Chapter Four: Yaya's Decision to Livestream

“Tsk tsk, Brother Chen Bo, you really do have some strength! I’m actually surprised,” Chen Long sneered, mocking him without hesitation.

“Pfft! Fifty-eight jin! Hahaha, I can’t take it anymore, hahaha!”

“So this is what they call a genius! Today, as someone with mediocre talent, I’ve truly broadened my horizons.”

“He actually dares to hoard so many cultivation resources from the family? What a joke!”

“A promising cultivation prodigy, and now his meridians are completely shattered. Such is the fickleness of fate! Is this what they call the wheel of fortune turning?”

So, this is what family kinship is supposed to be? How amusing. Chen Bo swept a cold glance over them and ignored their words, heading alone toward his house.

Once back in his room, Chen Bo enabled the all-silence mode. Instantly, a flood of bullet comments surged across the screen like a blizzard.

“Ping Ping tipped the streamer 10 gold coins—take down that so-called Chen Long!”

“Ugh, being muted is so frustrating!”

“Pfft, a streamer nobody cares about has this many viewers and even got pinned by Yaya? Something’s fishy.”

“Where did the streamer find so many extras with superb acting skills?”

“Fumu tipped the streamer 200 gold coins.”

“I see a big spender!”

“Wife, come quick, someone’s time-traveling!”

The barrage of comments made Chen Bo’s head spin, so he quickly summoned the system and asked, “System, this is getting troublesome! I can’t keep everyone muted forever, can I?”

The system replied, “Detected an anomaly, repairing… Repair complete. From now on, only viewers who have tipped over 1,000 gold coins can comment. Their text will appear semi-transparent and in a uniform color.”

The system even has glitches? Chen Bo was speechless.

“Dear viewers, today’s stream has been going for three hours. If I’m not mistaken, it’s lunchtime now. See you tomorrow, everyone! Bye-bye!” Chen Bo closed the stream and lay down on his bed, exhausted.

He’d crossed over in a haze, only to become a person that anyone could bully.

Feeling the shattered meridians of this body, others might not know how it happened, but after inheriting the memories, Chen Bo knew all too well.

A year ago, a man in black had stopped him and destroyed his cultivation with a single strike. Chen Bo had kept this secret buried in his heart, always suspecting there was more behind it.

He opened his personal profile.

Host: Chen Bo
Status: Weak
Level: 0
Realm: None
Items: Meridian-Mending Gu x1, Crystal Hairpin x1, Shaodao Liquor x1
Techniques: None
Gold coins: 530
Viewers: 1,512,546

Still level zero. But he did have quite a lot of gold coins—one gold coin equaled a hundred yuan, so 530 coins meant fifty-three thousand yuan.

But just over fifty thousand yuan was only enough for about five beginner lucky draws, and the prizes wouldn’t be anything amazing.

The number of viewers, though, had skyrocketed past one and a half million; he’d officially joined the ranks of streamers with over a million viewers.

It’s just that his audience wasn’t exactly generous with their spending.

He took out the Meridian-Mending Gu. Looking at the stone-like thing, Chen Bo hesitated. How was he supposed to eat this?

The Meridian-Mending Gu was a rare and precious insect—not the type that needed to be placed in a jar to fight to the death. Gentle by nature, they didn’t like to battle.

Even in this otherworld, the Meridian-Mending Gu was a treasure. If people knew Chen Bo had one, he wouldn’t survive the night. It might even implicate the whole town.

This Gu worm had a miraculous effect: it could restore broken meridians, and there was even a chance it could improve one’s innate talent.

Someone with poor aptitude could, after consuming it, potentially become a prodigy.

Its usage was simple: just swallow it whole, without chewing. But swallowing a bug, even if it looked like a stone, was something Chen Bo couldn’t bring himself to do.

And it was so large—he worried it might get stuck in his throat and choke him to death.

To hell with it! No more hesitation—if you don’t risk it, you’ll never know!

Steeling himself, Chen Bo shoved the Gu worm into his mouth and tried to swallow it. But when it reached his throat, it wouldn’t go down!

His face flushed red from holding his breath, nearly suffocating, he frantically searched for water—but there was none in the room.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. He grabbed the jug of Shaodao Liquor and gulped it down.

After finishing the whole jug, the Gu worm finally went down as well. However, Chen Bo was so drunk he collapsed on the floor.

Earth, Yaya Technical Department

“What is going on with that pinned live room? Why can’t we take it down?” Several technicians were sweating bullets.

“Still no way to remove it?” A middle-aged man stood nearby, frowning.

His name was Zhang Jun, the CEO of Yaya Live, who had turned it into China’s number one streaming platform—a legendary figure.

“Chairman, this stream is extremely bizarre. No matter what we try, we can’t do anything to it,” the technician said bitterly.

“Is there any way to block it? Tomorrow, top star Liu Zizi will be coming to Yaya for a live broadcast. That stream must be gone by today! Give me its room number—I want to see what kind of trick this is.”

A few hours later, Zhang Jun was silent. The employees clustered around him were silent as well. After several minutes, Zhang Jun finally spoke. “Do you think this could be real?”

“Boss, I think it’s likely. This doesn’t look like a carefully staged set. Maybe someone really has traveled to another world,” said the chief editor of Yaya Live.

Zhang Jun tapped his finger on the desk, deep in thought. The others were wise enough not to disturb him.

“For now, promote this stream and this streamer with everything we’ve got. Use as many bots as you can. A time-travel stream! Hahaha, something this eye-catching might just make Yaya the world’s largest streaming platform!” Zhang Jun’s acumen as a businessman instantly roused his colleagues.

“What about Liu Zizi?” the chief editor asked hesitantly.

“Never mind being a top star—even superstars have to make way for a stream like this. Just give her a few of the prime recommendation slots,” Zhang Jun replied, understanding where his priorities lay.

“So, what kind of contract should we offer this Chen Bo?” an editor asked foolishly.

Zhang Jun’s expression grew odd, then he burst out laughing, and the office joined in.

“You fool, even if you offered Chen Bo a hundred million a day, how would you give it to him? How would he sign? It’s better to just keep tipping him gold coins every day,” another editor joked.