The white ball soared high into the sky.
It traveled more than one hundred meters, carving a long arc across the vast expanse of Koshien Stadium.
For a few breathless seconds, time seemed to slow. The ball kept rising, then began its descent beyond the outfield wall. It cleared the fence cleanly and dropped into the stands.
The crowd reacted a moment later.
As recorded by the stadium cameras, a group of children rushed toward the landing spot, scrambling to retrieve the baseball. It was said that whoever caught a home run ball would be especially lucky. With so many hands reaching for it at once, the scene quickly became chaotic and lively.
But neither team paid attention to that excitement.
All eyes on the field were fixed on Zhang Han. After dropping his bat, Zhang Han did not sprint wildly toward first base. He did not shout or pound his chest. Instead, he moved at a steady, almost leisurely pace.
He rounded First Base calmly. Then Second Base. Then Third.
Finally, he stepped on Home Plate. It felt as though he had known from the very beginning that the ball would leave the stadium.
"So confident."
"It looks like he knew the moment he made contact."
His home run changed the score to three to one.
The impact of that swing was already enormous, but what truly caught people's attention was his composure. He appeared confident without being arrogant. That impression was helped greatly by his appearance.
If another Seido player, such as Azuma Kiyokuni, had walked the bases in the same manner, some spectators might have found it unpleasant. Azuma's presence was powerful and aggressive.
But when Zhang Han did it, the reaction was different.
Many girls in the stands even felt that this calmness suited him perfectly.
Unaffected by honor or disgrace.
Whether he performed brilliantly or struggled, he remained composed.
That, in their eyes, was grace.
"This guy is going to become famous."
While outsiders admired his demeanor, the players from Seido High School Baseball Team focused on something else entirely.
For them, charm meant little.
What mattered was impact.
And Zhang Han's home run was nothing less than a lifeline.
If Osaka Kiryuu had completed this inning without allowing a hit or a run, and then continued their expected pitcher rotation strategy, Seido would have fallen into a deeply passive position.
It would not mean surrender.
But their path to a comeback would have become painfully narrow.
That was the harsh reality.
Zhang Han's swing reduced the deficit from three runs to two.
More importantly, it revived the entire Seido lineup.
The psychological effect was subtle at first, but it would grow stronger as the game progressed. Especially in the later innings, the momentum created by this home run would reveal its true value.
There was another factor that left Seido's players shaken.
They had predicted Zhang Han's potential.
But seeing it materialize in such a decisive way still surprised them.
In three games at Koshien, Zhang Han had now hit three home runs.
Azuma Kiyokuni had hit four so far and might add more.
In terms of pure numbers, Zhang Han was only one behind.
Since the Summer Tournament began, Zhang Han's performance had not been inferior to Azuma or Yuuki. Some of that was due to opponents lacking detailed scouting information on him at first.
But Seido's players never doubted his strength.
Even accounting for luck, Zhang Han's overall level had already reached the same tier as Yuuki Tetsuya and Azuma Kiyokuni.
He was one of Seido's greatest trump cards.
It was natural for him to hit three home runs.
Yet when that third home run actually happened, emotions surged.
Shock.
Admiration.
Envy.
Even a trace of jealousy.
Because the third home run carried special meaning.
It was not merely a personal achievement.
It was a record.
Among all first year players participating in Summer Koshien, the highest single player home run record had been two.
At first glance, that number seemed modest.
But breaking it was extremely difficult.
A player had to secure a starting position as a first year.
His team had to advance through multiple rounds.
He had to perform consistently against elite pitching.
Many talented rookies had once hit two home runs in a single game at Koshien.
But their teams were eliminated early.
Without additional games, their records remained frozen at two.
If given more opportunities, they might have set unreachable records.
But there are no hypothetical outcomes in baseball.
To surpass two home runs, individual ability was required.
Team strength was required.
And luck was required.
Zhang Han possessed all three.
His own talent.
Seido's competitive level.
And the right circumstances.
Now the record for first year players at Koshien had risen from two to three.
In the stands, attention sharpened.
Fans whispered. Reporters scribbled notes. Professional scouts narrowed their eyes.
When they witnessed this moment, their expressions changed.
With this record alone, even if Zhang Han delivered no further extraordinary performances, maintaining his current level would likely secure him a place in professional baseball.
Beyond competitive value, he carried commercial value.
Baseball might not be extremely popular in China. It was primarily played in the south and in certain developed cities.
But the country's massive population base compensated for limited popularity. Even if only one in a thousand people showed interest, that still meant more than a million potential supporters.
For those with sharp business instincts, this was an enticing calculation.
Handled properly, Zhang Han's future earning potential was immense. He was not only a promising athlete. He was a marketable figure. Such players were coveted by every professional organization.
Though he was only a first year, that did not prevent early attention. After Koshien, visits to Seido High School seemed inevitable. While the stands buzzed with speculation and excitement, the game continued.
Zhang Han's home run had shifted momentum.
But baseball demanded consistency.
The next batter stepped in.
Isashiki Jun.
He swung aggressively, trying to build on the momentum.
The ball rolled sharply toward the infield.
An Osaka Kiryuu fielder reacted quickly, scooping it cleanly and throwing to first base without hesitation.
"Snap!"
"Out!"
The inning ended.
Though Seido had finally scored, Osaka Kiryuu maintained control.
The scoreboard now read three to one. The difference had narrowed. But the tension on the field had only begun to rise.
************************************
Upto 50 Chapters In Advance At: P@treon/Vividreader123