Chapter 5: Going Home to Raise Pigs!

On the CRT monitor array at the Pearl River Road internet café, station number seventeen was hosting a small pilgrimage of sorts. A makeshift stand crafted from stacks of Sanbao Hong Nanjing cigarettes held a phone screen playing a slow-motion clip of the decisive strike on Zed—at the moment the killing mark exploded, a series of metallic clinks echoed from the back row, the sound of over thirty water bottles hitting the floor in tribute.

“Rewind! Rewind and check the energy control!” a yellow-haired network attendant squeezed through the crowd, his T-shirt emblazoned with “Noxus Guillotine” sweat-stained and faded. “This guy’s definitely scripting, who calculates energy down to single digits?”

No one dared to argue. Everyone held their breath, watching Jiang Ming demonstrate the “Shadow Grass Probe” in the video: at the instant when W hits E, triggering energy recovery, Zed sharply angles his movement, narrowly dodging Lee Sin’s Sonic Wave—a maneuver so precise it seemed drawn with a compass.

“Damn! This plays good enough to brag about for three years!” A boy playing Master Yi in the corner pounded the keyboard so hard the spacebar spring flew and bounced off the ceiling. The attendant silently took note, planning to add “wear seatbelts when watching JM’s videos” to the café rules by tomorrow.

As the progress bar reached the item analysis segment, someone suddenly tapped Lin Xiao on the shoulder from behind. Turning around, he saw two boys with dark circles under their eyes standing at the end of the overnight queue; the one in front rubbed his hands with a grin. “Bro, can you cast this to the big screen? The internet fee’s on us.”

“Sure, no problem.”

“The movement details, the game sense...” When the video was transmitted to the large screen, many players waiting to enter their matches gasped in admiration. “Damn, this guy’s insanely good!”

“If JM wasn’t distracted by live streaming, he’d probably be number one on the national server. His speed in mastering new champions is just crazy.”

Those who understood new champions knew they were all stat monsters, and grabbing them first before any nerfs was a surefire way to climb ranks.

But therein lay the challenge: with new champions being a blank slate, just getting familiar with their skills took time, let alone mastering all the intricate details.

As the video was uploaded successfully to major video platforms, views skyrocketed. Countless viewers marveled at Jiang Ming’s immense talent and deep understanding of the game. On the third day after the new champion’s release, he was already dominating high-tier matches with the Thunderlord, dissecting the champion’s mechanics from head to toe in the footage.

Soon, Jiang Ming’s tutorial video caught the attention of many professional team players, whose reactions mirrored those of average gamers.

Shanghai WE Training Base.

In a room where the IPL5 championship trophy gleamed coldly in front of a tactical whiteboard, a young man with a bowl cut was hard at work at his computer.

Ming Kai, having just finished a ranked match, queued seamlessly for the next game. As the perennial ladder leader on the national server, staying ahead required an immense number of matches to avoid being overtaken by challengers.

The faint sound of Ming Kai’s mouse wheel grinding was heard as the screen showed the Shadow Reaper weaving through the Three Wolves wall at an odd angle. At the 47-second mark of the video, he lightly tapped the spacebar, freezing the frame at the vision planted just 0.3 seconds before the enemy jungler’s death.

“This player’s game sense is insanely strong,” said the curly-haired support as he tore open a snack and leaned toward the screen, cucumber-flavored crumbs falling onto a mousepad adorned with the WE emblem.

Jiang Ming’s voice synchronized with the video: “Never scout vision with your body in this situation. If someone’s in the bush, Zed can gain energy back by shadowing with the E skill combo.”

In-game, a shadow clone of the champion executed the death mark while the energy recovery revealed the presence of someone in the grass. Zed’s subtle sidestep perfectly avoided Lee Sin’s Sonic Wave flying through the fog of war—anticipating and nullifying the gank attempt.

Ming Kai’s monitor froze on a particular detail: at 25 minutes and 13 seconds, Jiang Ming pinged the Baron pit three times—the enemy jungler had just returned to base to replenish a true sight ward. Ming Kai compared this moment with a training match replay against SKT, where their second-string mid laner made the exact same call at the identical timestamp.

“That’s not talent,” Ming Kai muttered through a mouthful of crispy noodles, “that’s pure prophecy.”

“Shadow Reaper is definitely going to be the darling of the new season,” the curly-haired player nodded. “Our favored global strategy got gutted pretty badly.”

Ming Kai took out a tactical board and drew a skull beside “Zed’s” name.

“What about Ruo Feng? How’s he doing with assassins?” Ming Kai asked.

“He’s been busy with events all day. He and Smile are asleep now. I haven’t checked with him yet,” the curly-haired player replied without hesitation.

The bowl-cut youth frowned slightly but kept his thoughts to himself, unwilling to criticize his good friend. He mumbled under his breath, “Everyone knows the assassin meta’s off, yet he won’t practice. What’s he going to do come LPL if he stays like this?”

“Can’t expect to improve without grinding. Why even bother playing pro? Might as well go home and raise pigs…”

“We have to survive as a team. Sponsorship events have to be done.”

From behind Ming Kai and the curly-haired player, a sharp voice pierced the air.

A Bu barged through the door, clutching a stack of documents and the latest “Esports Manager Certification Exam Outline” under his arm.

Ming Kai glanced at A Bu but said nothing, continuing to watch the video.

“Ming Kai, this video creator you’re watching—I’ve been following him recently too. He’s a very skilled mid laner with exceptional game insight.”

“Especially in his champion mechanic breakdowns. Within two days of a new champion’s release, he pretty much has them figured out.”

“Should we try to invite him to WE to play professionally?”

To Ming Kai, a mid laner this strong joining their roster...

“Ha, what are you thinking?” Before A Bu could speak, the curly-haired player laughed. “He’s currently the top League of Legends tutorial streamer. His YY livestream sometimes has more viewers than ours. One fan even leaked he’s a university student at Jinling University. How could someone like that come play pro like us?”

A Bu continued, “Actually, before us, IG tried to recruit him.”

“IG?”

“Isn’t Zitao their mid laner? Guy’s first-rate. Are they switching players so soon?”

“Probably not. They likely value JM’s game understanding. Many teams in other regions are adding coaching staffs; IG probably wants to keep up.”

“Did JM agree to IG?”

“No.” A Bu flipped through the documents. “Last week, JM publicly recruited high-rank players on his stream to form a team called NXG. Apparently, he wants to lead his own squad into the pro scene.”

Hearing this, Ming Kai and the curly-haired player were both stunned.

Indeed, if you can be your own boss, why bother playing pro yourself?

“Looks like JM made a lot of money selling pork floss cakes,” the curly-haired player sighed.

“Definitely. Every one of JM’s videos is insanely high quality. With high-rank matches and detailed commentary, his views start in the hundreds of thousands. Even if only one percent of viewers visit his shop, that’s still a huge amount.” Mentioning JM’s online store, A Bu perked up. “Many in our circle think JM’s business model is worth emulating—using streams and videos to drive traffic, then converting that into sales on Taobao. It’s becoming a major revenue stream for esports teams.”

“Taobao store, monetization, selling pork floss cakes like him?”

“Not just pork floss cakes. I checked JM’s Taobao shop—snacks, gaming peripherals, even trendy clothing. He probably earns at least tens of thousands a month.”

There was a hint of envy in A Bu’s voice.

No wonder he’s a top student at Jinling University—his mind is sharper than ours. A college student making tens of thousands a month!

The curly-haired player suddenly remembered something and flipped open his Taobao order history. “Last week, the pork floss cakes I bought shipped from Jinling University’s entrepreneurship park… Damn! He even sent trial packs to the WE training base!”