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

Upon entering the main gate, the once empty space in the center of the lobby on the first floor, where a half-dead potted green ivy and an unused reception sofa used to sit, has now been transformed into a brand new wall.

The entire wall extends from the floor to the ceiling, using a dark gray metal base plate. Old Tang specifically chose this material because it is wear-resistant, easy to clean, and does not reflect light when filmed. When the camera lights shine on it, it will only produce a uniform gray tone, without the kind of blinding glare.

Two rows of neat magnetic tag slots were embedded in the wall, each slot being the standard size of a work badge. Lin Shu took a closer look and noticed that there were thin white labels attached to the edges of the slots, with the categories pre-printed on them—

"Contestant ID - Name - Current Score - Elimination Risk Level!"

There are a total of forty card slots, arranged in two rows. At first glance, the whole wall gives people the feeling of a serious list.

It's somewhat similar to the honor roll or grade ranking wall you've seen in schools, only bigger, heavier, and more imposing.

Right next to the right side of the wall is an LED scrolling screen. It's not powered on yet, so the screen is dark, but the wiring and interfaces behind it have already been installed.

According to Tang Bin, the training area's servers are directly connected via fiber optic cables, allowing training data and match rankings to be pushed to the screen in real time without requiring manual updates.

Even trainees who are not in a training state can feel the atmosphere at any time.

When designing this wall, Lin Shu actually discussed it with his team several times.

Some suggested displaying the points rankings directly on a large screen, which would be convenient, clear, allow for animation effects, and save the cost of building a wall.

However, Lin Shu ultimately decided to use a physical scoring board, with the players' nameplates being manually changed by staff every day.

The reason is simple: the scores on the virtual screen disappear after scrolling for a moment, and how long a person stayed on them, their ranking, who was in front of them and who was behind them—they've seen it and forgotten it.

But when your own name is made into a physical, metallic nameplate, stuck in that slot, and you can see it every time you pass by, whether your name is squeezed in front or hung at the back, the feeling is completely different.

The pressure of being able to reach out and touch your own nameplate, to move it from the "pending" zone to the "promotion" zone, and then to have it removed from the "promotion" zone and thrown back into the "elimination" slot—that tangible pressure is a hundred times more real than the numbers flashing on the screen.

If the main training base is designed with a more human touch in mind, then the youth training camp is all about hardship and suffering, with its core purpose being to discourage players from leaving.

"The training area is on the second floor, boss. I'll take you up there."

Tang Bin walked ahead, taking large strides, his leather shoes making a thumping sound on the newly laid non-slip floor tiles.

As he climbed the stairs, he counted on his fingers and reported to Lin Shu: "The first floor is now the reception, office, and public area, which is actually not much different from the structure of our main base, so you are familiar with it; the second floor is the training and battle area, the review classroom, the individual interview room, and the control room, all of which are independent and soundproof; the third floor is the players' dormitory and the leisure area, with all functional areas separated so that they will not cross over—we have installed hidden cameras, so there will be no cameramen moving around when the players are training, and the cameramen in the control room will not interfere with the players' training."

Lin Shu followed him upstairs. When he stepped onto the second step, he suddenly stopped and looked at the walls on both sides of the stairs.

The staircase was the original concrete structure, and during the renovation, it was only painted with a layer of white paint. The handrail was the simplest kind of black wrought iron railing, and the anti-slip strips were neatly applied, but it looked somewhat bland in the overall refined atmosphere of the site.

"Old Tang, the staircase could be decorated a bit more."

Tang Bin immediately stopped in his tracks, pulled a palm-sized notebook and a ballpoint pen from his pocket, and turned to a blank page: "What are your orders?"

Lin Shu placed his hand on the iron handrail, glanced up, and after thinking for a few seconds, said, "My idea is to put up some inspirational slogans on both sides of the stairs—in terms of style, we can refer to the kind in school teaching building corridors, the kind with a slogan on each corner of each step."

Tang Bin paused for a moment, looked up at Lin Shu, and his lips twitched almost imperceptibly.

School style?

Study hard and make progress every day!

A scene flashed through his mind: a group of teenagers who were still battling it out in ranked matches at two or three in the morning, excitedly dragging their suitcases to the new base, thinking they had finally escaped the classroom and the blackboard. But as soon as they went up the stairs, they were greeted by "A sword's sharpness comes from honing, and the fragrance of plum blossoms comes from bitter cold," "One point of sweat, one point of gain," "A one-point lead can eliminate a thousand people"...

That feeling was probably like escaping one wolf's den only to enter another; the internet-addicted teenager probably had his mentality completely shattered on the spot.

Tang Bin thought to himself: The boss probably wouldn't have such a prank idea... maybe... perhaps?

Fortunately, Lin Shu didn't let him overthink for too long, and immediately added, "What I meant was that the 'style of the inspirational slogans' could be referenced from schools, with their fonts, layouts, and placement—but for the content, we can definitely use those philosophical lines from League of Legends. The Chinese translation team is quite authoritative in this area; many of their lines are actually golden quotes about life."

He paused, then gave an example: "It's like the most representative quote from Sword Saint Yi: 'A true master always has the heart of an apprentice.'"

Tang Bin paused for a moment, then his eyes lit up. He quickly jotted down notes on the paper, muttering to himself, "A true master... always retains the heart of an apprentice..."

He looked up, his expression completely gone—the one that had just been conjuring up images of him pranking the contestants—replacing it with an expression of utter admiration: "Boss, you've got a brilliant idea!" He continued, "This is perfect for us—the contestants on this show are here to learn. Put this up on the stairwell corner, so they see it every time they go up or down, telling them that no matter how good they are in ranked matches outside, they have to start from scratch here. This core message is far more effective than shouting 'Strive hard' a hundred times."

Lin Shu nodded and continued walking upstairs, saying as he went, "We can also pick some lines from other heroes, those that relate to training, growth, and mindset. For example—'Don't let pride blind you,' could be posted at the entrance of the review room, meaning to tell the players to learn humility; and for example..."

Tang Bin walked behind, taking notes and reciting the imagery of the lines. He was already planning to have them printed by GG Company: "Okay, then I'll pick out ten or eight lines and design them into posters that match the style of our wall visual identity. I'll put a few on each of the left and right stairwell walls, so the contestants will pass by those lines every day when they go up and down the stairs—it'll look good in photos and create a good atmosphere."

As they talked, they reached the second-floor staircase. Lin Shu stopped and looked back at the undecorated staircase, already picturing what it would look like after the slogans were posted—white walls, black lettering, warm lighting shining on it, so that every contestant could see the sentences as they looked up or down. Not everyone would necessarily read them carefully, but there would definitely be someone who, one late night after training, would stop on a certain step and look at it for a couple of seconds when returning to the dormitory.

That sentence might become a guiding light for a lost teenager.