Chapter Six: The “Militarized Training” of the LPL
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With the official close of the winter transfer window, all the major powerhouse teams had finalized their rosters for the new season.
In fact, most team lineups had already been leaked before the transfer period ended, and the biggest catch of the year was none other than Rookie joining V5.
This naturally sparked some excitement among viewers for V5’s new roster.
“The jungler is Karsa. Karsa’s solid—deep experience, excels in the current meta, and should have great synergy with Rookie.”
“Mid lane, Rookie, no need to say more. Among the three saints and one emperor, his form has been excellent.”
“AD is Photic—the esports Xiao Yan? Heard he’s really strong but was always overshadowed by JKL and stuck on the bench.”
“Support is PPGOD. I know him—the God’s Whip!”
The group of esports enthusiasts eagerly discussed, flipping through V5’s latest Weibo updates.
…A few seconds later…
“Wait, who exactly is this top laner Mebius?”
The sudden appearance of an unfamiliar top laner left many LPL fans puzzled. The other four players, whether top-tier or at least somewhat known, were recognizable enough to raise hopes for a playoff berth.
But the top laner? Although he looked handsome, what about his skill? How capable was he?
Some proactive viewers immediately searched for detailed info on this new top laner. Among a sea of inconsequential stats, they found the most crucial detail:
A rookie top laner personally nurtured by Saint Gunner.
Damn!
The initially doubtful fans instantly changed their tune.
No wonder he had a veteran presence—turns out he was a disciple of an old master.
Though Saint Gunner’s “championship immunity” lasted less than a night and many trolls labeled him the weakest key top laner ever, one truth remained: anyone inheriting even half of Saint Gunner’s tenacity, managing to hold their own in lane and team fights, meant V5’s current roster was already quite solid.
Inside V5, the team hurriedly began their first phase of team synergy training.
Before the LPL Spring Split officially began, they had the Demacia Cup as a transitional tournament. Frankly, the Demacia Cup carried little prestige or prize money—purely to fill the long gap for viewers without live matches. Many established LPL players despised it for eating into their precious off-time.
But for a newly rebuilt team like V5, participating—and winning—was essential.
In simple terms, the Demacia Cup was a fuel station for rookies and a rehabilitation center for veterans.
It offered exposure for newcomers and a warm-up arena for players returning from break.
However...
Just a few days into team synergy, Luo Ji already felt he had underestimated the LPL.
Unlike the LDL, LPL coaches emphasized instilling professional habits and career mindset, meaning he had to memorize more knowledge and work hard to turn it into muscle memory.
It was an excruciating process.
Almost daily felt like military-style training—“Colonel Nuggets,” “Pistol Legs,” “Army Hotpot,” “Veteran Barbecue,” you name it. Late-night snacks never stopped.
Within a few days, his understanding of the game transformed dramatically—and was still evolving. He gritted his teeth and persevered.
As an adult hardened by life, he deeply understood: if you don’t endure hardship today, you’ll suffer tomorrow; if you endure hardship today, tomorrow might be even tougher.
Better to understand early and adapt quickly.
When the pain felt unbearable, a few bites of barbecue reignited his hope.
“Feeling a bit overwhelmed already?” Nofe teased, sitting beside the utterly drained Luo Ji, secretly impressed by his progress—not just his attitude but his learning capacity.
What defines a professional player?
Setting aside the glory, these so-called pros were mostly 18 to 23-year-olds at their most rebellious phase.
Some would admit defeat verbally but torment you behind your back.
Others, fueled by anger, would confront you head-on.
So how do coaches discipline players?
In one word: berate.
No pro has ever gone through their career without being scolded by a coach, especially rookies who suffer the harshest criticism.
Yet Luo Ji endured, even managing a sarcastic eye-roll:
“I’m just pondering one thing.”
“Oh?”
“Normally, pros come from kids who couldn’t keep up in school, so they turn to esports. But now, being a pro requires memorizing as much knowledge as studying. Doesn’t that make pro gaming pointless?”
Nofe fell into thoughtful silence.
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Seems like…
That’s exactly the case?
Over there, Xiao Yan and the others listening nodded in agreement.
All of them had been internet-addicted youths who pursued pro careers not only for money but because they were poor students. Yet who would have thought the hardships of learning would follow them into esports?
“But your learning speed is already pretty fast.”
PPGOD spoke up. Born in 2000, by the usual reckoning he was nearly 30 in esports terms and had seen plenty of rookies.
“Your fundamentals are solid. I heard you were personally trained by Saint Gunner?”
“‘Personally trained’ might be an exaggeration, but I did spend a lot of time with him,” Luo Ji reflected carefully, deciding not to claim too much credit until he had actual results.
“No wonder,” the players nodded.
As for Luo Ji’s humble claims, no one paid them much mind.
Joking aside, without some prior conditioning, most rookies would collapse under LPL’s intensity on their first try.
Meanwhile…
The “DreamMaker,” who bore a striking resemblance to Xu Xiu, had already been crushed by Nofe’s coaching machine and was sprawled on the sofa, questioning his life—or maybe just stuffed to bursting.
Time passed.
The team successfully relocated from Nanjiang to Magic City.
V5 participated in the Demacia Cup during early to mid-December.
Luo Ji had initially placed great importance on his debut match.
But reality dealt him a harsh slap.
The Demacia Cup wasn’t just LPL teams; it included streamer squads and LDL teams as well. Plus, the tournament wasn’t well-regarded by viewers. Even though V5 dismantled their opponents easily, few watched online.
Their absurdly high KDA was dismissed as “just stomping noobs.”
After all…
Before the New Year, relegation battles involving Emperor SMLZ and prodigy Wei Shen had repeatedly proven the unbridgeable gulf between LPL and LDL—not to mention streamer teams.
It wasn’t until the last group stage round that two LPL teams finally faced off—coincidentally, OMG, the very team that knocked them out last season at this stage.
The night before the match, Coach Nofe hurriedly gathered them for a meeting.
As for the materials on the table?
Perhaps due to time constraints, Luo Ji considered them practically unreadable.
Top laner Shanji, OMG’s star player, was known for his signature Rumble play, highly skilled, and OMG’s top lane was famously a breeding ground for talent.
Jungler AKI, at the height of his fame in 2024, was dubbed the Saiyan jungler, notorious for his wild hairstyle and successfully dating former commentator Xiao Lou, a wealthy lady.
Mid laner Steel had no particularly famous achievements.
Bot lane Able and COLD: the support was a fringe figure, but AD Able was promoted as Uzi’s successor at the time, one of the top three rising ADs, naturally skilled.
This OMG team relied on a classic dual-core strategy anchored by top and AD.
Right.
No need to consider their original form. In the LPL, where players hold more sway than coaches and weaker teams tend to play chaotically when behind, fame and skill are the ultimate currency for influence.
The most notable players on this roster were the top laner and AD.
Throughout the meeting, Luo Ji’s mind often drifted.
As mentioned, coaches in weaker teams favor star players; this also holds true in mid-tier and strong teams.
Coach Nofe focused almost entirely on the bot lane.
He wanted to ignite “Xiao Yan,” the rising star, to unleash his fury and crush Able.
But didn’t V5 get eliminated in the Demacia Cup because their bot lane was overwhelmed by Able’s duo, leading to a snowball defeat?
In other words, Xiao Yan hadn’t awakened yet.
Forget unleashing his full fury; he probably hadn’t even mastered advanced techniques. At best, he could barely blow fireballs.
But in the regular season, he would truly bloom, breaking through all the way to confront TES in the Yunlan Sect, eventually revealing his inner colors, forms, patterns, and roots to the entire online community, shattering his resolve.
Yet he wouldn’t say any of this.
After all, his name only referenced the “Three-Body” aliens; he wasn’t one himself. He couldn’t share future events, and no one would believe him.
Besides,
Resource allocation and team influence must be earned through performance. He needed more games and opportunities to prove himself gradually.
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“Also, I’m Meng.”
“Huh?”
“Call me Meng instead of Mebius—it sounds too strange. Just call me Meng from now on.”
“But that’s Gaia!”
Nofe waved dismissively, signaling it didn’t matter.
An ID was just a way to address a player. Beyond “Meng,” you could get used to calling someone “Wangcai” or “Goudan” if you liked.
Luo Ji twitched his mouth.
Back when he chose his ID in the LDL, it was random—he just picked whatever name flashed through his mind. Had he known this day would come, he would have chosen something cooler.
“Don’t mind the details,” Nofe continued. “Now that we’ve talked about the other four positions, what’s your take on the top lane?”
“I’ll completely follow the coach’s instructions,” Luo Ji replied instinctively.
“That’s fine…”
Nofe pondered a moment, then averted his gaze.
He wanted to support the top lane and the rookies, but the reality was that group stage matches were BO1s—win and advance, lose and vacation.
Naturally, he favored the star players.
Jungler XLB was hailed as unmatched during the S9 championship, and Xiao Yan had a similar aura now.
These two were his top priorities, leaving Luo Ji to exchange a helpless glance with “DreamMaker.”
The next day.
At Magic City Arena, as both teams finally arrived at the venue, the LPL Demacia Cup live broadcast cameras switched on.
[They’re here!]
[Is Song Sheng and Karsa not back yet? We’re doomed.]
[Came to watch Xiao Yan’s revenge match. By the way, which one is Xiao Yan?]
[V5’s lineup looks doomed.]
[Wait, what’s with the top lane’s ID? Mebius!?]
LPL viewers, starved of matches for a long time, were emotionally volatile, craving a visual spectacle from familiar stars—whether positive or negative.
But now?
Clicking in, they recognized some IDs, but these were the kind they’d usually leave the stream for during the regular season, leaving a bad taste.
Due to the ongoing calamity, the Demacia Cup had almost no live audience; players just competed in front of empty seats. So Luo Ji felt no nerves.
He simply gazed thoughtfully at the OMG players preparing to take the stage.
In his previous life, he was just a keyboard warrior furiously smashing keys. Now, it was different—he was going head-to-head with them offline, in person.
“Feeling a bit excited?”
Among the starting five, Luo Ji’s closest ally wasn’t the mid laner, nor the oldest support, nor the rising star XLB, but AD Xiao Yan. Born in 2002, just 19 this year, he felt the closest in age to Luo Ji.
Faced with this friendly gesture from a future star, Luo Ji gladly accepted.
“Excited? Of course. But looking at these empty seats, if I claimed I was super excited, that’d be a lie. It’s just a match against Shanji.”
“So confident?”
Xiao Yan looked surprised.
He felt some psychological pressure facing Able—after all, he was “Esports Xiao Yan,” not the real Xiao Yan, and needed to prove himself. Able had been a league veteran for years but hadn’t achieved much. Xiao Yan thought he had a slight edge.
If not, he’d just grind it out.
But Shanji?
That was a top laner with a legendary reputation!
“That’s right, confident.”
Luo Ji nodded seriously. “If I win, it’s the rookie upsetting Shanji. If I lose, it’s the rookie bravely challenging with a bright future ahead. As long as I don’t throw blatantly, however I play is justified.”
Xiao Yan: ...
Damn, how did he forget that!