Zhou didn't call it a meeting.
He called it breakfast.
That was how he framed most serious conversations—casual on the surface, deliberate underneath.
By the time Daniel arrived at the studio the next morning, the lights were already on. The main room smelled faintly of coffee and instant noodles, the familiar scent of people who lived more hours in games than anywhere else.
Zhou was sitting at the long table with a tablet in front of him, scrolling.
"You're late," he said without looking up.
Daniel checked the time. "By four minutes."
Zhou snorted. "See? Already thinking like a pro again."
They didn't talk about the Top 100 at first.
That was intentional.
Zhou slid the tablet across the table instead.
"City League regulations," he said. "Regional qualifiers. Team registration rules. Player eligibility."
Daniel glanced at the screen.
Five players minimum.One substitute allowed.Fixed roles required at registration.Roster locked after deadline.
"This isn't ranked," Zhou continued. "Once you submit names, you live with them."
Daniel nodded. "I know."
Zhou finally looked up. "Good. Because that's where most people screw up. They think talent solves everything."
He tapped the screen again.
"It doesn't."
They went through it line by line.
Schedules. Match formats. Promotion rules.
City League wasn't glamorous. No crowds. No sponsorship banners. No second chances.
You lost, you waited a year.
"You're aiming past this," Zhou said eventually. "I get that. But this stage eats people who look ahead instead of down."
Daniel leaned back. "Then we won't look ahead."
Zhou studied him for a moment, then smiled faintly.
"Same answer you gave four years ago."
Daniel didn't respond.
The roster list came next.
Zhou pulled up a blank page.
"Let's start with what you're sure about," he said.
Daniel spoke without hesitation. "ADC."
Zhou nodded. "Chen."
"Yes."
"No debate there," Zhou agreed. "She's stable, disciplined, and she listens. That already puts her ahead of half the ladder."
He typed the name in.
"One down."
"Mid?" Zhou asked.
Daniel paused.
"Potential," he said. "Not confirmed."
Zhou didn't push. He just marked it as pending.
"Support?"
Daniel shook his head. "Still open."
Zhou raised an eyebrow. "That's risky."
"I know," Daniel replied. "But rushing it is worse."
Zhou accepted that.
"Jungle?"
Daniel exhaled slowly. "Unknown."
"Top?"
"Same."
Zhou leaned back, arms crossed.
"So that's two locked, three empty."
"Yes."
Zhou studied the list, then chuckled.
"You know what this looks like from the outside, right?"
Daniel waited.
"It looks like someone planning a disaster," Zhou said. "High ceiling, no safety net."
Daniel met his gaze. "That's the only kind that lasts."
Zhou didn't argue.
Instead, he turned the tablet around again.
"I rented the space across the hall," he said. "Renovations start next week."
Daniel frowned slightly. "That was fast."
"Top 100 does that," Zhou replied. "People listen."
He swiped to a layout diagram.
Training room.Five bedrooms.Common area.
"Not fancy," Zhou said. "But functional."
Daniel stared at the screen for a long moment.
"This is a lot," he said quietly.
Zhou shrugged. "I've made money. Might as well spend it on something that matters."
Daniel smiled faintly.
As if on cue, Daniel's phone vibrated.
A message.
CrystalFeather:Are you busy today?
Daniel replied after a moment.
Nightwalker:Somewhat.
Three dots appeared.
CrystalFeather:I'm in the city.
Daniel glanced at Zhou.
Zhou saw the look and smirked. "Mid?"
"Potential," Daniel said.
Zhou stood up. "Then don't keep potential waiting."
Daniel left the studio an hour later.
The ladder felt distant now.So did the noise.
What remained was a list of names yet to be written—and a deadline that didn't care about preparation or reputation.
City League wasn't impressed by rank.
It wanted proof.
And Daniel intended to give it structure.