Chapter 152: CGL City Tournament
Chapter 152: CGL City Tournament
——
Fourth update, dedicated to our helmsman [Er Yin].
"Greetings, Lord Iron Tower!"
Meng Fan walked past, feeling somewhat awkward amidst the cheers of Qu Jingjing and the three other cute maids, offering a sheepish greeting before looking at Wu Tong with curiosity. "What are you doing here?"
Of course, Wu Tong was not dressed as a maid; only the four girls led by Qu Jingjing were in costume.
Wu Tong smiled. "To cheer you on."
"Hey, hey, hey."
At this moment, a voice of strong dissatisfaction rose from the side. "We're here too, don't pretend you don't see us!"
Meng Fan glanced at Zhang Zhouwei, Xing Tage, and Chen Daqiang standing nearby, gave a simple "Oh," and then greeted Wang Yanan, Wei Zhixue, and the other girls with a grin.
"Bro."
Da Fei, Pao Ge, and the guy in the flashy pink hat arrived. Seeing the lineup at the entrance, they were filled with awe and gave Meng Fan a thumbs-up. "You really are the man!"
The group walked inside together. The arcade had ceased public operations for the day, serving exclusively for the CGL tournament. The area in front of the basketball machines had been cleared; many machines were moved away to create a large, open circle. Only contestants were allowed inside the roped-off area, while everyone else had to watch from the perimeter.
"I'm heading in then."
Meng Fan said to Wu Tong, then showed his contestant card with Da Fei to enter, checked in, and lined up for warm-ups.
At 8:50, the event organizer gave a speech, and the first round of the individual tournament began.
Meng Fan was assigned to Group B, and Da Fei to Group A.
"Lord Iron Tower."
As Group A prepared to take the floor, Qu Jingjing called out to Meng Fan. When he drew closer, she asked, "Are you not streaming today, my lord?"
Meng Fan glanced at Wu Tong.
Wu Tong, preventing any awkwardness, smiled and said, "I recall you streamed last time."
Meng Fan took out his phone, opened the live stream room, and handed it to her.
"I'm not very good at filming." Wu Tong looked at Qu Jingjing, and seeing her nod, handed the phone over.
"Sister Wu Tong is so kind, no wonder Lord Iron Tower likes you so much."
Qu Jingjing happily took the phone and began the broadcast.
The first round of shots for the ten players in Group A ended quickly. This first set of attempts gave Meng Fan a real look at the level of the city tournament contestants; eight players in Group A scored over 700, two were around 690, and the highest reached 759!
Group B took the floor, and Meng Fan stood before machine number eight.
"Go, Lord Iron Tower!"
"Go, Lord Iron Tower!"
The shouts of the four maids instantly drew everyone's attention, which then shifted entirely to Meng Fan.
"Is that the 'Eight-Hundred' god from the store qualifier?"
"Damn, he's so flashy!"
In this information age, many knew of Meng Fan's performance in the previous qualifier. The contestants, in particular, had certainly done their homework, and videos of the "Eight-Hundred" god were mandatory viewing.
Naturally, that meant they had also seen the Iron Tower's maid army and the hilarious "Sorry, I was bragging" moment.
Meng Fan turned and waved at his "cheering squad." With Wu Tong present, he felt a slight thrill, but having survived the intense gazes during the last qualifier, he was now a seasoned competitor.
The whistle blew, and the shooting began.
After a dozen shots, Meng Fan found his rhythm. His hand speed gradually increased. His score for the first stage was mediocre—235 points—but he caught up to his usual pace in the second, and truly unleashed his power in the third... By the end of the fourth stage, he had scored 787 points.
It was the highest in Group B, and the highest overall so far.
"He's the real deal!"
"Looks like Lord Iron Tower is in great form today."
"At this rate, he's guaranteed to break eight hundred today."
Amidst the chants of the maid army, there was plenty of discussion. Compared to the store qualifier, the other contestants were less openly hostile, though the competitive tension seemed much sharper.
Group C took the floor. Da Fei came up to Meng Fan, pointed at a tall, thin man standing before machine number five, and said, "That guy goes by 'Wind God.' He's the favorite to win the Hangzhou station, your biggest rival, and another master capable of hitting eight hundred."
The shooting began... and ended. The crowd gasped. The tall, thin man known as Wind God was indeed formidable; his hands were hot, and he hit a high score of 809 in his very first round.
"Don't hold back now."
Da Fei patted Meng Fan before heading out, as Group A began their second round.
The scores in Group A's second round were generally better, with the highest reaching 798—just one basket shy of breaking eight hundred.
After this round, the tension at the venue became palpable.
In all three groups, a master who had either already broken or was poised to break eight hundred had emerged!
"Good luck."
Seeing Meng Fan turn to look at her before taking the floor, Wu Tong smiled and waved her fist—she was here to cheer for him, after all.
This time, Meng Fan entered his flow state from the very first shot, growing faster and more aggressive with every basket.
Before the first stage had even ended, the eyes of everyone in the venue were locked onto Meng Fan.
It wasn't just his presence; the scene unfolding before them was simply staggering.
Too fast!
That was the thought in everyone's mind, and they could say nothing else. They simply stood there, dumbfounded.
"Holy crap, my Fat Meng is god-tier!"
"What kind of crazy stream is this? Is it playing in fast-forward?"
"Hahaha, I knew someone would say that!"
"Boss Meng's hand speed is truly insane! Reminds me of Kato-sensei from the art world!"
The viewers in the stream were less overwhelmed than those on-site, still able to joke and cheer freely.
"824! Can someone tell me what level of score this is?"
"I think I heard the sound of the crowd gasping!"
"I heard it too!"
"Sorry, I only heard the heavy breathing of the maid army!"
The live audience watched Meng Fan's performance in a daze. A large portion of them forgot to check the final score immediately, instead rubbing their eyes or taking off their glasses to wipe them.
They had seen it wrong!
In Group C, a contestant standing next to Wind God nudged him with his elbow. "Wind God, you've met your match!"
Wind God kept his eyes on Meng Fan, nodded, and said, "Indeed. It looks like making it to the provincial finals this year will be difficult!"
For the CGL Basketball Championship provincial finals, the Hangzhou station only had one spot.
From the second round of Group C, the collective gaze of the audience remained fixed upon Feng Shen, for by now, it was clear to all that the duel for the championship and runner-up titles would be contested between him and Iron Tower.
Feng Shen maintained his composure throughout Group C, refusing to let the emergence of a rival like Meng Fan shatter his resolve; instead, he delivered his finest performance of the year, a staggering 818 points.
(End of this chapter)
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