He fiercely criticized the Manchu scholar clique and the twelve emperors of the Qing Dynasty.

"I'll probably still go back to teaching," Zhao Shuyao said, looking at the camera with a relaxed and matter-of-fact tone. "After all, in this world, pouring out what's in my head to fill the gaps in other people's knowledge is what I like to do most and what I'm best at."

He paused for a moment, a glint in his eyes: "I must use the weighty historical materials I possess to influence more people, and I am absolutely confident that I can do it well."

"As long as we tear open the real archives and show them to everyone, I believe everyone can agree with the most basic historical logic, which can awaken more people from that long-term self-deprecation and help them regain the confidence that belongs to China."

On the other end of the screen, reporter Wang nodded repeatedly. The exchange that lasted for more than an hour had completely trapped him in the young man's logical loop.

"Teacher Zhao, I have absolutely no doubt about what you said." Reporter Wang's voice was filled with sincere admiration. "With your profound knowledge and your ability to simplify complex concepts, if you were to actually stand on the podium, you would definitely become an extremely popular and well-liked teacher."

"Moreover, just based on your outspokenness, you are bound to be a responsible preacher."

Reporter Wang picked up his pen, unconsciously tapping the edge of his notebook, and offered his assessment: "Since a university teaching position is out of the question, have you considered what grade level of students you would teach?"

"Given the depth of your expertise demonstrated in your lecture, you couldn't possibly be a middle school history teacher; you must be at least a history teacher at a top-tier high school, right?"

In Wang's understanding, a top-tier high school with a permanent position is a respectable, albeit less desirable, standard of living.

Upon hearing this speculation, Zhao Shuyao suddenly laughed, waved his hands repeatedly, and even shook his head slightly.

"Reporter Wang, you think too traditionally of me." Zhao Shuyao put down his water glass, folded his hands under his chin, and said, "I don't intend to do that kind of teaching in the traditional sense."

"In today's full-time classrooms, the podium is too narrow and the four walls are too thick. Even if I go to a top high school with fifty students in a class, and I teach for a lifetime, how many people can I influence at most?"

Reporter Wang's hand, holding the pen, hovered in mid-air as he quickly scanned the number of people in his mind: "Two or three thousand?"

"Yes, two or three thousand people." Zhao Shuyao leaned back in his chair and spread his hands. "But how many people in the outside world don't know about this? It's just a drop in the ocean. So I plan to create some content online from now on."

"Teaching online?" Reporter Wang was stunned.

In 2016, although mobile internet was already widespread, the concept of "internet celebrity teacher" was just beginning to emerge, and most people's understanding of the internet was still limited to entertainment and watching jokes.

"Yes, let's open a cyber private school online." Zhao Shuyao's lips curled up. "No need for blackboards or chalk. Anyone who wants to listen can click to watch anytime, but we haven't fully figured out the specific model yet."

"For example, whether to use text and images in a column, short videos, or live lectures, many details are still being explored. To be honest, I'm not quite sure if this unprecedented path will ultimately work."

These words were half true and half false. Of course, Zhao Shuyao knew the secret to traffic in the next few years, but at this juncture, maintaining a certain degree of uncertainty when facing interviews from traditional media was the only way to leave enough suspense to ferment.

When reporter Wang heard the words "hadn't thought it through," the surprise in his eyes quickly turned into understanding.

"Online teaching...this idea is indeed very forward-thinking and bold." Reporter Wang pushed up his glasses again, his tone shifting to a more adult-oriented concern. "However, at this stage, the ways to monetize online knowledge are still very unclear."

"If you put all your energy into it, monetization may be a big problem. After all, the first thing people need to solve in life is their own survival. Without a solid foundation, passion can easily be worn away."

Reporter Wang sighed: "I completely understand that you haven't decided on a specific path yet, after all, this is a huge gamble that concerns your livelihood."

Zhao Shuyao sensed the worldly concern in the other person's words, but he didn't talk about any grand ambitions to change the world.

"Cash out?" Zhao Shuyao chuckled, his tone as casual as if he were discussing what to eat for dinner. "Reporter Wang, to be honest, I haven't really thought much about whether my personal living conditions are comfortable or not."

He pointed to the faded gray hoodie he was wearing: "You can tell from my outfit that I have an incredibly low desire for material things. As long as I have a hot meal and a place to sleep, I'm fine. And as I told you from the beginning, my family is from a rural area in northern Jiangsu."

Zhao Shuyao leaned closer to the camera, his eyes revealing an extreme nonchalance of someone who had seen it all: "Even if I really fail on the internet and can't teach anymore, I can just pack up and go back home to farm."

"I still have more than three acres of real land in my hometown. I have a lot of strength, and farming a few acres is more than enough to support myself. With land, I won't starve, so I don't worry about survival at all."

The phrase "go home to farm" was like a heavy hammer, easily shattering the worldly shackles that reporter Wang used to measure him.

Looking at the young man on the screen who spoke of "going home to farm" as casually as "going home for a vacation," reporter Wang just chuckled twice and shook his head. Clearly, he didn't take the statement seriously at all.

For a top graduate student in the history department of Northeastern University, a formidable figure who can crush academic giants in academic debates, to go and wield a hoe to farm is as absurd as saying that Jack Ma is going to sweep the streets.

Zhao Shuyao took in the other person's expression, but he had no intention of explaining or proving himself. He didn't need a reporter in a cubicle to understand what "unconditional support" meant.

Zhao Shuyao glanced at the digital clock on the corner of the table; nearly two hours had passed.

"Reporter Wang," Zhao Shuyao cut to the chase decisively, without any hesitation, "My time is almost up. Do you have any further questions? If not, may we conclude our interview here?"

This decisiveness, with the interviewee taking control of the pace, made reporter Wang subconsciously sit up straight.

"That's all, that's all!" Reporter Wang nodded repeatedly, quickly closing the notebook in front of him. "I've already gained an extremely wealth of information today, and I've truly benefited a lot. That concludes today's interview."

"However, when I am editing the manuscript later, if I encounter any historical terms or logical details that I am not sure about, I may have to trouble you, Professor Zhao, to take a look."

"Absolutely no problem." Zhao Shuyao raised his hand and gave an "OK" sign. "I don't have much else right now, but I have a lot of free time. Feel free to leave a message if you have any questions, and please feel free to bother me."

After a brief pause, Zhao Shuyao lightly tapped the mouse and made his request: "By the way, Reporter Wang, I recorded the entire video call when we were on the line earlier."

"I need to maintain a certain frequency of posts on my own social media accounts, and I'd like to edit this video and post it online. Do you see any copyright restrictions on your newspaper's website?"

Reporter Wang was taken aback. This was genuine exclusive material. But then he thought that this was originally a personal interview with Zhao Shuyao, and his remarks in it were extremely hardcore. Releasing it sooner would actually build momentum for the subsequent written reports by the Southern Media Group.

"No problem, the copyright is yours anyway." Reporter Wang agreed readily. "After all, you are the one expressing your views throughout, and how to use them is entirely up to you."

"Furthermore, once I have finished writing and formatting the written interview, I will definitely send it to you for a quick look before publishing it in the newspaper. We will only publish it after you confirm that there are no discrepancies."

"Okay, thank you very much, Reporter Wang. It's a pleasure to work with you."

"It's a pleasure working with you."

Zhao Shuyao let out a long breath and rubbed his slightly sore neck. The intensive output he had just experienced for more than an hour was not only a brainstorming session, but also a remote declaration of war against the academic clique.

Immediately move your mouse and open the screen recording folder on your desktop.

A nearly two-gigabyte video file lay there quietly. Double-click to open it; the picture quality was clear, and the sound was perfect.

The discussion I just gave about the "dispute over the legitimacy of the Five Dynasties and Ten Kingdoms", the "destruction of the 'Exploitation of the Works of Nature'", and the "decline in height in the late Qing Dynasty" would be quite astonishing if it were presented directly in the current public discourse.

But problems arose.

The two hours of raw footage were too long. In the early days of mobile internet in 2016, netizens had extremely limited patience. Even the most hardcore content would be deterred by a long, uninterrupted conversation lasting several tens of minutes due to its length.

It must be meticulously edited, compressing reporter Wang's perfunctory questions and extracting the most soul-searching golden sentences to create a three- to five-minute condensed version with a strong sense of conflict, and then adding subtitles.

This is the secret to traffic generation in this era.

Zhao Shuyao casually opened a basic video player that came with his computer and tried to find the cut function.

Two minutes later, he looked at the screen full of English code and the unresponsive timeline, and his brows gradually furrowed.

In his previous life, he spent his entire life in the archives flipping through dusty county chronicles and daily records, and all his writing work was limited to typing Word documents.

He knew the history of the Qing Dynasty inside and out and could recite the taxes of the Ming Dynasty by heart, but when it came to this damn multitrack editing software, timeline cutting and subtitle matching, he was a complete novice.

I clicked the mouse haphazardly on the screen a few times, and apart from pausing and fast-forwarding the video, I couldn't perform any other meaningful operation.

"Everyone has their own expertise," Zhao Shuyao said, staring at the screen and chuckling self-deprecatingly.

Instead of continuing to fight to the death, and without wasting time in this area where they were not good at it, in this war of public opinion, time was the battlefield. Every minute they spoke out every night gave the Yan family and their gang more room to manipulate their online army.

If you can't handle it yourself, then spend money to buy time.

Without hesitation, Zhao Shuyao shut down the player, pulled a USB drive from the drawer, and dragged the huge video file into it.

As the progress bar filled up, he stood up, grabbed the windbreaker jacket draped over the back of the chair and put it on, then pulled out the USB drive and shoved it into his pocket.

Pushing open the dormitory door, Zhao Shuyao strode downstairs and headed straight for the commercial back street outside the gate of Southeast University. There, internet cafes lined the street, and print shops were one after another. There were always tech-savvy people who knew how to use these software programs.

This video must be uploaded to the entire internet tonight.