Dimensional Storekeeper

Chapter 221: The Bracket Gets Real, Quarterfinals!

The silence that followed was loud.

Man got his royal aura farmed by a bald young man in his tattered, ash-dusted robe with sleeves so uneven it looked personally butchered for “mobility.”

But at least the emperor didn’t walk away empty-handed.

Empress Shen Qianrou walked up to him with a soft smile, gave him a kiss on the cheek, and wrapped him in a long, warm hug.

The crowd melted a little.

Some even clapped.

Ji Yunzhi, on the other hand, stared at them from across the room. Face twitching. Brows low. Eyes narrowing.

Not from disgust.

But something worse.

Yearning.

He looked away immediately.

’Ridiculous.’ he thought.

But in the very depths of his heart, the tiniest whisper echoed –

’…must be nice.’

The little romantic drama faded like mist, replaced once again by the thrill of the game.

Then came one of the hardest matches to predict.

A showdown that had everyone leaning forward, snacks half-forgotten in their hands.

Sect Master Jiang Xianwei, the mystery in human form, known for shots that made no sense until they sank in.

And Yan Shu’er, steady as flowing ink, known for keeping pace even against Mo Xixi – the store’s top-tier employee who never missed unless she wanted to.

They were complete opposites.

It wasn’t loud.

It wasn’t flashy.

But the game was art.

One round, Jiang Xianwei sank a ball off a double-rail shot that curved so weirdly it had someone in the audience asking if it was sorcery.

Yan Shu’er responded by dropping two in a row with zero wasted movement, the kind of shots that made even Old Tiger Zhao nod.

They went back and forth like that.

Curve vs. clarity. Chaos vs. control.

Until the final rack.

Jiang Xianwei, down by one, leaned back with a lazy smile and murmured something about “trusting fate.”

He lined up the cue. Flicked it with a one-handed shot.

Three cushions.

One slow roll.

And the final ball dropped in with a whisper.

Somewhere, a cup of Peach Oolong was raised in salute.

With that final shot, Jiang Xianwei claimed his place among the top four.

With the quarterfinals wrapped up, the real beasts had stepped into the light.

Elder Bai Qingshui.

Ji Yunzhi.

Sect Master Jiang Xianwei.

Old Tiger Zhao.

Two matches would decide who reached the finals.

Old Tiger Zhao versus Ji Yunzhi.

Elder Bai Qingshui versus Sect Master Jiang Xianwei.

The crowd buzzed.

These were names people could get behind. A rogue alchemist who turned out to be a silent menace. A sect master known for poetry and curveball tactics. A steady elder with eyes like ancient stone. And a former street thug turned master of brute finesse.

First up?

Old Tiger Zhao versus Ji Yunzhi.

Despite Ji Yunzhi’s jaw-dropping performance in his last two matches, the crowd still leaned toward the uncle.

After all, Old Tiger Zhao didn’t just win his games. He roared through them.

Slamming balls, grinning ear to ear, casually pocketing three in a row.

Compared to that, Ji Yunzhi was cold, focused, and eerie.

Exciting?

Yes.

But trustworthy in the long haul?

Debatable.

Hao stepped to the table and flipped the copper coin. It danced once in the air and landed in his palm.

Tails.

Old Tiger Zhao gave a satisfied chuckle.

“Eh? Seems the universe’s on my side today, he said, tapping the edge of the table with his knuckle.

“Even smells like there’s soft serve ice cream waiting for me after this.”

He rolled his shoulders and added. “You’re doing good, kid.”

“But this old man’s taking the win. Gotta remind these folks I’m still sharp.”

It wasn’t arrogance. Just honest confidence.

He grinned as he chalked his cue.

Across from Old Tiger Zhao, Ji Yunzhi only nodded once.

A fait smile showed on his face.

Already tracing the subtle rhythm of Old Tiger Zhao’s movements in past matches – the way he favored slightly off-center hits, how his breaks leaned heavy on power then suddenly switched to the softest of touches.

Patterns. Tendencies. Flaws waiting to be uncovered.

Ji Yunzhi watched for those. Stored them.

The room disappeared from his thoughts.

Ji Yunzhi’s focus sharpened. His pulse evened. His eyes followed every shift in light across the table’s surface.

This wasn’t about the championship anymore.

He was getting into it.

Somehow, the more he calculated his shots, the more excited he felt. The angles.

The force. The spin. It all clicked in his head with the same joy he felt when brewing the perfect pill.

This wasn’t a bad way to pass time if he ever got tired of alchemy.

Then again… when was he ever tired of alchemy?

Still, this was close. Almost addicting.

He wasn’t chasing victory.

He was chasing perfect shots.

Both players stepped into position.

Cues in hand.

Eyes locked on the table.

Hao stepped back and moved toward the sideline. Right beside Mo Xixi.

He leaned in slightly.

’Little Xixi, who do you think would win this one?’

Mo Xixi turned her head toward Hao, who was still focused on the billiard table with a thoughtful gaze.

She followed his line of sight, then blinked.

’Who would win, Boss?’

’I think it’s gonna be the bald man.’

Hao glanced at her, brows raising slightly. ’Oh?’

Ji Yunzhi?

He had half-expected her to pick Old Tiger Zhao. After all, the man had experience, a calm grip, and a weird sense of rhythm that could throw even good players off. In most games, Old Tiger Zhao could bulldoze through opponents.

’Why?’ Hao asked.

Mo Xixi crossed her arms, eyes narrowing slightly as she watched Ji Yunzhi lean over the table.

’The bald man.’

’He’s constantly evolving.’ she said simply.

’That kind of improvement isn’t normal. His first match felt raw, but now? He’s smoother. Sharper. More confident.’

’Feels like he’s in that weird state where everything just clicks, you know? Like his thoughts and hands are finally syncing.’

’If he keeps going at this pace, the old man’s going to have a problem.’

Mo Xixi tilted her head.

’But I could be wrong, Boss. If the old man suddenly pulls out some insane performance we haven’t seen before, it might flip.’

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