Chapter Four: The Man They Hid

Ash led Lin Zhou into an old equipment room. When the door locked, the arena's celebration became a muffled pulse behind the wall. There was no brace on Ash's right hand. His wrist moved freely. The injury story was not even meant to fool people in the room. “How did you know?” Lin Zhou asked. “Because the way you looked at Rampart was the way I looked at my teammates the first time I paid the price.” Ash opened a match recording from three years earlier. His younger self crossed three blind spots before completing what commentators later called the Ambush of the Century. “I used to see routes too. Only five seconds ahead,” he said. “The first time I changed one, I forgot my father teaching me to ride a bike. Then my college acceptance letter.