A Chance Encounter at the Teahouse

The teahouse was well situated. From the second-floor window seats, one could see the pedestrians passing along the main street below and the activity at the arena entrance diagonally across the road.

Li Long ordered a pot of clear tea and two plates of snacks, then sat by the window and drank slowly.

The buzz from the first day of the preliminaries had yet to fully die down. The teahouse was packed with spectators and contestants who had come to rest after leaving the arena, gathering in small groups to discuss the day's matches.

Li Long did not deliberately listen to the conversations around him, but the teahouse was far from quiet. Fragments of dialogue drifted over from table after table, some incomplete, some whole.

At the table nearest to him sat several young people in casual clothes. A few temporary contestant identification badges lay scattered across their table. From their conversation, they seemed to be members of a team eliminated in the preliminaries, reviewing their defeat that day.

In a corner against the opposite wall, two middle-aged men spoke in low voices. They mentioned the results and advancement prospects of a certain division, speaking with the discerning tone of industry insiders. They were likely experienced coaches or referees.

Li Long took in that information one piece at a time without joining any table's conversation.

His gaze shifted outside. The crowds on the street had thinned since dusk, and the streetlamps had begun to light up, casting fractured silver reflections across the damp flagstones.

At that moment, a dense flurry of footsteps sounded from the stairway, accompanied by the voices of young men and women. It sounded as though a large group had come upstairs together.

Li Long looked over. A group filed out from the stairway. They wore casual