CS: I’m Only 16, and You Want Me to Stage an Old Veteran Comeback?

Ma Xixi woke up from his sleep.
Recently, Steel Helmet had successfully made it into the Asian RMR, which put him in a particularly good mood.
After getting up and freshening up, he saw Jiang Yang already sitting in front of the computer practicing recoil control.
He increasingly liked his cousin’s personality—straightforward and honest, and never stubborn about his shortcomings. If he wasn’t good at something, he’d just quietly work on it in private.
Over the past few days, while the other four members of Steel Helmet would wind down after matches by jumping into PUBG for some fun, Jiang Yang stayed focused on grinding 5E’s ranked ladder alone. This approach had driven CS streamers crazy, leaving them mentally drained one after another.
“Have you eaten yet?” Ma Xixi mumbled through a mouthful of toothpaste as he brushed his teeth.
Jiang Yang stopped after finishing a magazine’s worth of practice shots and turned around to reply, “I’ve eaten. Sister-in-law made noodles this morning, but they’re probably all mushy in the pot by now. Want me to go downstairs and grab you something instead?”
Wow, looks like he’s been at it all morning. He must be taking the upcoming match pretty seriously… Ma Xixi raised an eyebrow.
But that was understandable;
after all, their next opponent was Tyloo—one of the only two domestic teams with notable achievements.
“No worries, I’ll grab something myself,” Ma Xixi replied. “You keep practicing, but don’t stress too much. It’s Tyloo today—just do your best.”
Though they had won against some pro teams, the ones truly at the top of the scene were only Tyloo and VG.
These teams, capable of competing internationally, were on a completely different level compared to ordinary pro teams.
Ma Xixi didn’t have particularly high expectations.
Jiang Yang, however, turned back and continued his recoil training for another ten minutes.
He didn’t argue with Ma Xixi, but the truth was, he wasn’t nervous at all.
As Ma Xixi had said, he just needed to give it his all.
In the game "Your Opponent," Jiang Yang had gone up against the dream-team version of peak S1mple and his squad before. How could he possibly fear Tyloo?
Granted, he’d been utterly crushed by that S1mple team. But when facing opponents of that caliber, Jiang Yang still felt confident.
Previously, he’d spent simulation points to play a match against Tyloo’s full lineup, and the final score had been 13:16.
Bear in mind, in the simulation, Jiang Yang couldn’t choose his teammates. He was often thrown into scenarios like starting the game at a disadvantage, facing 2v4 situations mid-game, or handling 1v3 clutch attempts in the late game.
Under such intense pressure, Jiang Yang had honed his mid-round decision-making and late-game clutching abilities.
He finally realized that his greatest talent was adaptability.
Jiang Yang’s learning speed in CS:GO surpassed anyone he had ever seen.
Using the term "visible to the naked eye" to describe his improvement was just an objective statement.
Through recent training, Jiang Yang had also inferred bits and pieces about the 30-year-old version of himself based on system prompts.
Apparently, the 30-year-old Jiang Yang didn’t practice much.
That version of himself believed that talent alone could carry him to the pinnacle of CS, squandering the gift that had once made him a god of the game. His decline in form had allowed other prodigies of his generation to crush his resolve.
Not practicing wasn’t necessarily a problem. Once you reached a certain level of fundamentals, practicing was mostly about maintaining form.
Even now, just grinding ranked matches was enough. Jiang Yang recalled that even the current strongest French player, ZywOo, operated the same way.
But it seemed that the 30-year-old Jiang Yang didn’t train at all.
When Jiang Yang pieced this together, he got goosebumps.
On one hand, he marveled at his godlike talent in CS. To reach the global peak relying purely on natural ability was truly a result of divine favor.
On the other hand, he was stunned by the stupidity of his 30-year-old self.
Why would he slack off so much?
Why wouldn’t he spend more time chasing the ultimate peak of CS?
Jiang Yang couldn’t understand.
Perhaps he’d have to uncover the reasons slowly in the future.
But the 16-year-old Jiang Yang was determined not to become the "30-year-old Jiang Yang."
With a single thought, the system panel appeared once more.
Ma Xixi had asked if he was nervous.
But with consistent training, noticeable improvements, and a stable mindset, Jiang Yang simply didn’t feel that way.
Besides, it was just an online match.
Jiang Yang decided not to keep practicing for now. He’d done enough to maintain his form for the afternoon game.
Pulling out his phone, he casually scrolled through Bilibili to relax his brain.
The first thing he saw was a video uploaded by "MTC-kun," showcasing Ma Xixi’s commentary on Steel Helmet’s match against a Mongolian team.
Curious about how he appeared from the audience’s "God’s-eye view," Jiang Yang clicked in.
Then he realized just how much fun the netizens were having with him.
Over the past few days, as Steel Helmet performed well in the qualifiers, Jiang Yang’s standout plays had earned his ID a nickname.
Because of his name, Jiang Yang, the viewers affectionately referred to him as “Yang” or “The Sun” in the livestreams.
When he made a highlight play, the chat would erupt with "Sun God!!"
When he gave up the first kill, the chat roasted him with "Like Shaun the Sheep."
The viewers spammed jokes so much that even Jiang Yang couldn’t help laughing as he watched.
However, because of his exceptional performance, the nickname "Sun God" appeared more often.
The comments under the video were filled with praise for Jiang Yang:
Seeing "heir apparent" made Jiang Yang burst out laughing.
As he kept scrolling, he noticed differing opinions.
One commenter, trying to stand out, wrote:
This comment naturally drew the ire of Jiang Yang’s fans.
After all, Jiang Yang’s recent performances had been very "carry," and even his off days only resulted in slightly less impressive stats.
In China’s CS scene, it was rare to see such a talented prodigy emerge. Yet in the hater’s eyes, he was “just decent”?
Fans quickly started flooding the comments with stats to back up Jiang Yang’s achievements.
Eventually, as if overwhelmed by the backlash, the hater replied:
Jiang Yang didn’t reply but pondered to himself.
If he managed to beat Tyloo, how would those haters react?
Before anyone realized it, it was already 4 PM.
The Asian RMR match was set to begin at 5 PM. All members of Steel Helmet were already gathered in the TS voice channel, but nobody was talking—mics were muted.
That’s because MO was doing a pre-game interview with 5E staff. According to Ma Xixi, it was all for building hype.
5E Staff: "First, congratulations on securing a spot in the Asian RMR. You’ve become the oldest team on average in this year’s RMR. How does that feel?"
MO:
He laughed.
5E Staff: "We’ve heard you have a prodigy on your team. Can we get your thoughts on him?"
MO:
When it came to Jiang Yang, MO didn’t hold back his praise.
After all, this trip was all about putting Jiang Yang on the radar of other professional teams. Of course, he wasn’t going to hold back the compliments—it was all true anyway. Jiang Yang’s recent performances were simply godlike.
The 5E staff member then steered the conversation toward trash talk.
"So, today you’re facing Tyloo. Do you have confidence in this match?"
MO bluntly replied:
"What!?" The staff member was taken aback. Wasn’t this the part where MO was supposed to say,
?
MO explained:
"Not even a sliver of a chance?" the staff member pressed.
MO sighed:
What MO didn’t realize was how much weight his casual comment would carry.
…