I hold the esports script for the next ten years in my hands, yet I’m sitting in a senior-year high school classroom.
Chen Mo’s life ended in an internet cafe at the age of thirty-one, with the gray “Defeat” screen of Rift of the Era before his eyes. When he opened them again, he was back in his senior-year classroom in 2018. The countdown to the college entrance exam glared scarlet on the blackboard: 87 days.
In his previous life, he was a “theory expert” with mediocre reflexes, and he spent his life mired in regret. Now he has returned with complete memories of every esports event from the next ten years. The tactical details of every classic match, the hidden answers behind every patch, and the peak plays of every legendary player are all etched in his mind.
When the arrogant captain of the school esports club humiliates him as a “hopeless practice partner,” Chen Mo calmly tells him exactly when he’ll fall apart in his next match.
No one believes him.
Until he anonymously posts his first god-tier prediction on a forum: “April 20, 3 p.m. Game three of the Thunder Cup semifinals. At 17:34, coordinates (1270, 885), the blue-side jungler will score a double kill.”
The prediction plays out to the second during the live broadcast.
The entire esports scene is shaken.
The school team captain who once mocked him messages him late that night: “Genius, what should we pick and ban tomorrow?”
A top esports club drops a sky-high contract into his classroom: “Whoever you are, we need your brain.”
And the top student he’s secretly loved turns out to be the only one tipping his livestream. She sends him a private message: “Master, how should I counter-jungle next game?”
