Conquering the Stars and My Haters’ Hearts - Chapter 16

Ferdinand saw through the plan immediately. Jin Xinheng clearly intended to slap his face by crushing “Call Me Daddy.” It left him deeply unsettled.

It wasn’t just competitive salt; it was the prickly irritation of seeing something he’d taken an interest in being pried at by others, especially by a guy like Jin Xinheng, with whom he had a frosty relationship at best.

He knew ” Call Me Daddy” had terrifyingly high mental power; in a direct clash of wills, Jin Xinheng wouldn’t stand a chance. However, Jin Xinheng was anything but a fair player. He was notorious for underhanded tactics. Given the streamer’s lackluster technical maneuvering, he was likely to get baited into a trap.

Losing the match was one thing, but if his mental faculties were damaged in the process, his life would be effectively ruined. Jin Xinheng wasn’t the merciful type who would let an opponent off easy.

The more Ferdinand paced, the darker his expression became. Finally, after the stream ended, he pulled up his personal terminal and clicked on ” Call Me Daddy” in his contacts. Their interactions had been minimal due to Ferdinand’s inherent pride, but now he had to speak up.

“I didn’t expect that guy to be your next opponent,” Ferdinand messaged, his tone characteristically stiff. “I don’t usually meddle, but this involves me too. I wouldn’t mind sparing a bit of time to give you some pointers.”

Had Xie Anning accepted, Ferdinand was fully prepared to clear his entire day’s schedule. Unlike other gifted pilots who slacked off, Ferdinand’s fundamentals were rock-solid because he practiced relentlessly. He was arrogant, but he had the capital to back it up.

Anyone else would have had their jaw hit the floor seeing Ferdinand awkwardly offering to tutor someone.

Instead, Xie Anning sent a friendly reply: “Thanks a lot! But since my account rank isn’t high enough for the Arena match yet, I need to grind some points today. Maybe next time if you’re free!”

Xie Anning genuinely thought Ferdinand was a classic “tough exterior, soft heart” kind of guy. He shared some traits with Anders, but his character was leagues better.

Ferdinand frowned at the screen. He couldn’t shake the feeling of unease. He checked the friend list to see what the streamer was doing only to find him playing ranked matches with that “Autumn Waters” person again.

The Arena has a fixed start time, so grinding ranked matches for points makes sense, but that’s not the point! Why was this “Autumn Waters” always hanging around? Ferdinand knew the guy was just riding Xie Anning’s coattails, but it rankled him nonetheless. If the streamer had just asked, he would have played ranked with him! Then the “tutoring” would have happened naturally!

Autumn Waters was essentially Xie Anning’s #1 fan. He sent daily messages while being careful not to be a nuisance. Since Xie Anning wasn’t a cold person, they had become quite familiar, often duo-queueing in ranked which, for

Autumn Waters, usually meant a free ride to victory.

“Tomorrow’s match might be trouble,” Autumn Waters said, his voice laced with worry. “I’ve watched some of Jin Xinheng’s replays. He’s crippled quite a few opponents. He overstimulates their neural links to cause mental damage—some people have literally gone insane on the spot! Most people just surrender the moment they see they’re matched against him. He has the background to just pay a fine and walk away; no one can touch him.”

Xie Anning nodded. “Sounds like a bit of a headache.”

I guess the money isn’t that easy to earn after all. Ferdinand’s warning made more sense now; Jin Xinheng was likely targeting him specifically to spite Ferdinand. Dealing with these social entanglements was such a chore.

Autumn Waters continued, “I heard he uses all sorts of dirty tricks. Challenging you personally? He’s definitely jealous of your talent and wants to break you before you become a threat. I know you won’t lose in a fair fight, ‘Daddy,’ but I’m scared of what he’ll do behind the scenes.”

Autumn Waters grew more anxious by the second, but Xie Anning was already committed. He had accepted the challenge in front of a massive audience; backing out now would lead to a total collapse of his fanbase.

Xie Anning, however, was being pragmatic. It was too late to cram basic mech theory. If things looked bad tomorrow, he’d just forfeit. Losing to a high-ranking player was perfectly normal, anyway.

As for the fear of becoming a “vegetable” from mental damage? He wasn’t particularly worried—he had a potion for that in his inventory. He was basically playing with a built-in cheat code.

If Jin Xinheng really tries something underhanded, Xie Anning thought, I’ll just splash that ‘Water of Misfortune’ I pulled earlier right on him. If it worked well, he could even use his recent points to buy a few more.

Anxiety was a foreign concept to Xie Anning. The only thing that ever made his hair stand on end was a looming deadline from his editor. Even being mobbed for autographs outside school couldn’t shake his inner peace.

News of Jin Xinheng’s challenge spread like wildfire, fueled by his subordinates and a hired PR team. They contacted various high-profile influencers to repost the news, ensuring that almost everyone in the gaming community knew.

While the focus was on Jin Xinheng, ” Call Me Daddy” also drew massive attention mostly because the name itself was a magnet for clicks. It felt even more audacious than Young Master Jin’s own persona.

Xie Anning’s social media account was unearthed. An account that had struggled to reach 10,000 followers over several days suddenly exploded toward 100,000. Not all were true fans, but they were certainly curious.

The account was managed by the System, and Xie Anning rarely checked it. When he finally did, he was stunned.

The “vibe” of the account was aggressively arrogant.

It matched the energy of his livestream and game ID—that specific brand of “lonely at the top” elitism. When a true master says it, it sounds profound and stylish; when anyone else says it, it just sounds punchable.

The latest post actually tagged Jin Xinheng. In an incredibly cocky tone, it claimed he would “crush the opposition” tomorrow, capped off with a profoundly irritating smirking emoji.

When Jin Xinheng saw it, he almost laughed from pure rage. A “clown” he didn’t even respect had the audacity to talk big? Did the guy really think he was on his level? He was practically begging for death. He vowed to turn ” Call Me Daddy” into a literal cripple—though he’d never planned on letting him off easy to begin with.

Jin Xinheng reposted the message, sneering that tomorrow he would beat Xie Anning so hard his own mother wouldn’t recognize him.

Young Master Jin wasn’t running a charity. The prize money he promised wasn’t a gift; it was an advance payment for Xie Anning’s medical bills.

The comments section was a battlefield of mockery. While many were Jin Xinheng’s fans, even passersby found the streamer’s arrogance grating. They felt ” Call Me Daddy” had just gotten lucky against Ferdinand and a few scrubs. They were waiting with bated breath to see him get humbled by a real pro.

Then there were the “fanboys” and “fangirls” whose vibes were completely different—they lived for the System’s brand of arrogance, convinced “Daddy” was the ultimate powerhouse. They had already changed their own IDs to match his style.

One thing was certain: with a social media presence like that, absolutely no one would ever associate the account with the real-life Xie Anning.

Xie Anning was briefly startled, but quickly felt a sense of relief, realizing the System was actually quite reliable. He had no intention of exposing his real-world identity anyway; past experience had taught him that keeping these personas separate might open up more opportunities down the road. Besides, this interstellar world was remarkably dangerous—one could apparently lose their mind just from playing a video game.

Elsewhere, Ning Xiujin had also taken notice of the upcoming match.

He had watched the duel between “Call Me Daddy” and Ferdinand previously and had been genuinely stunned by the streamer’s rate of improvement. He had even rewatched the recording several times, feeling a strong urge to personally test his skills against the man.

Since then, however, his interest had waned into disappointment. It seemed “Call Me Daddy” was content to just coast through ordinary ranked matches and arena fights; his recent performances lacked that initial spark of brilliance, suggesting he was destined to fade into mediocrity.

In reality, Xie Anning felt he was being incredibly diligent by carving out time for a few matches every day. But to someone like Ning Xiujin, “diligence” meant grinding from dawn to dusk and breaking into the top tiers to face elite masters within days. Playing only a few rounds a day was a sign of a poor attitude—it suggested one didn’t truly love mechs.

Consequently, Ning Xiujin had stopped following him. After all, talented people were a dime a dozen. He hadn’t expected such a massive scandal to break today, and it immediately piqued his curiosity once more.

“I wonder if you’ll disappoint me this time.”