridden it countless times, carrying his teammates through the small city's night, discussing the gains and losses of the recent team fight.
"Da Kang, you…" A Le instinctively wanted to dissuade him. He knew what that vehicle meant to Da Kang.
"Don't try to stop me!" Da Kang interrupted him roughly, his eyes seeming a bit red, but his tone showed no wavering. "A motorcycle is dead; I can buy another one when I save enough money later! But an opportunity like this, if we miss it, it might truly be gone! I don't want to be old and sitting in this broken internet cafe, regretting why I didn't dare to take a gamble today!"
His voice echoed in the small private room, that fierce determination to stake everything, like a strong beam of light, piercing through the pervasive gloom. It wasn't impulsiveness, but a defiance against fate that erupted after long suppression.
"We'll gamble this one time!" Da Kang almost squeezed out the words through gritted teeth. "Gamble that our 'Dawn' isn't just trash stuck in this small place! Gamble that our efforts are worth more than just a few dozen yuan in internet fees!"
Silence.
A few seconds later, Xiao Miao suddenly looked up, his eyes also red. He vigorously wiped his face, as if to erase all hesitation and timidity: "Damn it, let's do it! Da Kang, you're even willing to sell your bike, I… I'll go ask my mom for an advance on next month's living expenses! I'll just say… the school needs money to buy study materials!"
A Jun, the mid-laner, also slapped the table: "Right! Let's gamble! I'll take on that boosting order tonight and play a few more accounts!"
Old K sighed, but a long-lost smile appeared on his face, a sense of relief after letting go of all burdens: "Alright, since you've all gone mad, I'll join you. I still have some savings; I originally wanted to get a better keyboard… but now it seems being A Le to eat a few more full meals in S City is more important."
A Le looked at his companions, his chest filled with a burning emotion—a mix of bitterness, move (moved), and an unprecedented strength. He nodded heavily, no longer speaking unnecessary words: "Good! Then let's go together! Let's see how big the outside world truly is!"
With the decision made, action was swift and decisive. Da Kang's motorcycle was eventually sold to an acquaintance for a price slightly below market value, but he didn't hesitate. Xiao Miao indeed "tricked" some money from his family; though not much, it was enough for emergencies. A Le and Old K also took out all their savings. The five of them piled up the crumpled banknotes, carefully counting and calculating the most economical expenses: hard-seat green-skin train tickets, youth hostel beds costing dozens of yuan a night where they had to squeeze together, and boxes of instant noodles and packaged bread.
A few days later, carrying simple luggage and money they had scraped together, still bearing their individual body temperatures, they boarded that green-skin train. There were no friends or family seeing them off on the platform, only their five figures leaning on each other. The train slowly started, carrying the five young people, and their dreams—somewhat distorted by the pressures of reality, yet still intensely fervent—towards an unknown and challenging distance.
What they didn't know was that, just as they embarked on their journey, due to the number of teams registered for the Star Sea Cup far exceeding expectations, the organizer Qin Feng and tournament director Lin Haoming, after urgent consultation, decided to adjust the competition format. To more efficiently filter out truly strong teams, an online phase would be held first. They divided the country into several competition zones; all registered teams would go through fierce, even brutal, online elimination rounds, and only the thirty-two strongest teams would finally qualify to gather in S City for the highly anticipated offline finals.
Fate seemed to be playing another trick on them. When they had overcome hardships, gathered enough travel expenses, and were ready to commit to an offline competition, the first hurdle turned into the invisible network.
The "Dawn" team, this grassroots team from a small southern city, was randomly assigned to the East China division, which had numerous well-known semi-professional teams and the fiercest competition. They were unaware of this, still dozing on the shaking hard seats of the train, leaning on each other's shoulders, or during brief moments of wakefulness, repeatedly watching replays of strong teams' matches on their phones, discussing possible tactics in low voices.
Outside the window were rapidly receding, unfamiliar fields and mountains. Inside the train was a crowded space mixed with various smells. Ahead was an unknown battlefield, full of thorns and surrounded by powerful enemies.
But the faint light in their hearts, after staking everything, burned even brighter. There were seven days left until the competition; this was the only thing they could grasp, a humble yet all-out effort belonging to the grassroots—a glimmer of light.