National destiny: Global tower climbing skills have decreased by 10,000 times.

2:40 PM.

In the pinnacle area of ​​Station C, a live broadcast is in full swing.

The live stream title boldly proclaimed: "Viewer Battle: Chef vs. 'Genius Boy' Hei Xi"

Online users: 9.3

And it continues to climb.

The screen was split in two.

The main screen is Cai Chu's screen, and in the small window in the upper right corner, a player with the ID "Hei Xi ceal" is operating in sync—the two are playing a public match in 'one-on-one mode'.

The chef on the screen remained silent, his brows slightly furrowed, and the sound of the mouse clicking could be clearly heard in the live stream.

His expression was focused and serious, as if he were truly experiencing a closely contested duel.

The barrage of comments rolled by like a torrent:

"Here it comes! The God of Cookery vs. Hei Xi!"

"Is it finally time to decide who is the strongest observer in the Dragon Kingdom?"

"Wow! Am I late? The ultimate showdown for spectators!"

"I heard it was this Hei Xi who broke the Chef God's A4 record?"

"Is this for real? I think the Chef God is playing much faster than him this time."

"That record of Hei Xi, didn't the Chef God say it was a perfect hand? It's normal that he got lucky and won."

"That master chef even said it was cheating."

"But look at Hei Xi's speed, it's not much slower than the Chef God's, is it? This isn't the speed a novice should have."

"How could that be? If he were really a newbie, it would be a problem if he could even pass A3. You actually believe this is an account created by a newbie?"

"It can't be some other big shot, right? Which big shot in the industry doesn't the chef know?"

"Could there really be a child prodigy?"

……

The number of online users jumped and exceeded 100,000.

The profile pictures of fellow streamers, professional players, and even some industry bigwigs also appeared in the viewer list—

The commotion from this "duel" was even greater than the chef had anticipated.

But that's exactly what he wanted.

Meanwhile, Ye Fei leaned back in his chair, his fingers moving slowly and deliberately on the mouse.

The same game, the same seed, the same map was running on his screen.

Another screen on the phone holder was displaying the chef's cooking process in real time—this was how Ye Fei kept track of the chef's progress, and it was also a "script" the two had agreed upon beforehand.

When choosing a route, Ye Fei glanced at the chef's screen; the other person had selected a route with many question marks. A slight smile appeared on his lips, and he clicked the mouse on the same route.

In every battle, he deliberately controlled the pace.

If he falls too far behind, he speeds up a bit; if he overtakes the chef, he deliberately "pretends to think" and slows down a bit.

Although I am sometimes a few seconds faster than the chef, I can always keep the overall progress slower than him.

If he gets a really good hand, he'll deliberately skip taking it. But if he gets a mediocre hand, he'll pretend to hesitate for a moment before taking it.

At each decision point, he would pause for a few seconds to "think," glance at the progress of the kitchen, and then continue at a leisurely pace.

Midway through the second level, he surpassed Cai Chu's progress by a few seconds in one round—in a turn where he could have easily defeated Cai Chu, he deliberately chose to defend all his units, thus "pulling" back and forth for a full ten seconds, watching Cai Chu's progress catch up before continuing to advance.

The viewers in the live chat clearly didn't notice anything unusual; they were all discussing the chef's skills and speed.

"Not bad," Ye Fei thought to himself, evaluating his performance.

On the main screen of the live stream, the chef's movements remained fluid and skillful, intentionally displaying the demeanor of a "master," drawing all the attention of the chat.

In that small window, Hei Xi's specific operations were rarely observed closely; he was only glanced at during the "progress comparison" screen.

At 22 minutes and 54 seconds, the second-floor boss fell to the ground, and Cai Chu successfully reached the third floor, while Hei Xi was still "thinking" at the boss.

"Hurry, Chef! Hei Xi is still on the second floor!"

"That was a cool move, I could never learn that in my entire life."

"The master chef has it all in the bag this time!"

Finally, the third-floor boss disappeared into the flames, and the chef was the first to finish defeating it.

A settlement screen pops up on the screen:

"36 minutes 06 seconds"

—Successfully surpassed Hei Xi's previous record of "37 minutes and 14 seconds" and regained the top spot.

In the small window, Hei Xi's screen was still struggling on the third layer, finally freezing at 37 minutes and 41 seconds.

The live chat exploded instantly:

"The chef is awesome!!!"

"A true champion needs no words."

"The observer is the only true God; this title is truly well-deserved."

"Dare to challenge the God of Cookery? This is what happens!"

……

Looking at the overwhelming barrage of comments on the screen, the chef let out a long sigh.

The corners of his mouth turned up slightly, revealing both a sense of triumphant satisfaction and a touch of composure as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

He cleared his throat, a hint of relief in his voice:

"Brothers, the game is over."

Let me just say a few words.

The comments section quieted down a bit.

"As you've all seen, Hei Xi isn't cheating or using a substitute player."

He paused, as if organizing his thoughts.

"Although he's still a bit behind me, I have to admit, he's definitely a very talented young genius."

He paused for a few seconds at this point, and the live chat erupted in uproar.

"In the future, he will cooperate with me. We will work together to study new strategies for the spectator game and come up with something new for the spectator game in China."

The live chat exploded again:

"Holy crap? The God of Cookery has taken on another apprentice?"

"It's a collaboration; Hei Xi might come to the livestream room in the future."

"The chef is awesome! Hei Xi is awesome!"

"Anyway, at least there are two top-tier competitors on the spectator track now."

"Welcome, Brother Hei Xi! Please visit Chef God's livestream more often!"

The chef secretly breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the comments section.

The play has been successfully performed.

He opened his private messages and sent a message to Ye Fei:

"Big brother, you've worked hard today!"

The other party replied with a single word instantly:

"Um."

After ending the broadcast, Ye Fei closed the game interface, leaned back in his chair, and stretched.

Acting for two hours was even more tiring than real fighting.

He took out his phone and opened his bank app. His balance showed an additional transfer.

—A five-figure sum, a little more than he had expected.

"At least this person is quite trustworthy." Ye Fei tossed his phone onto the table, feeling that he had finally resolved one issue.

As for his distorted new identity as a "genius boy," he didn't feel anything about it.

Anyway, it's just a script. With a script comes character settings. As for the actual situation, it's enough that only he and the chef know.

However, among the gazes of those 100,000 people, there was one person who kept staring at that inconspicuous little window.

His profile picture was inconspicuous in the audience list—no verified badge, no fan badge, just an ordinary ID:

"Star Abyss".

His name is Xingyuan, real name Xu Yi. He is a former professional player from China who once led his team to the top five in the world. He has now retired and is quietly active on various online gaming platforms.

As soon as he entered the room, a few comments occasionally floated across the live stream chat, such as "Welcome, Brother Xingyuan" and "Brother Xingyuan is here too," but they quickly disappeared into the flood of messages and did not attract much attention.

From the first floor onwards, his gaze was fixed on that small window.

Every "hesitation" Hei Xi made, every "missed" card he played, and every "mediocre" path he took—in other people's eyes, it was a newcomer showing his timidity in front of a top streamer.

In his eyes, these "mistakes" were too precise. He clearly saw that in several places, he could have made better decisions.

However, his mouse always hesitated for a moment before precisely avoiding it.

In the average person's understanding, they would not even look at it and immediately select the "wrong" option.

And he always managed to stop at the most crucial moment.

This absolutely cannot be a coincidence!

This kind of understanding of the game should theoretically be unique to him in the entire Dragon Kingdom, and since retiring, he has never shown his understanding to the outside world.

Xingyuan leaned back in his chair and remained silent for a long time.

"Black Evening, I'll remember you!"