Zhou Hao and Chris's conversation went on long enough that the batter took notice.
He couldn't hear what they were saying, but it wasn't hard to guess:
they were discussing adjustments.
Seisho High's leadoff hitter welcomed this possibility.
Their Coach had already disclosed—reluctantly—that Zhou Hao was throwing a Bullet Ball.
And not just any Bullet Ball.
The same Bullet Ball as Akutsu's.
This revelation had plunged the dugout into silence.
Seisho's batters were so traumatized by Akutsu's signature pitch that they didn't even dare talk about it among themselves. Just hearing the words "Bullet Ball" triggered panic.
The first batter, however, was determined.
He was a top-of-the-order hitter, a core player.
He had faced Akutsu countless times.
And if Zhou Hao truly possessed Akutsu's exact Bullet Ball, then the chances of hitting it were depressingly low.
But if Zhou Hao reverted to his older pitching style—even slightly—
their chances would rise.
That thought gave him a faint hope.
As he held his breath and raised his bat, Zhou Hao suddenly moved.
The white baseball shot out without warning.
The moment he saw it—
The leadoff batter's eyes widened.
This is…!
He recognized the pitch instantly.
He didn't need a second sample.
He didn't need to analyze the trajectory.
He had seen it too many times in practice.
The baseball reached the glove before he even had time to swing.
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
Chris exhaled, relieved.
Zhou Hao had warned that his stamina might disrupt his command, and for a catcher, that was frightening.
At this stage of the game, they could not function without Zhou Hao's stability.
Rotation strategies, stamina-saving tricks—those were luxuries.
But pitching remains a battlefield of endurance. Under constant pressure, collapse could come at any moment.
Yet now, seeing that pitch—
Chris knew he had worried too much.
Zhou Hao's stamina hadn't failed him.
His delivery maintained speed.
His accuracy was still sharp enough.
And the late movement… remained monstrous.
"If I hadn't seen it myself, even I wouldn't believe Zhou Hao could copy the opponent's ultimate pitch so perfectly."
Even as Zhou Hao's catcher and partner, Chris found it unbelievable.
If he was shaken, then Seisho High's players must have felt utter despair.
Just like their first batter, who now looked as harmless as a small animal, stunned by fear.
To reduce a core batter of a national powerhouse into such a state—
that was how terrifying Zhou Hao's Bullet Ball was.
Chris didn't intend to show mercy.
He signaled immediately.
The batter was wavering—
now was the time to shatter Seisho High completely.
"Let's finish the top three in one sweep," he thought.
With only a one-run lead, Seido needed to choke their opponent's momentum early.
"Come on!"
Zhou Hao clicked his tongue.
"Don't be so impatient, Senior."
But though he teased Chris verbally, his actions were relentless.
He wound up—
"Whoosh!"
The Bullet Ball screamed toward the plate again.
The batter's eyes widened in terror.
It wasn't an illusion.
It really was Akutsu's Bullet Ball.
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
Two strikes.
Cornered.
The ball returned, and Zhou Hao didn't pause for a heartbeat.
"Whoosh!"
Third Bullet Ball.
The batter swung wildly out of desperation.
"Ping!"
The ball flew upward—straight up, not forward.
Chris stepped forward and caught it easily.
"Pop!"
"Out!!"
One out. No one on base.
The stadium erupted.
"Did you see that?! He couldn't even hit it forward!"
"Zhou Hao is incredible!"
"That was Seisho High's top batter! And he made him look helpless!"
Even though Seisho High's top players looked powerless under Zhou Hao, they were still core athletes of a national powerhouse.
Yet against Zhou Hao—
they appeared as fragile as children.
Complete domination.
Second Batter: Akutsu
Next came Akutsu.
His teammates' faces were chalk-white.
If even ordinary batters felt despair facing Zhou Hao's Bullet Ball, then what about Akutsu—the creator of the pitch?
Wouldn't this crush him psychologically?
Akutsu's entire baseball identity was the Bullet Ball.
He had poured his soul into that pitch.
He was unrivaled because of it.
How must it feel to see his life's work imitated perfectly?
But as Akutsu stepped into the batter's box—
He looked calm.
Chris noticed that calmness and couldn't help but grin slightly.
At this stage, secrecy was gone.
Everyone on Seisho High had already seen Zhou Hao's Bullet Ball.
Akutsu definitely knew.
And yet he was calm?
That meant one thing—
his mentality was extraordinary.
Let's see how long that lasts.
Chris signaled.
Zhou Hao fired.
"Whoosh!"
Akutsu didn't flinch.
Instead, he actually smiled.
"I never thought I'd see my own Bullet Ball… from this angle."
He didn't swing.
"Pop!"
"Strike!"
Chris clicked his tongue.
"Again."
"Whoosh!"
Same pitch. Same angle. Same speed.
Akutsu, ready now, swung instantly.
"Buzz!"
The sound cut through the air.
Chris stiffened.
That swing speed—dangerous.
If he made clean contact…
"Ping!"
The ball flew… foul.
"Foul!"
One strike. One foul.
Two strikes total.
Zhou Hao held the advantage.
Still—Akutsu hadn't shown any fear.
"Continue."
Chris's signal was cold and sharp.
On the mound, Zhou Hao moved like a machine.
"Whoosh!"
The third Bullet Ball.
Akutsu adjusted his stance.
He was confident—his mastery of the Bullet Ball surpassed any high school player.
He understood the pitch better than anyone.
Just because others couldn't hit it didn't mean he couldn't.
Just because others were suppressed didn't mean he would be.
He swung.
"Ping!"
The moment the bat contacted the ball—
Akutsu's expression collapsed.
"What…?!"
The speed was identical.
The angle was identical.
The spin was nearly identical.
But the late movement—
It was incomparable.
Zhou Hao's pitch bent harder.
Dropped sharper.
Carried far more violence at the end.
It wasn't even close.
The ball shot upward, then fell like a stone.
Matsumoto caught it easily.
"Pop!"
"Out!"
Two outs. No one on base.
The Seisho High dugout was stunned speechless.
They had expected Akutsu to at least fight.
He was the original.
Zhou Hao was the copy.
How could the original lose?
But reality was cruel.
When Akutsu walked back, his teammates swarmed him.
"How did he strike you out?!"
"Is it really the same Bullet Ball?"
Akutsu spoke coldly.
"His pitch is different from mine."
They froze.
"His Bullet Ball is… better."
Shock swallowed the dugout whole.
A fake—
stronger than the original?
"When I swung, I could feel it. My angle was correct. My timing was correct. But the ball wouldn't fly out."
"The late movement on his Bullet Ball is stronger than mine. It's on a different level."
Akutsu's tone was detached, as if speaking about someone else entirely.
His teammates felt their scalps go numb.
If even Akutsu—
the best Bullet Ball thrower in high school baseball—
couldn't hit Zhou Hao's version…
How were any of them supposed to?
The game had just entered a new phase.
A terrifying one.