Zhang Han felt an endless surge of power rising inside him.
Having stood on the pitcher's mound for three or four years, he knew better than anyone that the position he loved was never an easy one. A pitcher was glorious. During a game, at least half of all attention was fixed on you.
What did that feel like? The more important the position, the heavier the responsibility.
As the pitcher, you basked in glory, but you also carried immense pressure. If the team kept winning, everything was fine. But if the team performed poorly, the pitcher was inevitably the first one blamed.
Because of that, every time Zhang Han took the mound, he enjoyed the spotlight while enduring the pressure that came with it. His strength was decent, but not to the point where he could ignore the competition. And because he often faced strong opponents, he could never relax.
But this time was different. For the first time in his life, Zhang Han was wholeheartedly enjoying pitching. His form today was remarkable.
His pitching speed and power had increased. His control had also improved dramatically. What used to be simple four-panel control now felt close to nine-panel precision. He could place the ball anywhere in the strike zone and watch the upperclassmen swing helplessly again and again.
To him, the feeling was incredible. He found himself growing slightly addicted to it.
Ever since the Old-timers brought in Chris, both sides had fought fiercely back and forth. The freshmen were unable to score off Chris's pitch-calling for two full innings, but the Old-timers also gained nothing from Zhang Han.
He gave them a three-up, three-down inning the moment he stepped onto the mound.
By the seventh inning, nothing had changed. Zhang Han's momentum hadn't faded at all. If anything, it had grown even stronger.
He allowed a hit that inning, but quickly shut the situation down and allowed no runs.
From the moment he stepped onto the mound, Zhang Han became the brightest star on the field.
Every spectator fixed their eyes on him, their expressions filled with genuine awe.
As a freshman, his performance was astonishing.
Since the establishment of Seido's baseball club, they had seen many talented players—like Chris last year, whose debut was also impressive. But even those geniuses had limits. Their strength, while extraordinary, never exceeded a certain range. No freshman had ever dominated a welcoming match. None had ever taken control of a game.
But Zhang Han did.
Not only had he helped the freshmen seize an early lead, even after the Old-timers fought back with everything they had, he remained the most dazzling presence on the field. He continued pushing the freshmen forward.
"Where did Seido find a monster like this?"
"It's crazy!"
"Even though strong freshmen are great for Seido, having one this strong makes me feel uneasy…"
Was the freshman truly this amazing? Or were this year's Old-timers simply weak?
They didn't want to think that way, but the reality before them left little room for argument.
The freshman was indeed outstanding. But the Old-timers this year were clearly not as reliable as those before them.
Just as these thoughts filled the stands, the seventh inning ended.
The score was still 10 to 3. The freshmen trailed by seven runs.
But their spirits were nothing like before. Instead of despair, they looked energized, almost cheerful.
Having a reliable pitcher anchoring the team had completely changed their mentality. The freshmen grew more confident on both offense and defense.
Conversely, even with Chris's help, the Old-timers still couldn't fully suppress the new players. Their expressions looked grim.
With this kind of performance, making a case to join the First-string was difficult. Forget Kataoka—even their own consciences wouldn't allow it.
If they couldn't even defeat freshmen, what face did they have to join First-string?
The one most shaken was Hidezawa.
He had allowed three runs against middle school graduates. That alone was humiliating.
And against Zhang Han, in three matchups, he had been hit twice and saved by the defense once. He hadn't won a single duel.
As the team's Ace, he was determined to face Zhang Han head-on.
At first, Chris hadn't wanted them to confront directly again. Judging from their earlier encounters, Hidezawa struggled badly against him. Forcing Zhang Han into a bad swing, or even giving up a walk, would have been smarter.
But the Ace had decided to settle it personally, and Chris wasn't going to interfere.
Beyond the game's result, he was far more worried about Hidezawa's mentality. If Hidezawa's mindset collapsed, Seido Baseball would collapse with him. Right now, they simply didn't have a pitcher better than him.
And Zhang Han? Even though his pitching today was excellent, Chris didn't believe he could bear the Ace's responsibility. Not yet.
The game entered the top of the eighth inning. One out, bases empty.
Zhang Han stepped into the batter's box again.
To the freshmen, he had become their spiritual pillar—more than 30 new teammates watched him like he was their beacon.
"It's on you!"
"Hit it, hit it!"
"The senior's already thrown over a hundred pitches. He must be exhausted!"
The cheers grew louder. Momentum shifted toward the freshmen again.
But Hidezawa wasn't fazed. He focused every bit of his concentration on Zhang Han.
"Whoosh!"
After gathering power for nearly half a minute, he threw his first pitch. The ball shot forward with incredible speed, reaching the strike zone almost instantly.
Even after over 100 pitches, Hidezawa's speed and power hadn't dropped.
Zhang Han didn't hesitate. He swung with complete confidence.
In their fourth confrontation, he already knew Hidezawa's pitching tendencies like the back of his hand.
"Ping!"
The bat struck the ball cleanly, sending it flying in a sharp arc. The ball dropped behind the third baseman.
"Safe!"
With that hit, Zhang Han sprinted to second base successfully.