Investment Review

Ugh, totally went off track!

Sang Yu snaps back to reality.

He'd opened the file to check if he'd invested in any e-sports clubs. Somehow ended up spiraling into 3D movies.

Can't pull all-nighters anymore. Attention span's completely shot.

Sang Yu gets back to business.

One page, two pages...

Nothing.

Huh. No related investments at all.

How did e-sports slip through the net?!

Sang Yu's whole investment strategy is cast-a-wide-net. That's why there are so many different sectors. But he missed e-sports? Wild.

Not too late to invest now.

Just find an existing club.

Thinking about it like that, it's basically a custom 'after-school program' for Peng Lejia. Sang Yu cracks himself up at the comparison.

Sang Yu spins once in his chair.

Everyone knows e-sports is an age game. The golden window is fixed.

Peng Lejia waiting until adulthood to start training — should be fine, right?

Sang Yu's not sure.

What's the prime age for e-sports players anyway? Seventeen, eighteen, early twenties?

Either way, he's leaving the door open for Peng Lejia. Whether he stays in the club long-term and gets sent out to compete — that's all on his skill.

Thinking about all this, Sang Yu's itch to 'go beast mode in a game' flares up. One match?

Just finished The Martial World. Fingers are warmed up.

Feels like a win incoming.

...

Delusion.

Sang Yu's expression goes ice cold.

Thought he was doing great on this account he'd picked back up. 12 kills, 6 assists, top MVP score.

But that 'DEFEAT' screen. A teammate left a message. Pure provocation.

A 0-0 player complaining that Sang Yu went lone wolf and didn't carry them?!

Passing the blame?

The audacity.

Why are random teammates in multiplayer always the stubborn solo hero who won't listen? Always dumb as a brick?

Three out of four players doing god knows what. One person can only drag the plane so far. Winning would've been the ninth wonder of the world.

Sang Yu takes a deep breath: '...'

Getting too entitled. Missing that old-money composure, ease, and class.

Gotta build character in everyday life...

Screw character.

Report.

Might as well queue again. Can't be this unlucky forever. Gotta hit a normal person eventually, right?

·

Sang Yu lost every shred of elegance. Gamed all day. Nearly lost his human form. Pulled back from the edge just in time.

Random teammates clearly aren't working. Time to take initiative —

Spend money. Hire a high-rank carry.

Back before Sang Yu made it, gaming was pure leisure. Getting blinded by idiot teammates just meant queuing again.

Rarely hired carries.

Mainly because he was broke.

Watched classmates hire carries and boosters. Honestly, back then Sang Yu was a little envious.

This time, that high schooler Peng Lejia sparked something. Unlocked a long-buried memory. Time to flex the cash.

Not just anyone either. Gotta find someone good.

A regular carry won't cut it anymore. If he's going to hire, might as well go straight to the pros in the e-sports world.

Players who've competed in nationals and internationals, names on the leaderboard. Clubs with real talent.

Sang Yu knows a bit about the players. Knows their skill level — he's watched their matches after all.

No way they'd throw.

Absolutely going to get carried hard.

As for whether being escorted all the way to victory would feel too easy, too lacking in game experience?

Sang Yu: go all out and lose versus get carried to a win — pick the second one.

Enjoy it first!

The 'experience' thing is too abstract. But losing? That soul-eating feeling makes you want to bite someone.

Hiring carries apparently has a bad rep in the scene. Sang Yu hasn't gone deep into that world, so he only half-gets it.

Switch the framing then — call it a business collaboration. Getting familiar with a potential partner?

After all, he's genuinely going to invest a bit in that club. Good enough reason.

Sometimes, spending a little to boost your own 'experience value' is worth it.

DOH.

Just landed their latest side gig.

DOH used to be glorious. Runner-up at the international tournament three years back.

They say nobody remembers second place. But that year they came within a hair of first. Fans went absolutely feral.

Then the next year, fell short again.

Promised to come back the third year. Determined to shake off the 'eternal second place' label.

Then the club imploded. One of the major shareholders lost his mind, embezzled the funds, and bolted. DOH's operations collapsed.

Left a pile of wreckage for everyone who'd staked their whole youth on this path.

Young players left, got poached. Made sense — they had potential.

Staying in a crumbling club just wastes your prime years.

As for the veterans...

Some couldn't leave.

Locked in by contracts. Nobody came to poach them.

Some got platform invites. Can't keep up with the young guns in real competition anymore, but streaming? More than enough.

Better floor than DOH. More security than rotting away there.

Some old-timers stayed. Trained every day, keeping their edge —

No spot on a new roster, stuck in limbo. Better to stay and gamble on the second-half tournament rankings. Plus, there's that little something called loyalty to DOH...

This skeleton crew got dubbed 'a room full of the old and broken' by netizens.

Funding was also a massive problem.

Day-to-day club operations, player training, food, housing, equipment maintenance — all massive expenses.

Back when DOH was hot, there were endorsements, sponsorships, appearance fees, all kinds of income. Now almost all of that's been cut.

Running at a deficit overall.

If the second-half tournament doesn't go well, DOH could go straight from 'barely holding on' to 'name only, no substance.'

Nobody said it out loud. But everyone trained every day under crushing pressure.

Then their coach Shao Fei — nicknamed Shao Fei the Chubby — walked in with good news.

Everyone froze.

'A hundred grand for one carry session?! Per person... or everyone together?'

Shao Fei: 'Per person.'

The club sponsorship is separate.

Shao Fei's face was caught between pure joy and forced calm. That weird almost-smiling expression looked almost comical.

'Our club doesn't officially ban carries, but publicly, nobody mention it. Use alt accounts when you play. Don't stir up drama.'

In some people's eyes, carries are a pointless waste that messes with player form. But DOH genuinely couldn't make ends meet.

That price tag was way too eye-catching.

Every player's eyes went wide.

'I'm worth that much?!'

'Bro Shao Fei, is it April Fools? Don't mess with me. I'm fragile and naive, I'll actually believe it!'

Shao Fei: 'You can believe it.'

For real.

That number got confirmed three times. Not a hallucination.

Not even talking about the future — next month's base operating costs finally had a source.

This client is well-known online. No risk of ghosting. Not in front of the players, so no worries there.

Shao Fei emphasizes Boss Sang's requirements.

'My goal this month — turn this sponsor into a long-term relationship!'

'The client's surname is Sang. Call them Boss Sang. Don't go digging for their name.'

'Don't stream the matches you play with them. After it's done, don't leak any related information to anyone. Keep your mouths shut.'

'Voice, age, anything said in conversation. Swallow it all. Got it?'

Boss Sang?

The players felt that mix of familiar and unfamiliar.

Unfamiliar because not many of them watch dramas. Familiar because those massive giveaways had made serious waves.

Even people outside the scene knew. Just couldn't place the face right away.

A player excitedly raised their hand: 'When do we play? Anyone specified? If yes, how many matches?'

'miaole, pupu, and top are specified. Three matches to start. Exact count depends on what the client wants going forward.'

Boss Sang's side hadn't played many matches yet. Paid for three sessions upfront as a deposit.

So generous!

The players not called: 'Ah...'

So gutted?!

But then everyone looked at the three picked teammates. All veterans. Guess the client trusts the 'old guard' more?

Shao Fei claps: 'Tonight. We play tonight.'

Reminder: 'Add them as a friend first. Bring your real A-game. Make the client feel right at home!'

'Give it everything. Make sure Boss Sang has a great time. Do not get a bad review. This is life or death. Understood?'

Everyone: 'Understood!'

Hiring a carry is all about emotional value.

Might not be smooth talkers, but they can deliver — everyone's skill set is pretty one-dimensional anyway. Gaming. That's it.

Full bodyguard mode the whole time. Clear every obstacle for Boss Sang. How hard can that be?

Main thing — gotta be worth that hundred grand!

·

For Sang Yu, this decision was absolutely the right call.

Gaming with actual competent teammates felt like a total reset. Not just smooth coordination — everyone revolving around him.

Plus, players he already had a good impression of. Satisfaction +1.

Is this what fan-meeting feels like?

Wait, no. Not a fan. Just a good impression.

The reason Sang Yu chose DOH — having players he liked was only part of it. He has good impressions of plenty of people.

The other part: DOH had fallen.

Maybe there's something in human nature that loves a 'rescue the damsel' moment — or rather, helping people you already liked out of a rough spot.

Compared to chasing a hot club, Sang Yu was way more interested in DOH.

Perfect two-birds-one-stone — DOH needs money, he can invest; DOH needs people, he can send Peng Lejia an offer.

Two problems solved.

No, three.

He can finally play real games.

Normal-human teammates slash babysitter squad: online.

With three pros by his side, the security was unmatched. Sang Yu stopped playing it safe entirely and went full aggro.

Someone nearby? Rush them, go guns blazing.

Enemy squad spotted? Surround and wipe.

Hail of bullets? Charge straight in.

(Never mind the hail of bullets — the more chaotic it got, the harder he pushed.)

Hardly any enemy made it to his face. Got grazed once, health barely dropped, got healed up immediately.

End of the match, one sentence: 'Getting carried feels so damn good...'

Sang Yu was getting addicted.

Felt unstoppable. Queued again and again.

Money raining down on the club. The so-called 'room full of the old and broken' DOH looked like it had found a second wind. Massive energy boost.

The players got hyped too. Playing harder and harder. Throwing in flashy moves to keep things fun and keep Boss Sang happy.

Calling it 'racking their brains' wouldn't be an exaggeration.

Every single match, minds running at full speed, nearly smoking. More draining than scrimmages. Exhausted but weirdly happy.

Beyond the original three veteran players, Sang Yu's novelty-seeking kicked in and he cycled through several new ones.

Suddenly the carry slots became the hottest thing in the club.

Everyone brought out everything they had. Showing off. Competing for the spot.

With that kind of drive, form improved too. Scrimmages started going clean.

Word quietly leaked outside.

Pro players' practice alt accounts are semi-public. High-rank fans who play a lot can sometimes catch them in the wild.

Over a week, more people active, game hours spiking — a DOH that seemed to have 'come back to life' got spotted multiple times.

But something's off!

Who lit a fire under them?

Pull up the schedule and you'd notice — the two groups were mostly playing at different times. Wait... did DOH sell their computers because the base is broke? Can't all log on at once?

Also, why did everyone's stream frequency drop? Slacking off? Is this energy real or fake?

So why?

The answer came out later.

·

Playing games with Sang Yu, everyone basically pampered and coddled him, keeping him happy.

So the flashy plays kept coming one after another. Occasionally running into streamers, naturally got clipped and spread all over the internet.

'Is this the power of carrying a girl? Sprayed her with a few bursts and three animals rushed me and wiped me out'

'There's a god in the desert map, competing on headshot rate — if you don't headshot and don't finish, the disrespect is too real!'

'Got herded like a sheep in-game, how does that feel?'

...

No way it wasn't going to blow up.

Also got the players' fans noticing the IDs in the clips.

Who are these people?

Some of those moves, that level of synergy — not something just anyone can pull off.

Using that sense of familiarity, combined with known ID naming habits, one person got identified. Then gradually more familiar faces got matched up.

People started decoding. Nothing official confirmed it, but it spread in small circles.

Except for one unfamiliar ID: [y_0].

As for the theory of a 'three-carry-one' fixed squad, fans didn't buy it at first.

But after several more days, that unseen account kept showing up.

In sessions where people ran into them, the other players were clearly extra attentive to this one.

Whether it was a kill about to be secured, a rare weapon, or a med kit — all handed over without hesitation.

So much babying.

No way, right?

...Who is this?

Could it be one of the players' girlfriends?!

Most likely!

Netizens unleashed Sherlock-level deduction. Started combing through every trace of [y_0]'s performance and match history.

Final conclusion — this person is absolutely not a pro player.

Would be bottom of the barrel even in a youth training camp.

The positioning, the game sense, the shooting rhythm — clearly a casual player. A casual player whose guts are way bigger than their skill.

Worth playing with someone like that?

Is DOH actually throwing?

You were glorious once. This is too much of a joke?!

Some of the remaining fans were devastated. Went straight to DOH's official account to call them out. Anyone managing this? Actually going bankrupt?!

If it's a girlfriend, fine, whatever, tolerable.

Because of a girlfriend neglecting training? Tolerate what exactly?!

Some said the club was deadweight. Some said the players were letting themselves go. Some said DOH deserved to go bankrupt if this kept up.

Someone started writing a long post: 'Since you chose to stay at DOH, do you deserve to wear that jersey?'

DOH: '...'

Wait, they thought they'd faded into obscurity. Turns out this many people still care?

This situation is moving a little fast. Everyone hold off on the disappointment for now?!

The official account was quietly drafting a response behind the scenes.

Some entertainment accounts' comment sections started dunking on DOH.

Not fans, clearly.

Because e-sports is also a fandom scene. The 'fandom' kind of scene.

These days, no circle escapes getting fandom-ified.

So DOH had its share of antis too.

Some old rivals who'd lost to them back in the day, watching the drama, stirring the pot. Typing a few words costs nothing anyway.

Piling on DOH, adding to the mess. Easy.

Online, who can verify anyone's identity?

But scroll to the bottom of the comments, oldest first, and there's a different vibe entirely.

[This ID... why does it look kinda familiar?]

[Boss Sang, is that you?]

[Anyone here who follows both Domestic Entertainment and competitive gaming? I've got a feeling something's not quite right...]