Chapter 118: Let the Progress Bar Hold On a Little Longer

“Recitation techniques”? What the hell was that?

Cheng Yu stared at the title in confusion. You could make a video out of this too?

As the creator in question, Cheng Yu naturally had a different focus from ordinary viewers. He had come to study and draw inspiration—or rather, to pay his respects and worship at the feet of a master.

Why did he put it that way?

The answer was obvious from the screenful of supportive comments. In less than an hour after the video had been uploaded, there were already more than a hundred thousand comments. These fans were utterly insane. If he could ever gather even half—no, even a tenth—of that kind of popularity, he would be satisfied. With more than ten million followers, even a tenth would still amount to over a million!

“Confessing my love to the Angel Master!”

“Can someone tell me the gossip about the Goddess Luo?”

“When it comes to update speed, you’re the only one I acknowledge on this platform!”

“I haven’t even watched it yet, but congratulations on discovering the site’s greatest treasure!”

“No need to say anything else. Ten million assists, let’s go!”

“Ten million assists, number one.”

“Ten million assists, number two.”

“Ten million assists, number 10,086.”

“...”

Ten million assists?

Cheng Yu’s mouth twitched. Was that really necessary? How long had it been? They were already talking about ten million assists?

He hurriedly turned to look at the video statistics. In just one hour, the video had already racked up a full 970,000 views!

Under normal circumstances, Cheng Yu would have been astonished. Instead, he felt relieved. From the comments, he had thought the number was 9.7 million and had nearly died of fright.

But it had not even reached a million views. Why were they already talking about ten million assists?

Confused, Cheng Yu immediately sent a comment.

“Shouldn’t you start with a million assists? Why jump straight to ten million?”

“It’ll pass ten million sooner or later anyway. A million assists would be far too unchallenging.”

After seeing the reply, Cheng Yu once again regretted his impulsive decision to post a comment. Wasn’t he just asking to be crushed?

He thought about it. It seemed that all his own new works started with a hundred thousand assists. Not long ago, when one of his videos had broken a million views and climbed to the top of the popularity charts, he had been rather pleased with himself. Yet the masters were counting from ten million onward.

Leaving Cheng Yu to stew in his gloom, most viewers had no such complicated thoughts. They had simply come to watch the video. This was their spiritual sustenance. Some fans even replayed Luo Chen’s chaotic remix videos every day from beginning to end; it had practically become a habit.

Once the video officially began, the barrage of comments gradually thinned. Compared with chatting idly with everyone else, watching the video was a little more important.

At the beginning, a beautiful hostess spoke slowly in Cantonese.

“Next is a solo Cantonese poetry recitation by Yifeng, a third-year middle-school student from Tuen Mun and Yuen Long. He will perform ‘Waiting for Grand Preceptor Ding in the Mountain Study of the Old Karma’ and ‘Song of the Southern Village.’”

When the opening scene appeared, the creators who had come to study and imitate were all puzzled by the use of Cantonese. If there were no subtitles below, some viewers would not have understood a word. And if they did not understand the meaning, how were they supposed to turn it into a chaotic remix?

The fans, however, had no such concerns. They eagerly awaited what came next. After all, anything produced by the Angel Master was bound to be excellent. What was there to doubt about a masterpiece?

In the video, the boy Yifeng pondered for a moment. He glanced to the side and pretended to admire the scenery as a stirring, heroic melody slowly began to swell.

Before the video properly got underway, the veterans trapped here and forced to replay the same song over and over hurriedly began warning those fans who had not yet fallen into the pit. If they did not leave now, it would be too late.

“Those who haven’t watched it yet, run! High energy ahead!”

“The boy Yifeng is gathering his strength...”

“Superhuman misheard lyrics incoming!”

“He’s only a child!”

“...”

The bewildered viewers had not yet figured out what any of this meant when, after pondering for a long while, Yifeng finally opened his mouth.

The moment he began, it was earth-shattering. Viewers wearing headphones nearly fell out of their chairs.

“Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh!”

“Beautiful girl, always caught in pouring rain, even when fate leaves you wandering; beautiful girl, so confident, even when fate twists and turns; beautiful girl, unafraid of thunder, wind, or rain, even when fate comes frightening you—there’s no joy in being human! Beautiful girl, who do you love? Don’t cry, my aching heart...”

At the first note, many viewers dropped to their knees. Watching the boy Yifeng’s exaggerated expression and those mischievous little glances as he sang an incomprehensible song in Cantonese was somehow irresistibly infectious.

Some viewers even tried to translate the melody by ear, writing down whatever they thought they heard. For a time, countless versions sprang up, and the barrage exploded.

“Oh-oh-oh!”

“What an expression on that boy!”

“Hahaha... I’m willing. With one cry, I’ll go wild with you. I’m willing—forever by your side!”

“The person above is filthy...”

“How could you treat a child like this? All I can say is... beautifully done!”

“Compared with us, isn’t the little angel who uploaded the video the truly filthy one?”

“No, no, look carefully. The little angel isn’t filthy at all!”

“Not filthy?”

The fans looked at the subtitles added by the little angel. They contained nothing more than the actual lyrics. The misheard versions had all been supplied by viewers in the barrage.

Strictly speaking, the innocent little angel had merely edited the video so that Yifeng’s recitation became a song. But that melody, that tone, that expression, and that Cantonese had clearly been arranged to make people think in the wrong direction.

The creators, still stunned, gradually came back to their senses. So chaotic remixes could be played like this? Why had none of them ever thought of it before?

“Brilliant! Absolutely brilliant! No wonder he’s a master!”

Many creators suddenly understood why the other man was a master while they were not. In the past, countless perfect pieces of source material had been placed right in front of them, yet they had failed to notice. That was the difference.

The creators who had once been faintly jealous, believing the other man’s success was entirely due to luck, all fell silent. If they still could not see the gap after this, then their problem was not a lack of technical skill—it was a lack of intelligence.

As for the creators in the remix-video section, they were already preparing to follow the trend and ride the wave to another burst of popularity. Why would they waste their time provoking a master in the comments?

The few-minute video passed in the blink of an eye. Many viewers had not yet had their fill when the progress bar began to falter. As the music faded, the bar was already nearing the end.

Yet whether they were viewers, fans, or fellow creators, none of them immediately left or restarted the video. The Angel Master’s videos had reminded them more than once that the real feature often appeared only at the very end.

As for the progress bar?

It could hold on a little longer!

Thanks to book friend Autumn Wind for the generous reward of 500 starting coins. Flowers all around! The video in this chapter is number 902007.