Chapter 45: Team Brand!

A personal brand is not comparable to a mature esports club brand.

Jiang Ming understood better than anyone else the source of his success: “JM” was merely lucky, leveraging his foresight to get ahead of others and become the pig riding the windfall.

But this trend would eventually fade.

Whether it was the number one player in the domestic server, a League of Legends tutorial creator, or even a live streamer now enjoying immense popularity with at least a hundred thousand viewers per broadcast, all would be crushed by the great wheel of time.

Haven’t you seen those video creators and streamers who rode the early wave of the internet boom? As League of Legends developed, competition grew fiercer and rules became more refined—how many of them vanished into the torrent of history?

Yes, one could attribute part of the reason to those who benefited from the era’s windfalls having low educational and cultural levels, narrow horizons, and thus becoming complacent after achieving some success.

But who could guarantee you’d never grow tiresome to your audience, or that you’d truly outcompete the capital that arrived later once the era’s windfalls vanished completely?

Moreover, a personal brand carries too much uncertainty.

Look at celebrities with far greater traffic and attention—trying to launch their own streetwear brands, they still struggle mightily, with failures outnumbering successes like fish crossing a river.

In contrast, some corporate brands survive at minimal cost, thanks to their own established operational rules.

So this step, Jiang Ming had long decided to take—and he had to take it early.

After all, the earlier he shifted, while his windfall still lasted, the more new players he could continuously draw in.

To current players, the difference between “JM” and “NXG” was negligible.

It’s wise to know oneself clearly: since he couldn’t replicate Faker’s success in the professional player realm, he might as well plan ahead.

From a game participant, become a rule-maker of the game.

Jiang Ming’s earlier actions, seemingly foolishly pouring resources into NXG, were known only to him: this wouldn’t last long; on the contrary, NXG would repay him a hundred or a thousandfold.

Here’s the simplest data: in 2013, an LPL slot was valued at around three to four hundred thousand yuan; just four years later, its valuation reached 90 million!

Clearly, Jiang Ming’s explanation convinced Yu Qun.

“I’ll go back and fight for more resource support—we’ll do this right.”

“If we’re stingy, others will surely laugh at us.”

In the remaining time, the management school’s big shots further inquired into NXG’s operational model, professional management of esports athletes, and future development; finally, they extracted from Jiang Ming his ideas on the youth training system, obtaining first-hand data on esports club operations before leaving satisfied.

After seeing off the senior figures from his own school, Jiang Ming finally let out a heavy breath.

He wasn’t worried the professors would leak information or harbor other intentions; in the eyes of the faculty at Jinling University—men and women twice his age—esports held some future economic potential, but far less political value than the research breakthroughs it represented.

In short, for professors at this level, securing a departmental position was what mattered most.

Besides, you don’t really think these management school big shots have only one job as university teachers, do you?

Ultimately, without any cheat codes or influential background, if he didn’t want to be completely devoured by later capital after achieving success in S3, clinging tightly to the university and its professors was his only path.

…

Ding! Ding!

On WeChat, Lin Jingyi sent a message: “Our team’s first uniform design draft is ready—want to take a look?”

So fast?

After bidding farewell to his professors, seeing Lin Xue’s message, Jiang Ming simply turned on the computer in the newly installed training room.

“Send it to my email—make sure the original file is high-res.”

Soon, Jiang Ming downloaded the attachment named “NXG Team Uniform Design Draft” from his QQ email onto his computer.

He clicked to open it.

Jiang Ming raised an eyebrow at the image before him.

Quality… surprisingly good.

On the other end of the phone, Lin Jingyi assumed Jiang Ming had seen the image and typed rapidly.

“What do you think? The design student I hired is incredibly talented, and she’s only a freshman.”

“Freshman??”

Jiang Ming was even more surprised—this stylish, trend-setting outfit he’d assumed came from a college student was now revealed to be the work of a first-year newcomer.

“Hehe, surprised? I’ll tell you, when I first saw this version, my eyes nearly popped out—I didn’t even need to consider revisions, second or third drafts.”

“Boss, what do you think?”

Jiang Ming: “...”

As a wicked client, he really wanted to say, “Maybe do one or two more revisions—compare them to pick the final version.”

But like Lin Jingyi, Jiang Ming’s soul was instantly captured by the uniform design at first glance.

The designer had perfectly realized his vision for the esports jersey.

The undershirt paired with long-sleeve and short-sleeve outerwear maximized visual impact.

Meanwhile, the black-and-white palette, accented with subtle red, avoided the awkward clash between traditional ink-wash style and esports elements.

Clean, sharp, and with a touch of sophistication.

Compared to other LPL team uniforms from S3, it was a complete downgrade for them.

(I found an old OMG uniform—honestly, that one was still among the better-looking ones.)

“Confirmed. Transfer payment, get the original files, and have our online store’s clothing manufacturer make a few samples to test the effect,” Jiang Ming typed. “If it works, we’ll use it for our next matches.”

Lin Jingyi had no objections: “Alright!”

Jiang Ming was in such a hurry because he wanted NXG to deliver a fresh, stunning visual impact the moment it entered the LPL.

To refresh the entrenched negative impressions of esports athletes among domestic players and casual viewers.

If the first step was solid, and NXG maintained its performance, he could then launch matching seasonal apparel through the online store—this was the most basic form of esports monetization.

At this stage, professional teams were still exploring; none realized they could invest in player image like celebrities and turn it into merchandise traffic.

Remember, even the hideously ugly LPL team uniforms from the past had fans buying them for support—how much more would they buy this deliberately designed, trendy uniform?

“Oh, by the way, ask this design student if she’s interested in a long-term partnership to design exclusive streetwear for NXG—terms negotiable.”

“I’ll reach out—this girl’s a hot commodity in the design department; I heard an old professor already snatched her up… if all else fails, we can still ask the professor (with a laugh).”

China simply doesn’t lack geniuses—most people lack only the platform to train and showcase themselves.

Even the small county of Pei produced countless legendary strategists and generals under Liu Bang—how much more so a national university like Jinling?

“With the uniform settled, everything is now in place.”

Standing below the building, Jiang Ming looked up at the team base under renovation, smiling brightly, “Now we only need the super tailwind of the LPL professional league.”