LOL: I'm in the LPL, that's my fight!

Chapter 29: Sometimes, making it into the LPL is more fulfilling than being a starter directly throu

[666!]

[Solo kill, still solo kill, can you even dominate in high-level games?]

[Holy crap, this Ryze, if you covered up the ID, I'd think it was Faker!]

[Your positioning completely dodged all of the enemy's skills. If I told you to play the Thunder Mage, would you actually play Thunder here?]

[Wow, that's some speed! I could click my mouse until it's worn out and still not get it right.]

[I initially thought the "number one in the Chinese server" claim was just clickbait, but after logging in, I realized I was the real clown.]

[This tower dive and solo kill was so sudden, the turret didn't even have time to react! Hilarious!]

【No, what nonsense are you guys talking about? Why are you all focusing on the streamer's gameplay? Isn't the real threat his awareness? He's carrying a Master-level jungler, doing the work of two people, from ganking and counter-ganking to controlling resources...】

[My goodness! Even as a Diamond player in a Gold game, I can't get all four teammates to listen to me, but Crush managed to do it in a Challenger game.]

Teammate: Who wouldn't like getting points without even thinking?

[I'm so envious of Crush's duo queue teammates!]

[When I encounter a mid laner like this in ranked games, I just AFK. They don't deserve to play with me.]

[Wake up, buddy up! You'll never find your crush!]

In the live stream room named BJBS-Crush, the barrage of comments poured down like a waterfall.

From attracting hundreds of viewers with a single treasure map announcement at the start of the broadcast to nearly ten thousand viewers in the live stream at this moment, Fu Shiyan only needed three games of King of Glory.

Three games, three consecutive wins, three different heroes, but each game was an MVP-level, dominant performance.

The player with the online ID "福蝶" was one of the many viewers flooding the live stream chat with comments.

Initially, like most people, he only clicked on Crush's live stream because of the extra gold coins from the treasure map gifted by the wealthy player. As a veteran League of Legends player, he was familiar with the ID Crush—a top-ten solo queue player in the Chinese server who climbed from Master to Challenger in just over a week with an almost absurd win rate.

On platforms like Duowan Box and BigFoot, many content creators have already edited highlight reels for him.

In Fukucho's original impression, Crush was just another "manually challenging" character, with nothing particularly noteworthy.

After all, we've seen too many amazing players in recent years—Dopa, who dominates the top spot, and Faker, the Demon King who outplayed a full-health Zed with a low-health Zed. Which one of them doesn't have a page or two of inhuman highlight reels?

But until today, when he first watched the entire match from Crush's first-person perspective, Fukucho realized that he was wrong.

It's quite wrong.

Last hitting? Mechanics? Or a lightning-fast reaction?

No, those are just the most superficial talents of Crush, this monstrous genius.

What's truly terrifying about this person is his almost prophetic awareness and ability to interpret situations.

What normal person can analyze the strengths and weaknesses of the opposing team's lineup and their power spikes at different times in just a few words in the opening chat channel?

What's even more outrageous is that the enemy support only has one less ward and one less mana for a skill, yet you can predict the enemy jungler's jungle route from start to finish.

What do you mean by "I can direct the enemy jungler to gank which lane"? How can you even say something like that?

Moreover, no matter what the other side is doing, you can always guess it with almost perfect accuracy, as if you have X-ray vision. It's not like you've turned on some kind of cheat code or turned off the fog of war.

Furthermore, you're managing everything: when the top laner should recall to buy items, when the duo laner should let the lane pass, and when they should push the lane. Can one person really manage to control so many details simultaneously?

The viewers in the live stream were completely outraged.

Not just ordinary viewers.

Those high-ranked players who had been matched against Crush in ranked games and lost in an extremely frustrating way rushed to watch after learning that this devil was streaming on Huya today—and then fell into a long silence.

Okay, we've found the reason why we lost so inexplicably.

Wait, whose professional team's commander has been released?

It's just a ranked game, why are players who are obsessed with getting kills carrying two control wards each in the mid lane and jungle?

And you guys who team up with Crush, look at yourselves—you believe whatever others say, you go back to base when told to, you engage in team fights when told to, you have no class whatsoever.

Okay, I've given them to you all, alright?

Faced with the skyrocketing number of viewers and the incredibly lively chat, Fu Shiyan was somewhat surprised, even though he had expected it.

The reason he "predicted" this is because he knew his stream wouldn't be deserted. After all, his ranked rank was there, and with the recent spontaneous promotion from many video editing bloggers and high-ranking players, his ID was already somewhat well-known among League of Legends fans.

Moreover, with Boss Mo's "money power" as a starting buff, attracting the first batch of viewers and then keeping them with high-quality ranked content should not be a big problem.

But with nearly 10,000 people online right now, that seems quite abnormal.

"Have some water, take a break, and we'll continue after we've had a short rest."

Fu Shiyan said something to the live stream audience, then picked up his phone and entered Huya Live.

When he saw the promotional banners hanging on the homepage and in the corners of various streamers' rooms, he immediately understood.

"Huya is... giving us a huge boost in traffic?"

That's bold!

Looking at the scene before him and glancing at the words on the banner, Fu Shiyan, who had once been in management, instantly understood the operational strategy of the live streaming platform and couldn't help but sigh inwardly.

Of course, this is definitely a good thing for him.

Getting access to the platform's traffic even before signing a contract is a rare opportunity; you'd be lucky to find one like this even with a lantern.

He saw the private messages in the background, but he didn't plan to reply.

He hasn't even secured the title of number one in the Chinese server yet, so any talk of signing a contract will have to wait until he truly reaches the top.

Although in the esports circle, online fame does not equal offline strength, and it is easy to be questioned, and there is a common situation of "being as fierce as a tiger in ranked games, but as bad as a dog in competitions".

But whether you can demonstrate the true strength to reach the top, the treatment in your live streaming contract will be vastly different from that of other platforms.

Crush looks like he's just turned 18, why doesn't he consider going pro?

[Yeah, we usually criticize someone for being incredibly strong in ranked games. With Crush's awareness and leadership, he wouldn't be much worse in professional matches.]

[Where are all the LPL teams? Can't they see such strong players? Why are they all fawning over the Koreans?]

After his tactical water break ended and he returned to the live stream, Fu Shiyan saw a barrage of questions asking why he wasn't a professional player.

After pondering for two seconds, the young man thought of the Huya platform, which was currently pushing streams at a normal and frantic pace, and suddenly had an answer in his mind: instant fame.

[Of course I'll play professionally!]

[But don't you guys think it would be more interesting for me to make it through the City Championship than to try out for an LPL team directly?]