Mastering the Sword Manual, sweeping across the globe

"Why did even Reuters get an invitation?"

"Isn't this the most reasonable approach?"

"What kind of bullshit scenic area advertising is this?!"

"What Da Yang wants is global buzz!"

"quedexia is up to her old tricks again!"

"With so many people suffering around the world, don't you envy them?!"

"It's perfectly fine to be envious!"

"Even a 7-year-old can open their mouth! Is the organ under your nose only for eating?"

"All the suffering people in the world, hurry and beg Quedexia for help!"

"Please help! Get this menace out of Da Yang as soon as possible!"

104 Grassroots Media

A small number of well-staffed media outlets left behind only a handful of staff to conduct in-depth interviews in Qianyuan County.

The vast majority of reporters flew to Y City the following day.

—Are you kidding me? With such a great opportunity, we'd fly even if a biohazard was breaking out at our destination!

The plane landed at 6 a.m.

Upon exiting the airport, Charlie Wilson was immediately greeted by four guides, four translators, and four cars!

The budgets for this interview were frighteningly high from all the TV stations involved!

The team regrouped, and the convoy headed in a grand procession towards the logistics park in the western part of the city.

About one kilometer from the legendary station, the group was stopped, and the vehicles were guided by traffic police to the nearest parking lot. The people and equipment were directed to a location that would not obstruct filming or the passage of pedestrians and vehicles.

According to the clues provided by the funding, Quedexia has started delivering meals around 7-8 am these past two days, which is still plenty of time.

As originally planned, the BBC's two cameras were positioned with one pointed at the sky, according to the location provided by the funding, and the other began live streaming.

--------

[BBC Live Broadcast]

"Dear viewers, we have arrived in City Y, Province X. We are currently only about two blocks away from Quedexia's workplace."

Charlie Wilson spoke a few beats faster than usual.

In the shot, behind Charlie, the city street scene of the early morning in the east is presented. The streetlights have just been turned off, the sky is tinged with the blue of duck egg, and there is white steam coming from the steamers of breakfast stalls in the air.

"As you can see, there are many locals on the street, as well as many tourists who, like us, care about Quedexia."

The camera pans across the street.

The sidewalk was indeed bustling—at least two or three times more than the normal pedestrian flow at this time.

Someone was carrying a freshly bought bottle of soy milk and standing by the roadside, looking up at the sky.

Someone was holding up their phone, the camera pointed at the sky, and the screen was lit up with a live stream.

Some people simply set up a small stool, sat under the roadside trees, and ate steamed buns while scrolling through their phones.

More people gathered in twos and threes, whispering to each other, their eyes occasionally sweeping across a certain direction in the sky.

That expectant posture—craning its neck, standing on tiptoe, eyes shining—is so easy to recognize.

"Hi, friend," Charlie said quickly toward a young man standing by the roadside with his hands in his pockets, looking into the distance. "Are you looking for High-Speed ​​Rail Superman?"

The young man turned around. He was about twenty-five or twenty-six years old, wearing sunglasses, a camera around his neck, a backpack, and brand-new sneakers—he exuded an aura of "I am a tourist."

"Yes."

"Could you reveal the purpose of your visit to the High-Speed ​​Rail Superman?"

“I want to take a picture with him.” The young man grinned, revealing a set of white teeth. “I flew from Guangcheng and arrived yesterday. I’ve been waiting here for two days.”

“Good luck.” Charlie shrugged and spread his hands at the camera. “Dear viewers, as far as we know, this is not an isolated case. Since Quedexia’s identity was exposed, the number of tourists in Y City has increased by at least 30%—a considerable portion of whom are fans who come specifically to try their luck.”

He took out his phone, swiped a few times, and brought the screen up to the camera.

"As you can see, the delivery platform that Qudexia works for is overwhelmed with orders—this is the current situation this week, especially during Qudexia's usual breakfast hours. Clicking on any restaurant shows 'busy' or 'orders suspended' for delivery. Residents of Y City who want to order breakfast have to be quick."

As they were talking, a food delivery driver in an orange-yellow uniform slowed down in the camera's view, stopped at the roadside, and waited for the green light.

Two lunch boxes were piled on the electric scooter's footrest, and the insulated box on the back seat was bulging, clearly indicating that it was fully loaded.

Charlie's eyes lit up, and he quickly walked over.

"Sir, could I have a few minutes of your time?"

Off-camera, an assistant held up two photos of the leader and shook them vigorously.

The young man glanced down at his phone screen.

There was still plenty of time. The young man looked up, glanced at Charlie, then at the camera, and asked with a smile, "How many minutes?"

Charlie quickly assured him, "Please rest assured, as you know, we don't have the guts to let the citizens of Y City go hungry."

The young man drove his electric scooter up the steps, stopped it, took off his helmet, revealing a face that looked to be in his late twenties. It was tanned a bit, but he had a sunny smile.

“Three days ago, those vampires on Wall Street made it known to the global audience that there are currently three main platforms in Da Yang’s food delivery market.” Charlie gave a brief introduction to the camera first, then turned to the deliveryman, “So, how does it feel to be a competitor of Super Delivery?”

"It's alright," the delivery guy grinned. "Ming's only done a few orders."

“Yes.” Charlie turned to the camera again. “According to the BBC’s investigation, Qudexia has almost unlimited energy and stamina. He can rush up the most complicated stairwells in one second and fly at a speed of 1200 kilometers per hour. However, before his identity was exposed, Qudexia always took very few orders a day, about 40 to 60 orders—only half of most delivery riders, to avoid affecting the algorithms and data of riders in the area. A respectable gentleman.”

“But…” Charlie then turned back to the young man, “In any case, the whole world knows about him now. Your business in this city must have inevitably been affected, right?”

"Of course! Anyone in Y City would love to see Ming-ge! The Ugly Group has absolutely no orders!"

Charlie paused for a moment: "You seem to be having a good laugh?"

"I'll go run the yellow line this afternoon," the delivery guy waved his hand dismissively. "It's just a matter of changing clothes. Besides, this is an unavoidable resignation, and the delivery team gave each of the riders in Y City a 2000 yuan compensation."

"A wise decision, lucky guy." Charlie gave the young man a thumbs up.

Behind him, in a concealed position, the assistant handed the leader to the young man.

The young man understood, smiled and took it, waved at the camera, said "Have a pleasant interview," then got on his electric scooter and disappeared around the corner.

Charlie continued walking.

The streets are getting more and more crowded.

There were photography teams carrying professional equipment, internet celebrities live streaming with their phones, groups of young people whispering to each other, and elderly people standing by the roadside with their shopping baskets, lost in thought.

Charlie paused for a moment as he walked.

On the roadside, a middle-aged man wearing a short-sleeved shirt and slippers leaned against a sycamore tree, holding an unlit cigarette in his hand, leisurely watching the crowds coming and going.

No backpack, no camera, no anxious waiting expression—just a "nothing much to do today, just out for a stroll" look.

Charlie's eyes lit up, and he quickly walked over.

“Sir,” he said with a standard journalist’s smile, “you don’t seem to be busy with anything. Perhaps we could have a chat with you?”

The middle-aged man turned his head, glanced at him, and then looked at the camera and assistant behind him.

"What are you talking about?"

Charlie quickly handed over the microphone.

Are you a local?

"Yes, that's right." The middle-aged man nodded, putting the cigarette back in his mouth. "I'm from Y City, born and raised here."

Charlie's face lit up with just the right amount of surprise: "Wow, we've found a local."

He pushed the microphone forward and asked, "What are your thoughts on the High-Speed ​​Rail Superman?"

The middle-aged man was stunned for a moment.

Then he laughed.

The smile slowly spread from the corners of his mouth, all the way to the corners of his eyes, until his whole face lit up.

He took the unlit cigarette from his lips, held it in his hand, and said earnestly to the camera:

"I am honored, happy, and especially... very proud to have such a fellow townsman... This is a character that can only be nurtured by our land of Jingchu. Well done, Ming-ge!"

Charlie listened attentively, nodding occasionally.

However, after the middle-aged man finished speaking, Charlie took out a small booklet from his pocket, flipped through it, and quickly showed a puzzled expression.

“But,” Charlie said, “according to the BBC investigation, the accent of the High Speed ​​Superman doesn’t seem to belong to the area north of the Yangtze River.”

The middle-aged man's smile froze.

He stared at Charlie, his eyes slowly narrowing.

"What did you say?"

Charlie took a half step back and held up the booklet: "According to our investigation, judging from the accent, Quedexia's place of origin is most likely J City in H Province, which is a distance from Y City—"

Charlie didn't finish his sentence.

The middle-aged man's hand was already outstretched.

He grabbed Charlie's bow tie.

Charlie reacted quickly, pulling back to avoid the loosening of his bow tie.

However, the middle-aged man's voice had already exploded:

"Fuck your mother! How come Ming isn't from Y City?! How could Ming not be from Y City?! I've lived in Y City for forty years, can't I recognize the Y City dialect?! What the hell is your BBC?!"

That voice, that imposing manner, that overwhelming temper—it truly was characteristic of the land of Jingchu.

Everyone's eyes turned to them instantly.

The two young men who were closest immediately surrounded them.

"What the hell?"

"BBC? What's the BBC up to?"

"What? Ming isn't from Y City?"

More people are moving in this direction.

Someone took out their phone and started recording a video.

Someone raised a selfie stick and shoved the camera directly at them.

Someone shouted from the back of the crowd: "Who said Brother Ming isn't from Y City? Step forward, you bastard!"

Charlie's assistant was stunned. He instinctively pulled out a handful of confetti, but didn't know who to give it to first.

Charlie reacted very quickly.

He immediately raised his hands, his face beaming with smiles, and his voice rose an octave:

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Please don't be angry! I apologize! I apologize for my words just now! I'm very sorry!"

Charlie spoke as he backed away, nearly tripping over his own foot.

"This was a mistake, a dereliction of duty by my colleague... The whole world knows that the BBC has never been a particularly rigorous media outlet! Especially its investigative department!"

--------

Thanks to his agility, flexibility, and ample funds, Charlie avoided getting punched.

At 9:17 a.m., Charlie successfully captured the beautiful scene of the sky dancers delivering takeout high in the sky.

Over the next few hours, the BBC completed more than a dozen street interviews.

An elderly person described with a smile how snacks were delivered through a window; a tourist shared their reason for coming here, which was related to the plight of their relatives; and a parent expressed their hope for an improvement in the education and training industry—each story testifies to the special significance of food delivery workers in this city.

Charlie was disappointed that he wasn't chosen to be a delivery driver—even though the film crew and all the outsourced teams ordered a total of ten takeout meals.

This was expected by the BBC. Although Da Yang offered an interview opportunity, it was clearly impossible for him to provide a truly first-person perspective and a chance to interact with the delivery superhero.

At 5 p.m., the film crew finished work and checked into the hotel.

Two hours later, at 7 p.m., the entire film crew set out again.

Target: Y City Medical Insurance Bureau