Once his pulse had settled, Gu Chen turned to the internet for answers. His first priority was to figure out what, exactly, had changed about his world. It seemed that some kind of “world-line convergence” had occurred, merging the reality he knew with the world of Shenqi. The chilling part was that Gu Chen appeared to be the only one who noticed. Even the history textbooks had been rewritten. According to online encyclopedias, history was now divided into four distinct periods: Ancient, Medieval, Modern, and Contemporary. The Ancient era saw the gradual decline of Mew and the rise of the first prehistoric Shenqi. During the Medieval period, a meteor struck the Fengyuan Region region, awakening ancient titans that were only pacified by the intervention of Rayquaza. The Modern era began in 1925, when Professor Xilin of Yuhong University invented the Shenqi Qiu, an event that gave birth to the entire field of “Shenqi Studies.” The new timeline was dense with significant events. The Fanyin Temple was completed in 1700; the first Shenqi League Tournament was held in 1896. Trying to absorb it all felt like cramming for an exam he hadn’t known existed. The sheer volume of new information was exhausting. “So even in the Shenqi world, being a top student is a grind,” he muttered with a sigh, and clicked open the online version of High School Political Science, Volume 3. The emergence of Shenqi had led to the formation of a centralized global organization: the Alliance. In this parallel reality, Gu Chen lived in Tianhai City, part of the Donghuang Alliance. Other familiar regions existed as well, from the Falan Alliance to the Heyi Alliance, just as he remembered them. “It really is a fusion of the two worlds.” Gu Chen stared at the screen for a long moment before letting out a slow, heavy breath. A new thought, bright and thrilling, cut through the haze of confusion. “Does this mean… I have a chance to become a Shenqi Xunlianjia?” Becoming a Xunlianjia had been his childhood dream. But a few more searches quickly doused his excitement with a cold dose of reality. “The mortality rate is that high?!” In this world, becoming a Xunlianjia was no simple ambition. It was a grueling, high-stakes career. Mastery of several languages—Mandarin, Japanese, French, and English—was just the baseline. Beyond that, you needed money, a top-tier education, access to resources, and powerful connections. With its brutal requirements and astonishingly high mortality rate, being a Xunlianjia was officially classified as a “high-risk occupation.” Shenqi battles weren't just a sport; they were considered an “extreme sport.” Compared to any other profession, the immense risks and strict prerequisites made certified Trainers exceedingly rare. Of course, that didn’t stop Shenqi Balls from being popular with the public. Many ordinary people kept Shenqi as companions. There was certainly no shortage of enthusiasts. Gu Chen’s scrolling finger froze mid-swipe. A new idea, far more practical, dawned on him. “Why would I even bother becoming a Xunlianjia? Isn’t being a content creator a thousand times easier?” With real Shenqi in the world, the cost of producing special effects for movies and games had plummeted, but so had the quality. He looked up Han Zhu Man, a blockbuster starring Han Zhu, the Xuehua City Gym Leader, and produced by the famed Shenqi Pictures. The plot was a paint-by-numbers hero’s journey, yet it had somehow landed in the Top 250 on Douban. Gu Chen couldn’t see any reason why his own content, with his unique knowledge, wouldn’t become wildly popular. The gaming landscape was even more promising. Thanks to this world’s unique history, none of the smash-hit titles from his previous life existed. The hottest game on the market was Shenqi: Battle, a hyper-realistic simulator developed by the Dewen Corporation in Fengyuan Region. It was the very game Gu Chen streamed every day. The game used virtual imaging technology to perfectly replicate real Shenqi battles and had a massive audience. Some Xunlianjia academies even used it to hone their students’ tactical acumen. Even legendary figures like the “Zhandou Chuanqi” Ye Cheng were known to be avid fans. But because the barrier to entry for real-world battling was so high, many of the advanced strategies and team compositions from his previous life’s meta had never been discovered here. That was how Gu Chen, with a simple “Substitute-Protect-Toxic” strategy, had managed to rack up millions of views. “Looks like a few more videos could push me into the top tier of creators,” he mused. With his wealth of battle knowledge, producing more viral hits would be a breeze. But first, he needed to get a better feel for how a platform like Lingdong Net operated in this new reality. Gu Chen took a bite of roast duck wrapped with green onions and continued to browse the site. He found that Lingdong Net, YouTube, Twitch, and Niconico were all popular, and surprisingly, they shared many of the same top creators. For example, one of YouTube’s biggest stars was also a sensation on Lingdong Net—Tao Jing, the Water-type Gym Leader from the Yingji Alliance, nicknamed the “Black Pearl.” Her video was a stunning piece of cinematography: long, toned legs, healthy tan skin, and a breathtaking leap from the sea on the back of a Milotic, shimmering water droplets catching the light. The artistic beauty of the shot left Gu Chen momentarily stunned. “She’s… actually Tao Jing!” he breathed. “Then again, if Ye Cheng is around, it makes sense the Gym Leaders would be too.” The swimsuit video was trending at the top of Lingdong Net’s fashion section, and the uploader was Tao Jing herself. The comment section was a torrent of adoration. “Tao Jing did a photoshoot for LV? My youth is restored!” “Tao Jing, my angel, I love you!” “Is that love? That’s lust, you shameless perv!” Curiosity piqued, Gu Chen clicked over to the dance section. He expected to find the usual fare, but was instead greeted by the sight of a man. It was Long Che, the popular Instagram influencer and Dragon-type Gym Leader from Yingji. With his well-proportioned frame and a mischievous glint in his eye, Long Che sported an orange headband, flashing a bright smile that showed off gleaming white teeth. He might not have been as handsome as Gu Chen, in Gu Chen’s own opinion, but his slick dance moves combined with his status as a Dragon-type Gym Leader had earned him a massive following. Over in the film and TV category, the featured thumbnail was a trailer for a new movie starring the Pictures A-lister Han Ying… “It seems being a content creator really is the way to go,” Gu Chen murmured to himself. “I’ll stream again tonight, lay low, and just observe for now before making any big moves.” A rough plan for his future was already taking shape in his mind. Becoming a Xunlianjia was out of the question. Not in this lifetime. The real path to making a living was right in front of him: making videos. Still, while he had no intention of becoming a professional Xunlianjia, the idea of keeping a few Shenqi as pets was undeniably appealing. “What kind of Shenqi would be good to have around?” he wondered. “Since I won’t be battling, cuteness is the top priority! Imagine getting to cuddle an Eevee and a Shentan every day. What could be better?” A standard Shenqi Qiu cost around 500 yuan. He checked his bank account. After factoring in the bonuses from his recent million-view videos, he had a comfortable 20,000 yuan. He decided he would visit the dedicated Shenqi store in Tianhai tomorrow to buy a few. That night, Gu Chen went live as usual. Fueled by the hype from his recent videos, his viewer count skyrocketed past two hundred thousand the moment his stream began.

Chapter 2: Another History Was Written