Imaginary Enemy

I lost!

The instant Flying Sword fell, Liu Xiaobie collapsed against his seat in a daze.

His adjustment after slowing his rhythm had become opening for the opponent. He had figured out this "correct" method with difficulty, only for it to be broken. Was this method not actually the best choice?

Liu Xiaobie now began to doubt himself, just like he had doubted himself when he had used his explosive hand speed time and time again and yet was unable to achieve victory.

Carrying this shock, he walked out of the player booth, offstage, returning to Tiny Herb's player area.

"You played well." His teammates tried to cheer him up, and Liu Xiaobie managed a weak smile. They patted him on his shoulders, but they didn't worry about him too much. It was normal to be disappointed and melancholic after a defeat. If he had come back in high spirits, that would be more worrying.

Liu Xiaobie sat in his seat. Lowering his head, he looked at his two hands.