Chapter 5: Go Home and Raise Pigs!

In the CRT monitor array of Zhujang Road Internet Cafe, station #17 was hosting a small pilgrimage. Three packs of Nanjing cigarettes stacked as a makeshift stand displayed a slow-motion replay of a tower-raid kill—when the execution mark exploded, a chorus of metallic clatters rose from the back row: over thirty mineral water bottles hitting the floor in tribute.

"Rewind! Rewind and watch the energy control!" The yellow-haired net bar attendant squeezed through the crowd, his T-shirt bearing the spray-painted "Noxus Guillotine" now smudged by sweat. "This guy's definitely using a script—who calculates energy down to the single digit?"

No one disputed it. Everyone held their breath as Jiang Ming demonstrated "Shadow Brush" in the video: the instant W linked with E to trigger energy recovery, Jax abruptly turned at a right angle, grazing past the Blind Monk's Sonic Wave—precise as a compass-drawn evasion path.

"Fuck! This play's good enough to brag about for three years!" The boy playing the Sword Saint slammed his keyboard, the spacebar spring launching upward and striking the ceiling. The attendant silently noted the moment, planning to add "Safety belts required when watching JM's videos" to the shop rules the next day.

When the progress bar reached the equipment analysis segment, someone suddenly tapped Lin Xiao on the shoulder. Turning, he saw two boys with dark circles under their eyes, standing at the very end of the all-night queue; the leader rubbed his hands and smiled: "Bro, can you cast this to the big screen? We'll pay for your internet."

"Sure, no problem."

"This positioning, this awareness..." After the video was projected onto the big screen, many players waiting to queue for the game stared in awe. "This guy is fucking insane!"

"If JM hadn't been distracted by streaming, he'd be #1 in the national server—this guy learns new champions too fast."

Anyone who knows the new champion knows: they're all numerical monsters. Grab them early before they're nerfed—guaranteed climb.

But the problem is this: starting from scratch, just mastering the skill mechanics takes time, let alone all the intricate details afterward.

As the video was uploaded across major platforms and views surged, countless viewers marveled at Jiang Ming's extraordinary talent and deep game understanding—he had already mastered lightning control over the new champion by day three, dissecting its entire mechanics from head to toe in the video.

Soon, Jiang Ming's new champion tutorial entered the field of view of many professional team players. Their reactions were identical to those of ordinary players.

Shanghai WE Training Base.

Inside the room, the IPL5 championship trophy glowed coldly before the tactical whiteboard.

In front of a row of clustered computers, a boy with a bowl cut was straining over his screen.

Ming Kai, having just finished a ranked match, seamlessly transitioned into the next queue. As a player who had long dominated the national ladder, he needed massive match volume just to avoid being pushed down by the pack below.

Ming Kai's mouse scroll wheel emitted a faint friction sound. On screen, the Shadow Assassin slipped through the three-wolf wall at an impossible angle. At the 47-second mark, he lightly tapped the spacebar, freezing the frame on the vision ward planted 0.3 seconds before the enemy jungler's death.

"This guy's awareness is insane," the curly-haired support tore open a snack pack and leaned close. "Try some!" Cucumber-flavored crumbs fell onto the mousepad emblazoned with the WE logo.

Jiang Ming's voice synced from the video: 【Never walk in to check vision here. If there's someone in the brush, a double E with shadow grants energy recovery.】

In-game, a Shadow Clone followed by Ghost Strike; the Jax, sensing the brush's occupant via energy recovery, took tiny sidesteps to dodge the Sonic Wave hurtling through the fog—the Blind Monk's gank was preemptively countered.

Ming Kai's monitor froze on a detail: at 25:13, Jiang Ming pinged the dragon pit three times—just as the enemy jungler had returned to base to place a true sight ward. He pulled up WE's training match footage against SKT and found their second-team midlaner had made the exact same mark at the same timestamp.

"This isn't talent," Ming Kai bit through his instant noodles. "This is fucking prophecy."

"The Shadow Assassin looks like it'll be the new season's darling," the curly-haired support nodded. "Our global flow has been gutted."

Ming Kai picked up the tactical board and drew a skull next to the name "Jax."

"What about Ruofeng? How's his assassin practice going?"

"He and Weixiao were busy with events all day—they're asleep. I haven't checked yet," the curly-haired support answered without hesitation.

The bowl-cut boy frowned slightly, but with no one else in the room, he couldn't vent at his friend. He muttered under his breath: "Everyone knows it's an assassin patch—he still won't practice? What's he gonna show at LPL opening with this level?"

"If you're bad and won't practice, why even play pro? Just go home and raise pigs..."

"We can't help it—we need to survive. We have to take the commercial gigs."

Behind Ming Kai and the curly-haired support, a sharp voice rang out.

Abu barged in, arms full of documents, clutching the latest edition of the "Esports Manager Certification Exam Outline."

Ming Kai glanced back at Abi, said nothing, and kept watching the video.

"I've been following this video blogger too—he's a midlaner with serious skill and deep game understanding."

"Especially in champion mechanics—he's figured out every new champion within two days of release for the past six months."

"Should we try inviting him to join WE as a pro?"

In Ming Kai's view, a midlaner this strong—if he joined their team...

"Hah, what are you thinking?" Before Abi could speak, the curly-haired support burst out laughing. "He's currently the top-tier League of Legends tutorial blogger—his YY live room sometimes draws more viewers than ours. One time, his fans leaked he's a student at Jin Ling University. How's he gonna quit that to become a pro like us?"

Abi continued: "Before us, IG actually tried recruiting him too."

"IG?"

"Zhi Tai plays mid for IG, right? He's top-tier—why would they replace him so fast?"

"Probably not. They likely recognized JM's game understanding. Many other regions now have coaching staffs—IG probably wants to follow suit."

"Did JM accept IG's offer?"

"Nope." Abi flipped through his papers. "Last week, JM publicly recruited high-ranked players on stream and formed a team called NXG—he seems to want to lead it into pro play himself."

At this, Ming Kai and the curly-haired support froze.

Indeed—who'd risk the battlefield when they could be the boss?

"Looks like JM made a fortune selling meat buns..." the curly-haired support sighed.

"He definitely made a fortune. Every JM video is terrifyingly high-quality—high-rank gameplay plus meticulous commentary, each gets at least hundreds of thousands of views. Even if only one percent of viewers visit his shop, that's an insane number." Abi perked up mentioning JM's online store. "A lot of us in the scene think his business model is worth copying: use livestreams or videos to drive traffic to Taobao, turning viewers into customers—a major monetization method for esports teams."

"Taobao store, monetization—like selling meat buns like him?"

"It's not just meat buns. I checked JM's Taobao shop—he sells snacks, esports peripherals, even trendy clothing. He's making at least a hundred thousand a month."

Abi's tone dripped with envy.

No wonder—he's a top student from Jin Ling University. His brain's just sharper than ours. A college kid making a hundred thousand a month!

The curly-haired support suddenly remembered something and pulled up his Taobao order history: "Last week I bought meat buns—the shipping origin was Jin Ling University Entrepreneurship Park... Holy shit! He sent WE's base free samples!"