Against the Algorithm

Chapter 55: Terms of Offense

Summary: With match prep in full swing, the ZGDX base is a sharp contrast of strategic focus and feline drama. While Yao keeps the team steady behind the scenes, one vet visit—and one careless comment—shifts the balance of power entirely. Respect must be earned, peace delicately negotiated, and above all... no one insults Da Bing and walks away unscathed.

Notes:

⚠️Author's Note: Furry Shenanigans

(See the end of the chapter for more notes .)

Chapter Fifty-Five

By Tuesday morning, the ZGDX base had fully shifted into match prep mode.

Gone were the luxury car deliveries and post-chaos lounging. Now, everything felt clipped and razor-focused. The only sounds were the rhythmic clack of keys, quiet bursts of communication, and the occasional sharp instruction from Kwon, who stood near the whiteboard, one hand planted on the marker tray, the other holding a laser pointer aimed squarely at LAN's typical jungle spread.

LAN was written in bold across the top of the board, underlined in red.

"Stick to lane timers," Kwon instructed. "They like disarray. Don't let them pull you out of your line. You're tighter than they are—use that."

Off to the side, Yue sat cross-legged on the bench, a notebook open on his lap and a stylus tapping rhythmically against his palm. As the designated substitute Midlaner, he wasn't just present, he was shadowing every moment of Ming's prep. Every rotation. Every angle just encase he had to step in for the man.

And just behind him, at her own narrow desk off to the side, Yao sat cross-legged in her chair with her laptop perched on a low riser, multiple tabs open, LAN's draft history, support rotations, and Yao's own color-coded breakdown of their Mid-Jungle timings during Phase Two scrim setups. Her hair was loosely braided, her sweatshirt slightly oversized, and her fingers moved with soft certainty as she typed quietly, adding time markers and counter-trigger patterns.

Da Bing sprawled on the floor beneath her chair, paws crossed and tail flicking whenever someone walked too close—silent, watchful, ever vigilant.

But up high atop the top shelf above the wall-mounted game storage rack, draped elegantly like a tiny furry prince surveying his dominion, was Xiao Cong. His gray striped coat practically shimmered under the glow of the soft LED strip above him, and his eyes, those dramatic gray eyes, watched the room like a hawk. He blinked slowly at Pang when the support player yawned too loudly, then gave an offended twitch of his tail when Yue dropped his stylus. He was clearly taking mental notes.

Kwon moved through the center aisle of the room, eyes sweeping over screens. "Ming, don't push until Pang rotates. That Mid's entire setup relies on punishing isolation."

"Copy." Ming replied.

"Keep jungle side vision thin. They over-rotate if they think you're blind." Sicheng gave a nod, hands relaxed on his mouse and keyboard.

Pang added, "Lan bot's been getting too cocky about delayed tower pulls. We fake pressure at minute six, force them to burn flash, then reset on a kill window."

Yue, watching from his seat, murmured quietly as he reviewed notes, "LAN's Mid loves baiting out second skill use. He'll hover wide just to trigger instinctive response."

Kwon turned toward him. "Shadow for Ming this match. Record each lane phase rotation. I want a three-match review before Thursday."

Yue nodded quickly. "Understood."