World Domination Begins With Getting a System in a Modern World-Chapter 147: The Tournament Ends [Power Stone Goal Bonus - ]

{Scoreboard Update – Team Zolomon/Wells

Points: 36}

{Qualification Threshold: 38}

{Holes Remaining: 4}

{Projected Cutoff to Enter Next Round: 40–42}

They were close. Too close.

A single putt could bridge the gap, shift momentum, and silence doubt — or confirm it.

James exhaled slowly, blocking out the ambient murmurs, the cool breeze swaying through trees, the soft buzz of drones hovering for club footage, and the silent tension of every eye watching him.

The ball sat patiently, one inch from salvation. frёewebnoѵēl.com

He bent low, read the green like Connor taught him. Soft tilt to the left. Slight dew resistance. But nothing complicated. At least not a technical problem, but a mental one.

But he wasn’t nervous anymore.

He smiled to himself as he brought the club back, steady and tapped.

And the ball rolled.

Time didn’t stretch, it froze. The breath of the crowd held tight as a vice.

Plink!

The ball fell in.

No dramatic swing from James and no eruption from those watching. It was just quiet affirmation from them and the ding of the assistant logging the score on the tablet.

{+2 points. New Total: 38.}

They were still in the game.

James straightened, and only then did he notice Connor smiling. Not the performative celebrity smile but a rather genuine smile.

"You just made your first clutch putt," Connor said.

"Guess I’m officially a golfer now." James grinned to himself.

"Not quite but not far off," Connor chuckled.

From the sidelines, scattered nods and murmurs of approval followed.

The judge didn’t say a word, but his pen moved briskly across the scorecard.

***

Hole Fifteen – Par Three was a short distance with elevated tee box, coupled with tricky wind.

Connor played safe, with a high fade that landed clean on the green.

James stepped up and he took his time. He took deep breaths as he calculated, not wanting to make any mistake.

His shot? It curved a little too right but held the green’s edge. It wasn’t bad.

Though he missed the birdie, he secured par.

But more importantly, he made no mistakes and they gained another point.

Score: 39.

***

Hole Sixteen – Par Four

James was up first this time.

His shot sailed high and wide, dangerously close to a line of trees. It clipped a branch and dropped, but stayed in bounds.

"Playable," Connor said calmly.

Then Connor stepped up and struck a perfect draw, threading the fairway like a veteran.

By the time they made it to the green, Connor handled the short game while James supported the approach with a surprisingly neat chip-in.

{+1 point. New Total: 40.}

They were now tied with the lowest projected qualifier. Barely clinging to the edge.

***

When they got to Hole Seventeen – Par Four

The hole was a test of nerve. Slight dogleg left with narrow landing zone.

A small crowd had formed here, with more members, more assistants, even a few media interns from the club’s private newsletter and event log.

And James could feel it — the weight of their judging gaze on him.

Maybe because of it, he missed the fairway again. And this time, it was short and shallow. It was the kind of shot that screamed rookie panic.

Connor, cool as ever, didn’t comment. Just adjusted his stance and fired off a cannon shot that soared straight and landed ten yards from the flag.

When they regrouped at the green, James apologized under his breath.

"I keep dragging us down."

Connor didn’t look at him.

"You’re learning under pressure. That’s more than most."

The next shot, they birdied again.

{+2 points. Score: 42.}

Just like that, they were officially above the qualification threshold but James wasn’t celebrating.

Because the next hole would decide everything.

***

Hole Eighteen – Par Five – The Gauntlet

Nicknamed The Gauntlet by veteran members, Hole Eighteen was a monster. Long, narrow, with three sand traps and a water hazard that curved along the right. Anyone who got too aggressive risked losing it all.

The leaderboard flickered nearby:

{1st: 45 pts}

{2nd: 44 pts}

{3rd: 43 pts}

{4th: 42 pts – (tie)}

{5th: 42 pts – (tie)}

{6th: 41 pts}

{7th: 40 pts}

James stared at the ranking and he saw that their team was currently tied at 4th.

And the final hole will decide whether they climb or fall.

Connor turned to James, and smiled.

"This is it."

"I know," James nodded.

Connor placed a hand on his shoulder.

"You want to take the first swing?"

"Seriously?" James blinked.

"You’ve earned it. Besides, I’m not worried."

James stepped forward, with measured breath. He focused hard, replayed Donovan’s advice, adjusted his grip... and swung.

Crack!

The ball flew straighter than any shot he’d hit all day. It wasn’t perfect — but it was respectable. It landed on the fairway, giving them a clear approach.

Connor followed up with a signature drive. It was longer, cleaner and closer to the green.

Their caddies grinned. Even Mr. Reinfeld’s stone face twitched slightly at the corners.

James immediately jogged ahead, with his heart thumping and his arms loose with adrenaline.

They reached the green after a clean second shot.

Now, all they needed was a birdie to climb one spot, maybe two.

Connor leaned over the putt.

Dozen of silent audiences were watching. Even some of the club’s elite members’ focus were now on them.

Connor exhaled and swung.

The ball skimmed the lip of the hole — and rimmed out.

A gasp swept across the green. It was excruciatingly painful.

But a tap-in have them the Par.

{Final score: +0. Total: 42 points.}

They stood quietly as the judge confirmed the tally and signed the card.

Leaderboard updated.

{1st – 45}

{2nd – 44}

{3rd – 43}

{4th – 43}

{5th – 42 (Zolomon/Wells)}

{6th – 42}

{7th – 41}

James stared at the leaderboard. The difference between 3rd and 5th place? One point.

A single birdie. Just one missed putt.

He wasn’t disappointed. Not really. But he was... aware of just how narrow the margins were in a world like this.

Connor clapped him on the back.

"Top five. Not bad."

"Not enough to win." James nodded.

"No, but a good first outing for newbie like you," Connor agreed.

***

After the tournament ended, everyone cleared from the range and made their way to the pavilion.

Shade umbrellas spread across a stone-lined courtyard. Waiters in white served cocktails and light hors d’oeuvres. The winners gave speeches but James didn’t care for them.

He stood by the edge, sipping sparkling water and watching the crowd.

Then Elliot found him.

"Hey, you did good out there," he said, stepping beside him.

"Still lost," James replied.

"Don’t overthink it. Even though you didn’t win, I’m sure that lots of people took notice of you, considering that you haven’t even started your training." Elliot smirked.

James followed his gaze and he saw a few of the older members, chatting quietly and occasionally glancing his way.

"There," Elliot smiled.

Connor joined them a moment later, towel around his neck, casual as ever.

"Well," he said, clinking his glass gently against James’. "If this is your first tournament, I’m scared to see your second."

James chuckled. But inside, he wasn’t laughing.

Because he now understood and he knew what he had to do next.

He needed to train, to prepare and most of all... he needed to win the next one. As it’s his quickest way up.