Rebirth is fine, but I get eight hundred dollars right from the start?

Esports is an extremely fragile and nascent industry that cannot withstand much disruption.

You've just set a benchmark, and then you tear it down yourself. You're also facing a barrage of negative comments online, like "See? The idol you created is so fragile." "It's just a bubble of commercial packaging." "If you don't have the ability, you make up for it with marketing." You're really in deep trouble.

What's more troublesome is that public opinion isn't just directed at Lin Shu alone.

He'll become a target, but what will be shot through is the very rationale behind the whole thing—

Why is the government promoting it?

What is the basis for praising it?

Can the data convince the public?

Viewers outside the esports community won't look at your past, let alone know whether you truly won through countless matches.

All they know is that if they can't even win an All-Star Solo match, the value of the title "Challenger of the Rift" is questionable.

These questions, once they surface, will not only damage Lin Shu's personal image, but also expose and criticize the credibility of the award ceremony itself, the idol-making strategy of Fist and Penguin, and even the design logic of the entire "world's number one" system.

He worked in propaganda for nearly twenty years and has seen too many cases of people being praised too high only to fall hard.

Just seeing this schedule has already made me think through all the possible paths that public opinion might take.

For example, first there's a wave of mocking comments, then a few in-depth analysis posts dissecting operational mistakes, then some self-media outlets create headlines like "From Godhood to Fall in Just Ten Minutes," and finally, various marketing accounts jump in and devour all the hype.

The entire process will take no more than 48 hours, but the traces left behind may take months or even longer to heal.

Therefore, his worries were not unfounded at all.

However, the person in charge of event operations did not panic after hearing these words. Instead, he smiled and said, "Boss, we understand your concerns."

"Director Hong, we have discussed this risk internally many times."

The person in charge explained: "The first batch of plans was indeed as you said, with the solo competition first and the awards ceremony last. But we went through three versions, and finally rejected them all by a unanimous vote, settling on the current order... There are two main reasons."

"First of all, we have absolute confidence in Emperor's capabilities."

"You might not be familiar with his specific in-game stats, or rather, his dominance—over the past two weeks, his win rate on the Challenger tier has been 94%, and his laning win rate is 100%!"

"He has a 100% kill rate in head-to-head matchups since his debut, and no one in the world has been able to last more than eight minutes against him. This data is not fabricated by us; it is a full sample statistic from Riot Games' backend, covering high-elo ranked games in all regions around the world."

"His OGN All-Star mid lane opponent was ranked in the top ten in the Korean server and almost failed to make it into the top fifty in the Chinese server. He was even solo killed by a rookie in the same region... The two are not on the same level."

"Therefore, our internal risk assessment is less than 2%. A 98% win rate is considered 'extremely low risk' in the context of event risk management, which is acceptable."

He paused briefly, allowing the deputy leader time to process the numbers, before continuing.

"Secondly," the man said, his tone revealing a shrewdness characteristic of content operations professionals, "even if that two percent actually happens—that is, if Emperor really loses—we've already done the math."

The deputy leader paused, then frowned even more deeply: "You call it settling accounts after losing?"

"Director Hong, please let me finish." The person in charge smiled, took half a step forward, and lowered his voice, saying, "The awards ceremony generates its own buzz, and the solo competition generates its own buzz. By combining the two, the buzz from the awards ceremony will naturally spill over into the solo competition—the audience will watch the match with the curiosity of 'just how strong is the newly certified number one?' If they win, it will be well-deserved, creating a closed loop between the award and their skill, a double confirmation, doubling the buzz, and keeping them trending all day."

"We lost—to be frank, there was definitely public pressure from the loss, but that also generated buzz."

"Moreover, this kind of popularity has a longer lifespan. Because the story of 'the legendary figure being defeated by a successor' is a naturally viral template, it will generate a lot of discussion, derivative works, analysis, and even controversy. For the League of Legends All-Star event brand, controversy is always better than no buzz at all."

"As for the impact on Emperor personally," he glanced back at the ID on the big screen, a hint of emotion flashing in his eyes, "we've spoken with his team. His response was—'If I can't even win a solo tournament, then I don't deserve this No. 1 title. Losing is fine, it saves me from being humiliated by all the praise later.'"

"I think that's one of the reasons why the Emperor made those remarks in the interview today."

"He really... exceeded my preconceived notions about an esports player."

Even though I myself work in the esports industry.

The person in charge added this sentence in his mind.

"So from a marketing perspective," the person in charge shrugged, "winning is a win-win situation, losing generates buzz. It's like 'winning until you're numb, losing until you're not at a loss.' Of course—"

He changed the subject, his tone becoming more serious again, "The premise of this logic is that we have a 98% chance of winning. If the probability were reversed, we would never dare to arrange it this way. But the data speaks for itself; Lin Shu's strength isn't something we can just boast about, it's something he's proven in battle."

"The Emperor's strength is worth the risk."

After hearing this, the deputy leader remained silent for a full seven or eight seconds.

He glanced down at the now-cold tea in his thermos, his lips twitched, as if he wanted to say something but then swallowed it back.

Finally, he leaned back in his chair, clicked his tongue softly, and turned his gaze back to the big screen.

Countdown: 1 minute 07 seconds remaining!

"Alright," his tone softened slightly, "as long as you keep that in mind. But—"

He put down his cup and tapped the screen with his finger on Lin Shu's opponent's column: "If that 2% chance of something really happens, you'd better have already written the press release for your 'win big or lose small' contingency plan, so you don't end up in a panic."

"There's one more thing... This kind of thing must not be done again!"

"The need for a role model with an excellent image and a sense of responsibility in esports is far greater than that for a champion or a short-term traffic magnet."

"Been taught a lesson!"

The person in charge nodded and said nothing more. Both of them stared at the big screen, watching the countdown tick away to zero second by second. The host's voice came from the direction of the stage, followed by a sudden, loud shout from the audience that the competition had officially begun.