32: Chapter 32 Undercurrents and Acceleration

The morning light outside the window filtered through the blinds, cutting stripes of light and shadow across Alex Su's workbench.

He had just finished a video call with the Nordic musician Eric—not the Eric from Reality Maze, but the creator of "Echoes in Static." The other party excitedly showed him the backend data; the view count had exceeded 500,000 within 72 hours, which was nothing short of a miracle for an independent musician.

"Alex, you made my music 'seen'." The Nordic man on the other end of the screen had slightly red-rimmed eyes. "Not just heard, but truly 'seen'. This feeling... thank you."

Before the call ended, the other party repeatedly invited him to prioritize cooperation on any future music visualization projects, even offering to customize tracks for him. His first connection in the music circle was established in the most natural way—not charity, not a transaction, but mutual achievement between talents.

Alex leaned back in his chair and summoned the system interface.

Over the past week, the data curve for "Internet Archaeology and Reconstruction: Charlie 2025" had risen steadily. There were no explosive peaks, but the recommendation algorithm seemed particularly fond of this kind of "long-tail quality content." Subscriptions were growing steadily by several hundred a day, and more importantly, serious discussions from industry insiders were beginning to appear in the comments section.

"The color transition in this transition scene has the flavor of Paul Thomas Anderson's early works."

"The rhythm of the camerawork reminds me of those creators from the early days of YouTube who truly understood film."

"This isn't a simple remake; it's a re-creation after deconstruction."

These comments were more valuable than simple "cool" or "haha" remarks. They were building a more solid industry identity for him: not a flash-in-the-pan influencer, but a content creator with a solid foundation in film language.

Popularity was flowing in continuously. Although it wasn't as surging as the extreme sports videos, it was longer-lasting and more solid. He exchanged for [Neural Reaction Enhancement (Primary)].

The moment the exchange was completed, the world seemed to have its frame rate turned up.

The flight trajectory of birds passing outside the window became clearer, the sound of the computer fan turning was broken down into finer layers in his ears, and he could even vaguely distinguish the friction differences in different parts of the bearings. This was not a superhuman sense, but a kind of precise optimization—like performing a deep system tune-up on a high-performance computer, resulting in faster response and more efficient processing.

He knew this ability would be of maximum value in two areas: the upcoming self-defense training and the increasingly complex video shooting and post-production. A 10% increase in reaction speed meant more precise rhythm control during editing, safer landing judgments during Parkour, and in the face of sudden danger... it meant one more chance at survival.

---

On Tuesday afternoon, Alex walked into a Krav Maga gym in Santa Monica as scheduled.

The gym was filled with the smell of sweat, rubber, and disinfectant. Posters of the Israel Defense Forces were pasted on the walls, and several students were practicing basic escape moves under the guidance of a coach. There were no martial arts uniforms, only sportswear and protective gear; everything looked practical and even a bit rough.

"Alex?" A middle-aged man with a flat top and a thick neck walked over and reached out to shake his hand. He was the head coach here, Coach Mick, a former military contractor employee with palms as rough as sandpaper.

"It's me. Coach Mick, thank you for your time."

"Saw your videos." Coach Mick got straight to the point, leading him toward the locker room. "Your Parkour is pretty good, good body coordination. But when you run into trouble on the street, it's best if Parkour helps you run away. When you can't run, you need something else."

The course started from the very basics: stance, movement, and line-of-sight management. The first thing Coach Mick taught wasn't how to attack, but how to avoid being attacked—keeping distance, observing the environment, and looking for exits.

"Most conflicts are decided before anyone throws a punch." Coach Mick's voice was hard. "Smart people use their brains to solve things; only idiots rush to throw fists."

Alex learned fast. Neural Reaction Enhancement allowed his body to understand and execute the coach's instructions faster, and the solid physical fitness granted by Physical Sublimation made his movements clean and crisp. Coach Mick noticed the anomaly after the third class.

"What have you trained in before?" During a break, Coach Mick handed him a bottle of water, his gaze sharp. "I'm not saying your moves are amazing, it's your learning speed. Muscle memory that usually takes dozens of repetitions for a normal person to form, you find the feel of it in just a few tries."

"Maybe it's because I often need to master new skills quickly when shooting videos." Alex unscrewed the cap, his tone natural. "And I've always had good athletic coordination since I was a kid."

This explanation barely made sense. Coach Mick stared at him for a few seconds and nodded: "Regardless, keep this learning attitude. Next week we'll start touching on basic counter-attack techniques—remember, what's taught here isn't to win a fight, it's to let you leave safely."

When leaving the gym, Alex's arms and shoulders were sore from repeatedly practicing blocking moves. He felt the fatigue of his muscles, but he could also feel Primary Self-Healing quietly working; that subtle sense of repair was like a warm undercurrent surging under his skin.

This was what he wanted: all abilities forming a closed loop. Training improved strength, self-healing accelerated recovery, and neural enhancement improved learning efficiency. And all of this was wrapped in a reasonable shell of "having athletic talent and strong learning ability."

---

On Wednesday evening, Alex sat at his computer on time and connected to the video call with Allison.

Allison on the screen was wearing loungewear with a simple home office as the background, but the expression on her face was more formal than ever before.

"Alex, I won't beat around the bush." She adjusted the camera. "The echo gallery received a better-than-expected response at last week's internal screening. All three participating investors gave it an A-level rating, and one of them even asked about the possibility of signing an exclusive art creation contract with you."

Alex didn't speak, just leaned forward slightly to indicate he was listening carefully.

"But that's not the most important thing." Allison paused, seemingly choosing her words. "A... very important potential partner contacted us through private channels after watching the echo gallery. She hopes to meet you in an informal setting to chat about the understanding of the work and the direction of possible future cooperation."

"She?" Alex caught this pronoun.

Allison's expression became a bit subtle: "Yes. This partner has extremely high influence in the music and art fields, and she rarely takes the initiative to propose such a meeting. If this meeting goes well, it could be of great help to your future development in the field of art content."

Alex understood immediately. Taylor Allison.

The woman he knew well in his past life and whose pseudonym and whereabouts he had confirmed through the system in this life. The core target he planned to approach but had to wait for the most suitable time.

"I understand." He remained calm. "Time, location?"

"Next Friday evening, Nashville. A private creative salon with no more than ten participants." Allison sent over an encrypted itinerary and precautions. "The other party emphasized that this is not a business meeting, but an exchange between creators. So dress casually, just bring your original intent."

"I will be there on time."

After the call ended, Alex leaned back in his chair and let out a long breath.

The door to the art path was opening at a speed and in a way he hadn't expected. This was earlier than he had anticipated, but also more dangerous—coming into contact with high-level figures too early meant being exposed to more complex rules and scrutiny sooner.

But he had no way out. If he missed this opportunity, there might not be a second one.

---

On Friday afternoon, Alex finished organizing materials for the group project in the campus library. Just as he was about to leave, Lena hurried over to find him.

"Alex, you have to see this." Lena handed over her phone; on the screen was a post on the campus forum.

The post title was sensational: "Where do the 'Creative Ideas' of Internet Celebrity Alex Su Come From?" The poster was anonymous, and the content listed a series of his works from "Dancing Sculpture" to the recent "Charlie 2025," then raised a few "questions":

"The creative concepts of these works are highly similar to the unpublished proposals of 'Visual Echo,' a niche art group in Los Angeles that disbanded three years ago. Is this a coincidence?"

"Student Alex Su mastered professional-level editing and shooting techniques from scratch in just a few months. Is there an 'external team' assisting?"

"Does his cooperation with multiple commercial companies involve undisclosed interest transfers?"

The post was written very skillfully, without direct accusations, just "raising questions." But the comments below were already fermenting in an unfavorable direction, and many anonymous accounts were inciting the rhythm, questioning his originality and the legitimacy of his success.

"This 'Visual Echo' group, I checked, it did exist." Lena lowered her voice. "But they disbanded three years ago due to funding problems, and all members left Los Angeles. There's no way to confront them. This is completely a dead-end accusation."

Alex returned the phone to Lena, his face calm.

"Derek's handiwork." He said lightly. "This technique is too familiar—using unfalsifiable rumors to create stains and destroy reputation. For a content creator who relies on creativity and credibility to make a living, this is more effective than a direct attack."

"What are you planning to do?"

"Responding now is equivalent to adding heat to this topic." Alex packed his things and stood up. "But ignoring it completely will make people think I'm guilty."

He walked out of the library and squinted in the sunlight. Crisis Intuition didn't send a strong warning, indicating that this matter was still at the level of public opinion and had no actual threat. But if left unchecked, it would slowly permeate like a stain.

Back at the apartment, Alex didn't start dealing with this matter immediately. He first finished the rough cut of the first episode of "Student Filmmaker Survival Guide," and then began planning his trip to Nashville next week.

It wasn't until 9 PM that he opened a document and started writing a long article.

The article title was simple: "About Creation, What I Want to Say."

He didn't directly refute the forum post, or even mention it. He just started from his first second-hand camera, talked about the breakdown during his first attempt at editing, talked about the experience of re-shooting a shot thirty times just to get it right, and talked about the inspiration he felt when he found that old-fashioned light meter at a flea market.

He shared photos of the twenty-seven hand-drawn storyboard sketches before shooting "Dancing Sculpture"—that was indeed the product of his frantic practice to understand the principles after exchanging for video editing skills from the system.

He posted screenshots of his first email correspondence with "Horizon Outdoors" (hiding commercial details), showing how the cooperation started from a simple self-recommendation letter.

Finally, he wrote:

"Creativity never comes from nothing. It stands on the shoulders of countless predecessors, absorbs the nutrients of the past, and then re-expresses it with current technology and personal understanding. If my work reminds you of something, that might be because we have both been touched by the same beauty."

"As for technical progress... there is no shortcut except practice. My computer contains over 800G of wasted footage, which is the tuition I paid."

"Thanks for all the questioning and attention. I will continue to create and let the next work speak for itself."

The article was published on his personal blog and the "long article" area of all social platforms. No promotion was bought, no deliberate traffic was driven.

Then, he turned off the computer and started packing for his trip to Nashville next week.

When he woke up the next morning, the article's view count had already exceeded 100,000. The trend in the comments section had clearly shifted, and many fellow creators left messages sharing their own similar experiences, forming a wave of "creator vindication." Although the anonymous post on the forum was still there, its heat had greatly diminished.

Lena sent a message: "So many people are forwarding your article! Even our department professor mentioned it in class, saying, 'This is the attitude a creator should have.'"

Alex smiled and didn't reply.

He knew this was just the first round. People like Derek wouldn't give up easily. But at least, he had established a more solid defensive position: the image of a creator willing to share the creative process openly and face questioning honestly.

And what really determines the outcome is never a war of words, but how good the next work is.

---

On Sunday evening, Alex stood in front of the full-length mirror in his apartment, trying on the casual suit prepared for the Nashville trip.

Dark gray linen material, tailored to fit but not tight. Inside was a simple white T-shirt, and on his feet were clean canvas shoes. It looked neither disrespectful nor too formal—fitting the atmosphere of a "creative salon."

He checked his luggage: laptop, sketchbook, portable voice recorder, and that old-fashioned light meter. These were his "weapons," the things a creator should bring.

His phone vibrated, and he received a text message from an unknown number:

"Flight information confirmed. Please contact this number upon arrival, and there will be a car to pick you up. Looking forward to meeting on Friday. — T.A."

Short sentences, no extra emojis. But the signature "T.A." said it all.

Alex saved the number and put the phone back in his pocket.

He walked to the window and looked at the night view of Los Angeles. This city had witnessed him waking up from a hospital bed to standing firm step by step. And now, he was going to another city to meet someone who might change his entire artistic trajectory.

The system interface quietly unfolded in his consciousness, with popularity values growing steadily, and those exchanged abilities settled deep in his body like cornerstones. Primary Self-Healing dissipated most of the fatigue from days of preparation, Neural Reaction Enhancement kept his thinking clear and sharp, and Crisis Intuition maintained a minimum level of alertness in the calm.

He was not yet powerful enough, but he already had the foundation to stand firm.

Nashville. Music City. Taylor Allison.

The door to the art path had opened, and what he had to do was walk in, and then let everyone see why he deserved to stand inside that door.

Outside the window, a night flight crossed the sky, its red navigation lights flickering in the night, like some kind of omen.

Alex pulled the curtains and turned off the lights in the room.

In the darkness, only the three symbols representing the source tendencies deep in his consciousness emitted a faint glimmer. They were still sleeping, waiting for more fuel, waiting for the day when their master truly needed to use the power of the rules.

And now, it was time for him to keep an appointment about beauty and resonance.