Chapter 1: Dear, Want a Sesame Cake?
“Play with your brain, climbing ranks is easy!”
“Hello everyone! This is JM’s new hero, new insights class—Ah Ming’s Classroom!”
“Today, we’re going to break down the newly released hero: the Shadow Assassin—Jie.”
“Many of you must already be drawn to this master assassin from Ionia—so how do you master him? What’s his optimal build? And once you gain an advantage, how do you lead your team to victory?”
“Eyes wide open and watch closely! Ah Ming will reveal the answers using a real high-rank match from the national server at 2300 rating!”
On November 30, 2012, in a rented apartment in the university district of Jin Ling, Jiangsu Province.
Jiang Ming quickly recorded the video’s opening lines, his eyes occasionally glancing at the script on the document to his right.
The computer screen played a high-rank match recording that had raged from dawn until late night.
After confirming the audio was clean, he tapped a shortcut key with his left hand to sync the audio track with the video clips, then clenched his right fist and lightly pounded the desk: “Continue!”
“Continue!”
This was just the beginning—there was still a ten-thousand-li journey ahead of him.
“First, let’s understand the Shadow Assassin—Jie’s passive and four active skills. Passive (Shadow Technique: Soul Sever): Jie’s basic attacks deal bonus magic damage to targets below 50% health…”
“Undoubtedly, this ninja is a perfect embodiment of a high-skill-cap assassin.”
“For build, Ah Ming recommends prioritizing attack damage and armor penetration. Since Jie is a skill-based assassin, cooldown reduction is essential—Black Cleaver is undoubtedly an ideal item; its component, Brutalizer, provides smooth synergy. Of course, the Bloodthirster, which grants up to 100 attack damage at full stacks, is also a solid choice.”
“…”
“Jie’s core skill is undoubtedly his W—how skillfully you use his shadows is the most direct measure of whether a player is a beginner Jie, a seasoned ninja, or even a Kage.”
Without a word, Jiang Ming created a signature meme in the video, paused it, and picked up the water cup on the desk, gulping down several mouthfuls.
Glug! Glug! Glug!
Yes, yes—the young man making this tutorial video—
Jiang Ming, male, nineteen years old.
A second-year student in the School of Economics and Management at Jin Ling University, a game streamer on YY Platform, a League of Legends video creator, and… a reincarnator.
As a reincarnator, he did not join the clichéd ranks of orphaned protagonists whose parents died, whose past lives were filled with suffering, whose wives ran off with others, whose heads glowed green, and who swore to rewrite their fate.
In his previous life, Jiang Ming’s life wasn’t wealthy, but it was decent—his family was healthy, he had no major illnesses, he had few friends, but a couple he could call to discuss national affairs (or crimes), his job was passable, his salary was acceptable, and his car and house loans weren’t unbearable.
So the typical blue system that reincarnators always get seemed to have passed him by.
“So why reincarnate?”
“To go through university again.”
“To write a thesis after graduation.”
“To find a job after passing the thesis—and still be unhappy.”
“I really don’t want to relive the agony of pulling all-nighters to write a thesis!”
“I don’t want to endure the life of a salaryman forced to work during the New Year again.”
“You’ll lose a lot of hair before thirty.”
Jiang Ming thought long and hard. Since he had no lost love from his naive youth to make up for, what he needed to correct through reincarnation was this: back then, he’d had real talent, but his parents strongly opposed his decision to quit his program at a top-tier university to become a professional gamer. And when he was nearly thirty, he finally mustered the courage to buy a ticket to a live esports tournament—only to witness T1 pull off a 3-kill streak, wanting to yell “F*** you—refund my money!”—but before the words left his lips, he blacked out and woke up again, right here, right now.
So from his freshman year, Jiang Ming had been plotting how to convince his parents to let him drop out and enter the esports scene.
Jiang Ming: I want to go pro.
Parents: No, you don’t.
Of course, from today’s perspective, a career as a gamer—unstable, viewed by ordinary parents as a monster, paying only two or three thousand a month—is nowhere near as appealing as the future of a graduate from a top university working as a white-collar office worker with air conditioning, coffee, and a steady paycheck.
Key point: this industry is still called “gaming.” The term “esports” wouldn’t be widely recognized or accepted until next year, when the National Sports General Administration established China’s national esports team.
So his parents’ refusal in his first life was perfectly normal; Jiang Ming didn’t expect them to change their minds even if he lived it again.
Therefore, Jiang Ming didn’t cry, scream, threaten suicide, or run away from home with a letter saying “Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west—don’t underestimate a young man!” to prove himself in esports. Nor did he try to reason with them, explaining how brilliant the esports industry would be in the coming years.
A simple truth: actions speak louder than words. Once he had concrete achievements to show them, his parents wouldn’t oppose his choice.
What he was doing right now was one piece of his future plan.
Leveraging his decent esports talent and his decade-ahead understanding of the game’s meta, he reached over 2300 rank in a very short time after high school, then used that as a foundation to become a high-rank League of Legends streamer on YY Platform and a technical video creator.
And by the second half of his freshman year, after accumulating a solid fanbase, he applied for university startup funding and opened a retail store!
Yeah, on the surface, it looked like a college student’s online shop with zero connection to esports.
He recorded and edited hero breakdown videos and high-rank highlight clips, then inserted ads for his store in the middle and end of each video.
“Alright, now it’s ad time! I’m sure all my Yan Zu and Yi Fei fans won’t skip these three seconds—you don’t want to see Ah Ming starve to death making videos, right?”
“Today’s recommendation: our bestseller—Youchen Sesame Cake! Made with premium pork floss, with a flaky crust of 128 layers! Click the link below to buy a set of three and get 20% off!”
“…”
“Dear, take a sesame cake after your game—it’s amazing!”
“Buy three or more at once, or join a group purchase, and you’ll get an extra discount… Also, our store has many other snacks to choose from—copy the link below the video and search for ‘Ah Ming Snacks Store’…”
“Alright, back to our breakdown of the Shadow Assassin—Jie. As a standard assassin, weaknesses in teamfights and late game are unavoidable—but our Shadow Assassin handles these differently…”
End of Chapter
