Chapter 81: Hand It Over to Me, Brother

“No, no, it was just luck!” Lin Hao replied modestly.

“To be honest, your Yuan Ge is among the most impressive I’ve ever seen. Especially your accuracy with the Cross Slash—it never seems to miss at the crucial moment, does it?” Shang Jie went on. “Alright, I’ll send you the five hundred credits through WeChat.”

“Alright, sounds good.”

“Well then, I’ll hang up now!”

After ending the call with Shang Jie, Lin Hao returned to his livestream.

“Let’s continue with the Peak Tournament,” he announced. Suddenly, he noticed the chat was filled with comments accusing him of “hogging the prize.”

He understood immediately.

“I’m definitely not keeping the credits for myself. Let’s do a giveaway right here on stream. Just follow and send a message in the chat to participate!”

Five hundred credits were, in fact, a small amount compared to Lin Hao’s recent earnings. It was better to use them for a giveaway, which would also help boost his followers.

Recently, Lin Hao’s popularity had exploded, so he had started learning more about being a successful streamer. Previously, he’d thought of himself as a “dead fish” streamer—just going through the motions, since there weren’t many viewers or comments anyway. Now, with his growing popularity, he knew it was time to up his game.

Take the giveaway, for instance. On the surface, it was a benefit for the fans, but it came with a condition: you had to follow the channel and leave a comment. Some viewers just watched the stream without following or chatting at all, and that couldn’t continue. This giveaway would net him a wave of new followers and boost engagement in the chat.

...

That evening, after work, Lin Hao began tallying up the day’s gains.

He hadn’t spent much time on the Peak Tournament, and most of the streamers he’d run into were on his side. His Peak points had risen to 2,450, putting him in the top fifteen.

Today, the system had collected over forty thousand Anger Points—lower than before, since he’d spent some time dueling with Shang Jie. But regardless, it was time for the daily draw.

The system’s prize pool spun, streaks of blue light flashing by one after another. At last, halfway through, a purple glow appeared.

“Congratulations, Host, you have obtained a National Server Skill Point for Meng Tian!”

Meng Tian?

As a player who specialized in the side lane, Lin Hao was no stranger to this hero. Meng Tian was one of those champions who, in the right lineup, could achieve miraculous results. At the same time, his unique mechanics made him a hard counter for certain other heroes.

Take Zhu Bajie, for example: when Meng Tian activated his ultimate, Zhu Bajie could roll through Meng Tian’s squad and instantly restore all his health—earning Meng Tian the nickname “Power Bank” among Zhu Bajie players. Or Diao Chan: a skilled Diao Chan could dance circles around Meng Tian’s team during his ultimate, causing chain explosions and insane damage.

Lin Hao finished the rest of his draws, but didn’t win any more skill points.

“Not a bad haul today. At least something good dropped.” Lin Hao nodded in satisfaction.

With Meng Tian’s National Server Skill Point and a good grasp of his playstyle, Lin Hao was already brainstorming ways to use Meng Tian to maximize his Anger Point collection.

...

That night, Shang Jie, a pretty popular streamer, held his prize pool solo tournament, which drew a lot of attention.

Many content creators were already rubbing their hands in anticipation, sitting at their computers, ready to stay up late and craft articles based on Shang Jie’s solo match footage. The grand finale, in particular, caught their eyes.

“The much-talked-about Haoran actually had a solo match against Shang Jie, and both of them picked the same hero. Wait, Haoran’s Yuan Ge is using the default skin?” One editor scrolled through the video, watching the back-and-forth between Haoran and Shang Jie, and his eyes lit up.

“Haoran’s skills are really impressive! And he’s using the default skin—there’s a story right there.” Chuckling, he dug up Lin Hao’s stream recording. “If I combine this with the reactions from Haoran’s stream, I might be able to get this video out before dawn!”

At two in the morning, a video titled “Who Is the King of Yuan Ge? Haoran’s Default Skin Yuan Ge Destroys Shang Jie!” was released on Douyin.

It was the perfect time—many bored young people, having finished their day but not wanting to sleep, were scrolling through videos online.

The title quickly drew a lot of attention.

The editor had picked out three highlight kills between Lin Hao and Shang Jie, giving viewers a visual feast that left them curious.

“Who is this Haoran guy?”

“I think I’ve heard about him a lot lately.”

“Apparently, a bunch of streamers have run into him in the Peak Tournament, and he’s beaten them all.”

“Where does he stream? I want to see who this guy really is!”

...

So, the next day, when Lin Hao started his stream, the viewership was much higher than usual—within moments, it broke the million mark.

If this trend continued, Lin Hao’s peak concurrent viewership tonight might hit two million.

With such explosive growth, perhaps only Yaoyang from TigerTooth could compare with Lin Hao across the entire platform.

But Lin Hao paid no mind. He launched into his Peak Tournament matches.

“With my current Peak points, I’m definitely in the upper ranks now,” Lin Hao said. “It’s a shame I don’t have any National Titles yet. At this level, it’s easy to have my position snatched by players who do.”

For example, in his very first game of the stream, Lin Hao was first pick, but the third pick—also a Peak Summoner—immediately messaged, “I’m playing Side Lane.” And his side lane rank was sky-high: 104 stars!

“Haha, Hao doesn’t have a National Title—no reputation at all!”

“The streamer’s side lane position is being stolen! Does he even play any other roles?”

“Here because of your reputation—quick, play Yuan Ge and show us what a true King is!”

“Just steal the position from him—what’s 104 stars anyway?”

Lin Hao sighed.

That had been a recurring issue these days. He’d climbed the Peak ladder so quickly that he didn’t have any National Titles to his name, making it hard to secure his role.

After a moment’s thought, Lin Hao typed a number: “2450.”

That was his only bargaining chip.

In high-level matches, it wasn’t unusual to see players post their Peak points to fight for their preferred position. Of course, you could type three thousand if you wanted—whether anyone believed you was another matter.

“Really?” typed the third pick.

“Absolutely. Let me have it, brother—I’m on a winning streak and in great form,” Lin Hao replied.