Chapter 14: Live Stream

Reality world, 8:00 PM. The new anime recommendation page on Station 13—the largest anime website in the real world.

Every season, Station 13 rolls out a fresh batch of original anime. Though the anime here bear little resemblance to the ones from Tian Dao’s past life—no "Death, Fire, Sea" phenomenon-level laborer manga ever emerged here—this world still birthed its fair share of excellent series, drawing in a massive fanbase.

And today, on the much-anticipated release day for new Station 13 anime, fans naturally opened the site, eager to see what fresh gems the platform had brought this season.

As they loaded the page, one title immediately dominated the homepage: Stellar Prequel: Embers.

To occupy such a prominent position on Station 13’s main page was no small feat. Naturally, it caught the attention of countless fans, prompting many to click on it out of curiosity—though none had ever heard of this series before.

The opening scene unfolded with a solo moment for the protagonist, Chen Kong.

On screen, Chen Kong huddled in a cramped dorm room, silently counting his last few Star Coins.

When he finally reached the cafeteria and managed to get in line for the cheapest nutrient meal, a golden-haired student snatched it right from his hands.

Yet instead of fighting back, Chen Kong lowered his head and muttered, “S-sorry…”

The moment played out on screen, and the chat exploded.

“Wait… what kind of protagonist is this?!”

“Not even kidding—this is a ‘wimp starter’ arc? Verified: another dimensionally bad anime.”

“Check the description—it’s supposed to be a classic shonen action series, but this opening is so depressing! I can’t even relate to this guy.”

“Boring. Leaving.”

“Wasted production value. All we get is a pile of cringe. It’s 2025—no one watches weak protagonists anymore!”

“Besides the solid animation, everything else—plot, character design—is garbage. How is this guy supposed to be compelling?”

“Does the production team even understand ‘growth arc’ characters?”

Thousands of messages flooded the chat, all mocking Chen Kong’s passivity and cowardice.

In truth, it wasn’t uncommon for a protagonist to get bullied in the first episode of a real-world anime.

But the problem was this: the first episode was packed with Chen Kong’s internal monologues.

And in those thoughts, he accepted the ridicule, the bullying—without resistance, without defiance.

It was infuriating.

Because most anime viewers were young.

And young people? They were fiery.

They could tolerate a weak protagonist—but not one who admitted he was weak in his own mind.

Still, not everyone agreed.

“If you don’t like it, just close the tab. Don’t ruin it for others.”

“It’s just episode one! Maybe he’ll power up later and go on a full-scale revenge arc.”

“CPDD!”

As the first episode neared its midpoint, viewers slowly began to grasp the world-building of Stellar Prequel: Embers.

“Huh… so it’s a world with superpowers? Then the fact that Chen Kong hasn’t awakened his Stellar Core yet makes sense. But I can smell conspiracy. His Core has to be something special.”

“Worldbuilding is solid, animation quality is top-tier. But this protagonist’s personality? Still a mess. I’ve never seen a main character get his breakfast stolen and just… say sorry.”

“Face it—this guy’s a prodigy, you’re not. You’d be dead if you dared talk back. His reaction makes sense.”

“Sensible? Please. I’m here to relax, not suffer through realism. I want fun, not logic.”

“Average looks, cowardly personality—where’s the appeal?”

Debates raged across the chat until Chen Kong finally left the cafeteria and arrived at the training ground for the Final Evaluation phase.

As the weakest candidate, he immediately found an empty corner and sat down.

The Stellar Prodigies scattered across the field paid him no mind.

To them, Chen Kong was just background noise—irrelevant, invisible.

He’d long grown used to it.

Being ignored was better than being bullied, after all.

Then, after sitting for a while, Chen Kong suddenly looked up—toward the entrance.

He stood, then walked forward.

“T-Tian Dao… Kalolin.”

“Hey, Kōng~”

The silver-haired youth pushed his sunglasses forward as he stepped in, the cold gleam of his lenses reflecting the light, yet failing to hide the piercing depth of his sapphire eyes.

Behind him, the cat-eared girl flickered with a ripple of data across her emerald irises.

For the first time, Tian Dao and Kalolin appeared on screen.

And instantly, the chat transformed.

“Whoa… is this face real?!”

“White hair + sunglasses + blue eyes = my new husband.”

“I’ll take the cat girl!”

“This Tian Dao character? He’s almost as good-looking as me.”

“Something’s off… 100% wrong. Why does his art style look way better than the protagonist’s?”

“Green-haired cold cat girl, white-haired sunglasses dude… honestly, if you cut out the main character, this show’s actually interesting.”

Unlike Chen Kong—plain-faced, timid, unremarkable—Tian Dao’s entrance was pure overkill.

His unique style, striking appearance, and effortless confidence radiated from the screen like a supernova.

Instantly, he captured every viewer’s attention.

And in the world of Stellar, this was reflected in real time.

【Your popularity +1】

【Your popularity +1】

【Your popularity +1】

Tian Dao stared at the ever-updating popularity counter.

A slow, smug grin spread across his lips—so wide, it was almost criminal.

Of course.

Beauty always ruled the world.

Just from this one wave of “face fans,” he’d already recouped the popularity points he’d borrowed to upgrade his looks.

But he hadn’t prepared for just this.

No—Tian Dao had spent the past two years meticulously crafting his first impression.

Every word, every gesture, every micro-expression had been rehearsed, refined, and optimized.

That was why he’d timed his entrance perfectly.

Just as he began to bask in the glow of his flawless opening, a single message floated past.

“Tian Dao-sama, I am your dog!!”

“Pfft—” Tian Dao, mid-sip, nearly choked on his drink.

After a moment, he wiped his lips, chuckling awkwardly.

“…Do we really need fans like that?”

Then, as the plot progressed and Tian Dao showed genuine concern for Chen Kong—asking if he’d eaten breakfast—something shifted.

A portion of the audience began to feel something.

Compared to the cold, cruel Stellar Prodigies who’d mocked Chen Kong earlier, Tian Dao’s kindness was nothing short of divine.

A man with perfect looks, unmatched charisma, and a heart of gold—this was the ideal character fans dreamed of.

“This is angelic behavior!”

“The others were monsters. Tian Dao is light.”

“Director—please, for the love of god, replace the protagonist with Tian Dao!”

The chat exploded in praise.

Tian Dao smiled.

It was a success.

His debut had landed perfectly.

PS: Daily requests for reads and monthly votes—please support!

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end