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Chapter 170
The version update was a nerf for the entire DSG team, and for Mo Yin, the ultimate boss, it presented many challenges. Mo Yin had a deep champion pool, playing many champions well, but those he excelled at had all been nerfed.
This could be seen as the influence of the world line’s power or simply a natural plot development. When a game is dominated by a single player’s team for too long, nerfs are inevitable to maintain the excitement and entertainment value of the matches.
Both protagonists and antagonists need to grow. If they fall apart after a single nerf, they can’t be called ultimate bosses.
During this period, DSG paused their training matches, and Mo Yin used a smurf account to practice new champions and experiment with builds. He stayed up until around 2 AM every night, completely breaking his usual routine.
The effectiveness of this would be revealed in the resumed training matches.
The last time they played a training match against REAL was before the mid-season championship. That training match was intense, not in DSG’s usual style. In other words, DSG didn’t crush REAL. After the match, the coach straightforwardly said they were dragged into REAL’s pace.
At that time, Qin Kunlun had bragged, “Defeating them in their own game is our strength.”
Two months later, the cheers from the mid-season championship still echoed, and they were about to face a much stronger REAL. Could they still win with such arrogance?
In the quiet training room, Mo Yin dropped a bombshell, then casually logged into his smurf account to practice.
The team members, momentarily speechless, returned to their seats and started their own training.
If the team’s core was working this hard, how could they slack off?
Mo Yin’s smurf ID was very simple, M123, casual and thoughtless. The account had one friend, Q123, who sent a message via the game’s mobile chat app.
——[Q123: Back in half an hour.]
——[M123: 1]
Q123 was Ye Chi’s new smurf for practicing new champions this season. A smurf account allowed him to practice without worrying about OP champions being banned, and it could be used to develop secret weapons.
After two days of practicing on his smurf, Ye Chi encountered M123 in a match. He noticed the similar IDs and, after a brief lane encounter, recognized that M123 was also a smurf with a playstyle very similar to Mo Yin’s.
Ye Chi tested the waters with a thumbs-up emoji.
Half a minute later, the opponent replied with a “pathetic.”
Ye Chi burst out laughing and, after the game, switched to his main account. That evening, when Mo Yin queued on his main account, Ye Chi sent him a private message.
——[Beaten by MY: Add my smurf?]
Mo Yin didn’t reply.
The issue of who was responsible for the lost memory module in the last world was still unresolved. He evenly distributed his annoyance between the protagonist and the system.
The system, quietly playing with a ball: ?
System: “Coordinator, you just accidentally exposed your thoughts to me.”
Mo Yin: “It wasn’t an accident; it was intentional.”
System: “…”
The system fell silent, but the persistent noob continued.
——[Beaten by MY: Are you practicing champions?]
——[Beaten by MY: Low-rank games can’t train laning and solo skills.]
——[Beaten by MY: Why don’t we practice together?]
When a punching bag voluntarily offers itself, there’s no reason to refuse.
This guy seemed to have no memory of past worlds, starting as a blank slate each time. But Mo Yin, having experienced all the worlds, saw a pattern: the guy’s “fall” was happening faster each time.
The first time they met in this world, Mo Yin noticed Ye Chi looking at him strangely. It seemed that Ye Chi was a bit oblivious in this regard, probably thinking he was hiding it well.
The two added each other on their smurf accounts, and over the next few days, Mo Yin often practiced laning with Ye Chi.
Ye Chi was undeniably skilled, with very refined laning mechanics, making him an excellent practice partner. For Ye Chi, practicing laning details with a top player like Mo Yin was undoubtedly beneficial.
The system vehemently opposed Mo Yin practicing with Ye Chi, arguing that this would only make Ye Chi stronger, putting Mo Yin at a disadvantage.
Mo Yin: “I don’t need to weaken someone else to defeat them.”
The system felt frustrated yet helpless. “Coordinator, you stubbornly ignore my advice. REAL will become very strong in the summer season. The whole world will tilt in favor of the protagonist. You cannot resist the will of the world. I emphasize again, even though I don’t know what you experienced in other worlds, the energy of this world’s timeline is very strong,” the system sighed. “Now it’s too late. We can only face reality and greet failure with a smile.”
Failure? That word didn’t exist in Mo Yin’s dictionary.
He had indeed changed a lot, but some things remained constant.
Greet failure with a smile? The six words together sounded quite amusing.
Mo Yin sat down, turned his back to the others, and opened the game. “Tomorrow afternoon, we restart the training matches with REAL.”
The version update was a nerf for the entire DSG team, and for Mo Yin, the ultimate boss, it presented many challenges. Mo Yin had a deep champion pool, playing many champions well, but those he excelled at had all been nerfed.
This could be seen as the influence of the world line’s power or simply a natural plot development. When a game is dominated by a single player’s team for too long, nerfs are inevitable to maintain the excitement and entertainment value of the matches.
Both protagonists and antagonists need to grow. If they fall apart after a single nerf, they can’t be called ultimate bosses.
During this period, DSG paused their training matches, and Mo Yin used a smurf account to practice new champions and experiment with builds. He stayed up until around 2 AM every night, completely breaking his usual routine.
The effectiveness of this would be revealed in the resumed training matches.
The last time they played a training match against REAL was before the mid-season championship. That training match was intense, not in DSG’s usual style. In other words, DSG didn’t crush REAL. After the match, the coach straightforwardly said they were dragged into REAL’s pace.
At that time, Qin Kunlun had bragged, “Defeating them in their own game is our strength.”
Two months later, the cheers from the mid-season championship still echoed, and they were about to face a much stronger REAL. Could they still win with such arrogance?
In the quiet training room, Mo Yin dropped a bombshell, then casually logged into his smurf account to practice.
The team members, momentarily speechless, returned to their seats and started their own training.
If the team’s core was working this hard, how could they slack off?
Mo Yin’s smurf ID was very simple, M123, casual and thoughtless. The account had one friend, Q123, who sent a message via the game’s mobile chat app.
——[Q123: Back in half an hour.]
——[M123: 1]
Q123 was Ye Chi’s new smurf for practicing new champions this season. A smurf account allowed him to practice without worrying about OP champions being banned, and it could be used to develop secret weapons.
After two days of practicing on his smurf, Ye Chi encountered M123 in a match. He noticed the similar IDs and, after a brief lane encounter, recognized that M123 was also a smurf with a playstyle very similar to Mo Yin’s.
Ye Chi tested the waters with a thumbs-up emoji.
Half a minute later, the opponent replied with a “pathetic.”
Ye Chi burst out laughing and, after the game, switched to his main account. That evening, when Mo Yin queued on his main account, Ye Chi sent him a private message.
——[Beaten by MY: Add my smurf?]
Mo Yin didn’t reply.
The issue of who was responsible for the lost memory module in the last world was still unresolved. He evenly distributed his annoyance between the protagonist and the system.
The system, quietly playing with a ball: ?
System: “Coordinator, you just accidentally exposed your thoughts to me.”
Mo Yin: “It wasn’t an accident; it was intentional.”
System: “…”
The system fell silent, but the persistent noob continued.
——[Beaten by MY: Are you practicing champions?]
——[Beaten by MY: Low-rank games can’t train laning and solo skills.]
——[Beaten by MY: Why don’t we practice together?]
When a punching bag voluntarily offers itself, there’s no reason to refuse.
This guy seemed to have no memory of past worlds, starting as a blank slate each time. But Mo Yin, having experienced all the worlds, saw a pattern: the guy’s “fall” was happening faster each time.
The first time they met in this world, Mo Yin noticed Ye Chi looking at him strangely. It seemed that Ye Chi was a bit oblivious in this regard, probably thinking he was hiding it well.
The two added each other on their smurf accounts, and over the next few days, Mo Yin often practiced laning with Ye Chi.
Ye Chi was undeniably skilled, with very refined laning mechanics, making him an excellent practice partner. For Ye Chi, practicing laning details with a top player like Mo Yin was undoubtedly beneficial.
The system vehemently opposed Mo Yin practicing with Ye Chi, arguing that this would only make Ye Chi stronger, putting Mo Yin at a disadvantage.
Mo Yin: “I don’t need to weaken someone else to defeat them.”
The system felt it was being subtly criticized. After two seconds of silence, Mo Yin came to a conclusion.
The system’s grand claims about sensing world lines and perceptions were probably just league propaganda.
The system hadn’t realized it had leaked information again due to just two seconds of silence and quickly changed its approach. “Coordinator, you wouldn’t be developing feelings for the protagonist, would you?”
“So what if I am? And what if I’m not?” Mo Yin replied. “Does it affect your work?”
The system answered without hesitation, “Of course not!”
Good, then that’s settled.
The system, realizing it might have revealed something it shouldn’t, decided to stay silent and continued playing with its code ball, repeating to itself—I’m mute, I’m mute…
The match ended, and the victorious REAL members suggested going out for a late-night snack, considering their home was a hotpot restaurant.
Ye Chi: “You guys go ahead. I’m heading back.”
“Why?”
“Come on, Captain, join us. Sun Shao just called, they have big crabs.”
“Yeah, come along, no splitting up. We’ll report you.”
The teammates crowded around him, but Ye Chi dodged. “I have something to do,” he said, shaking his phone. “My ride’s here. See you.” With the agility of a former internet café bouncer, Ye Chi escaped their grasp.
Chen Dong scratched his nose. “Don’t you think the captain has been acting strange lately?”
Sun Yuanyang: “Definitely.”
They all looked at their top laner, Lian Cheng, who said slowly, “If my girlfriend wasn’t in a different time zone, I’d want to go back and video chat with her too.”
“Should we sneak back to the base and see if the captain is secretly chatting with a girl?”
“My brother said the crabs are twelve pounds.”
“…Forget it, crabs are more important.”
Ye Chi took a taxi back to the base, which was dark. He turned on the lights, placed his backpack on the ground, and saw his computer still on with the game open. He logged into his smurf account.
M123 was in-game.
——[Q123: I’m here]
——[M123: Two minutes]
Mo Yin had just finished a game when he received Ye Chi’s invitation. He entered Ye Chi’s room, and Ye Chi sent a smiling emoji in the chat box.
Idiot.
Mo Yin’s lips curved slightly. He pondered about this person, the various identities he had encountered—Pei Qing, Pei Mingshu, He Xuan, Landes, Li Xiu, Ye Chi… Who was behind these different personas?
[Q123: Sorry to keep you waiting]
[M123: Didn’t wait long]
Ye Chi smiled, his breath still not steady from running either due to his quick sprint from the taxi or facing Mo Yin.
[Q123: Which champion are we practicing today?]
[M123: Ashe]
[Q123: Okay]
Mo Yin excelled with traditional mages, whether long-range or close-quarters, burst assassins or sustained damage dealers. He mastered almost every champion.
Over two years, the meta had shifted several times, and mid-lane dynamics oscillated between mages and assassins. This time, the update diversified mid-lane, allowing many top and AD champions to thrive. The league clearly intended to prevent Mo Yin from continuing his dominance.
Rather than building gods, slaying gods more effectively thrilled the audience.
Ye Chi chose a counter champion he had been practicing, Tryndamere, a top laner.
The current meta was chaotic, blurring the lines between the five roles. Winning required not only solid fundamentals but also innovative strategies.
Ye Chi took his role as a “sparring partner” seriously. He admired Mo Yin’s formidable in-game prowess. Apart from confessing, the best way to show admiration was by giving his all in each match.
They dueled for nearly two hours, both sides going all out without holding back.
[M123: Break]
[Q123: Sure]
Ye Chi hesitated briefly, maybe a second or two, then typed quickly.
[Q123: Let’s exchange WeChat for better communication during practice.]
Ye Chi waited anxiously, unsure if Mo Yin had stepped away from his computer.
Ye Chi picked up his phone and saw several videos in the team’s WeChat group, each showing giant crabs. He chuckled, but his nervousness didn’t ease. He glanced at the computer screen.
M123 was still online.
At this hour, Mo Yin was probably having a late-night snack.
Ye Chi didn’t leave his seat; he just scrolled through his phone, relaxing his fingers.
His teammates had finished their late-night meal and were on their way back. They “considerately” informed him that the crabs were gone but had packed him a box of fried rice.
Ye Chi smiled and typed a reply, thanking them.
Seeing that Ye Chi was “active” again, his teammates eagerly teased him in the group chat, asking what he was doing back at the base and why he didn’t join their group activity. Was something going on?
Something going on?
Ye Chi smiled bitterly, feeling a surge of emotion in his chest. Was this really something going on? It felt more like unrequited love that he was trying to digest on his own.
Honestly, if Mo Yin knew that his admiration was not just professional respect or idol worship but had crossed into personal affection… Ye Chi couldn’t imagine how Mo Yin would react.
Idiot?
Pervert?
Get lost?
He didn’t know. It could be all three, or something worse. Compared to these negative responses, no response at all was the most terrifying.
Thinking back, ever since he entered this scene and interacted with Mo Yin—from their first random match to training games—Mo Yin had never truly ignored him.
Even in regular season matches, when the league stirred up drama, Mo Yin directly answered questions about him in post-game interviews.
The more Ye Chi thought about it, the more he felt that Mo Yin treated him somewhat differently compared to others.
His mind oscillated between elation and despair as he considered the possibility. Perhaps Mo Yin just saw him as a worthy challenger in the esports arena… all the special treatment was probably for his skills, not for who he was as a person.
Ye Chi felt a headache coming on from his own overthinking. He put away his phone, intending to close the game and clear his mind. As he looked up, a string of alphanumeric characters appeared in the once-clean chat box.
The members of REAL, chatting and laughing, entered the base. Just as they walked into the living room, they heard a loud “Nice——”
Before his teammates could gather around, Ye Chi quickly closed the chat box.
Only the game interface remained on the screen.
“Damn, Captain, you came back early just to practice heroes alone…”
Chen Dong almost knelt down in admiration, saying deeply, “I’m touched, you deserve a bowl of fried rice.”
Ye Chi coughed and casually closed the game, “I’m not hungry.” He walked past his teammates and climbed the stairs three steps at a time.
Sun Yuanyang looked up, “He’s like a kangaroo.”
“Wow, we really judged him too harshly. The captain is working so hard.”
“Yeah, his face was red, and he was sweating. Did he not turn on the air conditioning?”
“The captain is even saving money for our team. Sun Shao, you know what I mean, right?”
“I already packed some food for him…”
After his late-night snack, Mo Yin accepted Ye Chi’s friend request.
Ye Chi’s WeChat profile picture was a chibi character, probably fan art, and his username was his real name.
As soon as the friend request was accepted, Ye Chi sent Mo Yin a thumbs-up emoji.
Mo Yin was climbing the stairs while replying.
——[MY: Stop with the nonsense]
——[Ye Chi: Got it]
Ye Chi sent another emoji, a white dumpling-like figure kneeling and smiling, with the caption “obedient.”
It did look quite obedient.
Mo Yin put away his phone, his lips curling slightly.
So obedient, I’ll go a bit harder on him tomorrow.