25: Chapter 25 Su Chen is live streaming? Millions of netizens are watching the live stream.

Xiaguan, Dali, second-hand market.

The wind whipped up plastic bags on the ground, spinning as it swept past the rusty iron roller shutter doors.

Yan Yu walked on the uneven bluestone road, her gaze sweeping across the shops on both sides piled with old motors and broken tires.

Didn't find him.

A-Li followed behind, rubbing his arms from the cold.

The phone in her pocket suddenly vibrated frantically.

Yan Yu took out her phone, and Zhou Le's voice call popped up on the screen.

As soon as it connected, Zhou Le's distorted scream pierced directly through the earpiece.

"Yubao! Quick, look at Douyin! He's started a livestream! He's in Dali Ancient City!"

Yan Yu's footsteps suddenly halted, and her brain buzzed.

Started a livestream?

Su Chen started a livestream?

How is this possible!

A person who went to great lengths to avoid traffic, how could he run to the crowded Dali Ancient City to livestream?

"Back to the car!" Yan Yu turned around and ran out.

In the Buick GL8.

Brother Cai and Xiao Liu were staring fixedly at the tablet on the center console, their complexions ashen.

Yan Yu pulled open the car door and climbed in, her vision instantly locked onto the screen.

A livestream room named [The Real Su Chen, Currently in Dali].

Online viewers: 300,000!

This data was simply terrifying to the extreme, and at this moment, almost all the traffic on the entire internet was sucked into this livestream room.

The background of the screen was Renmin Road in Dali Ancient City, brightly lit, with tourists surrounding it three layers deep.

Right in the center of the camera stood a man.

Wearing the same washed-out grey short-sleeve shirt and black sweatpants.

Sporting his signature slightly curly, broken fringe, with a large black mask on his face, revealing only a pair of eyes.

Next to him even stood a shoddy roll-up banner printed with three large characters: Thirteen Seconds.

Yan Yu stared at the person on the screen, her brows instantly knitting into a dead knot.

"Brother Cai, look at this person..."

"Fake." Brother Cai didn't hesitate at all, sneering, "Nowadays, any Tom, Dick, and Harry dares to come out and freeload."

A-Li leaned over to take a look, his face full of doubt: "He looks quite a bit like him, the clothes and hairstyle are the same, and he's also pretty tall and thin."

"Like my ass." Brother Cai pointed at the man's shoulders on the screen. "Insiders look at the doorway. Look at his standing posture."

Yan Yu took over with a cold face: "His center of gravity is floating, and his shoulders are collapsed. The angle of his feet apart shows no trace of professional dance training at all. A person who has practiced muscle control to the cellular level will have their core tightened even when standing casually. This person stands like a boiled-soft noodle."

In the livestream room, the bullet chats were already completely crazy.

[Grandmaster! Finally found you!]

[I knew you were hiding in Dali! Quickly take off the mask and let us see that handsome face!]

[Worship the great god! Do you take apprentices? I bring capital into the crew!]

[This temperament is peerless, so handsome even wearing a mask!]

[Is it Dali? I'm going right now!]

[Teacher!! I am your long-lost apprentice! Stand there and don't move, I'm coming to find you!!!]

[Get lost, I am the real teacher's apprentice, you bunch of six-eared macaques!]

[Oh my god, 300,000 people online simultaneously right as the broadcast starts, first time seeing this in my life!]

[Damn, damn, damn, why wasn't I in Dali?]

[Grass! Where are that group of people who said it was Lijiang, tricking me into running to the wrong place!]

[...]

The gift effects filling the screen made the footage almost stutter. Sports cars, rockets, and carnivals were smashed upward as if they cost nothing.

Countless people tricked by fake news into other places cursed angrily in the bullet chats, but were quickly submerged in this white sea of bullet chats.

Su Chen on the screen was holding a microphone, his voice processed by a voice changer, sounding somewhat distorted.

"Thanks for the family's gifts." Fake Su Chen waved his hand, deliberately putting on a casual look, "Kunming was too noisy, so I came to Dali to clear my head. Didn't expect you guys to find me after all."

"Starting the broadcast today with no other purpose. Once likes break ten million, I will recreate those thirteen seconds for everyone."

[The Grandmaster has spoken, what are you waiting for, give me likes everyone!!!]

[I'm charging in right now!!!]

[Master wait for me, I'll like you up to twenty million!!!]

[Are we finally going to watch a live performance?]

[Mom, I finally got to see a live broadcast!~]

[...]

As soon as these words came out, the popularity of the livestream room soared once again.

The number of likes jumped frantically at a rate of 100,000 per second.

Countless people liked the screen.

At this moment.

The footage in the livestream room was a bit laggy.

...

Yan Yu was so angry that her finger knuckles turned white.

Too disgusting.

Under Su Chen's banner, using this shoddy imitation to cash in front of millions of people across the entire internet.

This is an insult to that god-level thirteen-second scene!

"Don't rush." Brother Cai lit a cigarette, "The higher they are lifted, the harder they fall. Those thirteen seconds, are they something an ordinary person can imitate?"

Ten million likes arrived in a flash.

Fake Su Chen snapped his fingers at the camera. "Alright, family, cue the music."

From the shoddy speakers came the heavy bass intro of BANG BANG BANG.

In the Buick car, Yan Yu, Brother Cai, and A-Li, along with over 1.3 million people across the entire internet, held their breath simultaneously.

The heavy beat dropped!

Fake Su Chen moved.

He thrust his chest forward abruptly.

The screen froze for half a second.

Deathly silence inside the car.

"Pfft—"

A-Li spat all the mouthful of mineral water he had just drunk onto the windshield.

Brother Cai's hand holding the cigarette froze in mid-air, the corner of his eye twitching violently.

Yan Yu was so angry she laughed.

On the screen, Fake Su Chen's movements continued.

He tried to make continuous chest and shoulder isolations.

But he couldn't find the point of exertion at all.

His shoulders were uneven, his neck stretched forward, his chest pushed forward stiffly, and his hips twisted left and right like he was having a cramp.

There was no explosive feeling of instantaneous muscle contraction.

He didn't hit a single sixteenth note accurately.

This was a set of extremely stiff broadcast gymnastics with a strong rural-urban fringe vibe!

They were even worse than the five farming big brothers of the Bengshan Brothers! At least their framework was correct and their exertion was cohesive.

This guy was completely relying on his joints to tough it out!

The most ridiculous thing was that in the end, he copied the original version by stepping his right foot back, trying to hit an Electric Wave.

As a result, his body wasn't steady, his left foot tripped over his right foot, and he staggered a large step to the side, almost tumbling headfirst into the flowerbed beside him.

The music stopped abruptly.

Fake Su Chen quickly stood steady, coughing awkwardly twice at the camera: "Um... the wind is too strong here in Dali, didn't warm up, and my hands are rusty."

The entire livestream room had over two million people.

The bullet chats experienced a fault line lasting up to five seconds.

Five seconds later, the backlash erupted like a tsunami.

The full screen of question marks instantly plastered the entire screen to death.

[??????]

[Am I blind? What the fuck kind of thing was that dance?]

[You call this rusty hands? You call this broken hands!]

[Refund!!! Geneva, refund!]

[Do you think all netizens on the whole internet are mentally retarded? Is your chest popping just you hiccuping because you ate too much last night?]

[Is this fucking dance grandmaster who became popular all over Douyin???]

[...]

Yan Yu directly switched to her million-follower major account and typed a line of bold red text on the public screen.

[Yan Yu (Million Followers): You dare to call yourself Su Chen? You haven't even touched the threshold of the most basic rhythm, and your isolation relies entirely on twisting your waist. Did you sprain your waist moving bricks at a construction site during those thirteen seconds?]

Brother Cai followed closely behind, directly unleashing his ultimate using the official account of Buqi Dance Troupe.

[Buqi Dance Troupe Official (Ten Million Followers): Stop making a fool of yourself. The original version's framework is god-level control, while yours is a full-body stroke. Call the police, it's fraud.]

As soon as the two verified major accounts entered the arena, they directly set the final verdict on this farce.

The passersby and fans in the livestream room were completely enraged.

Those big bosses who gifted carnivals directly turned on their mics to curse.

[Fuck your mother! Livestreaming here to scam money??]

[Moronic thing, I consider the money I gifted as buying a coffin for you, you fucking stand there and don't move, watch me come over and slaughter you!]

[Damn, daring to scam my money, you wait for me!]

[...]

The internet big bosses cursed very fiercely.

The tourists watching on-site also came to their senses.

"He's a liar!"

"Refund!"

"Your dancing is not even as good as the square dancing aunties!"

Several hot-tempered big bosses rushed directly into the frame and tore off Fake Su Chen's mask.

Revealing a face full of pimples and panic.

It was not that man with cold eyes and an attitude soaring to the heavens at all!

Completely different from that photo!!

"Stop filming! Stop filming!"

Fake Su Chen covered his face, abandoning even the speakers, and fled in panic by pushing through the crowd.

The next second.

The livestream room was instantly banned, and the screen turned black.

Inside the Buick car.

Brother Cai stubbed out his half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray and shook his head.

"Too miserable." A-Li wiped the water stains from the corner of his mouth, "This buddy probably won't dare to go online ever again in his life."

Yan Yu looked at the darkened screen and let out a long breath of foul air.

This farce was over.

But it brought an aftermath that whipped up an even bigger storm across the entire internet.

Without comparison, there is no harm.

Fake Su Chen's clumsiness and comicalness were like a demon-reflecting mirror, forcefully elevating the gold content of the original thirteen-second video to a pedestal that ordinary people could never reach.

In the past, some people were still stubborn, saying that Su Chen's movements could be imitated with just a few days of practice.

Now, two million people had witnessed firsthand the end of the imitator.

That kind of control that broke muscles down to the cellular level, that kind of rhythm that kneaded music into the bones.

It was simply not something that could be casually rivaled by wearing the same clothes and getting the same hairstyle.

"Now it's good." Brother Cai leaned against the car window, looking at the dark street outside, "After this battle, the name Su Chen can be considered completely deified in the Chinese Entertainment Industry's dance circle. Whoever dares to impersonate him again won't even need us to make a move; the netizens' spit will drown them to death."

Yan Yu didn't speak.

She pushed open the car door and stood once again in the chilly wind of the Xiaguan second-hand market.

The internet's clamor, crackdown on fakes, and deification.

For her, none of it mattered.

What mattered was that the real Su Chen still didn't know where he was.

"Let's go." Yan Yu tightened her backpack straps, "Keep searching."