Conquering the Stars and My Haters’ Hearts - Chapter 20

Xi Liang was an ordinary military academy student. He had a passion for web novels and enjoyed reading The Galaxy magazine in his spare time.

The magazine held a prestigious status as the current market leader in sales. Furthermore, it featured the serialized works of the interstellar titan, Wade. It’s safe to say that eight out of ten readers who bought the magazine were fans of Wade.

However, Xi Liang was just a neutral reader. He didn’t participate in the online boycotts against the newcomer Ning Xie; on the contrary, he found Ning Xie’s writing quite compelling.

Up until now, the story The Starry Heavens had maintained a lighthearted atmosphere. The romance between the leads developed naturally as they worked toward a common goal, radiating a sense of warmth and optimism. This distinct departure from the “grim-dark” norm was exactly why the story had drawn so much criticism from haters.

Xi Liang, however, found it refreshing. He enjoyed the “fluff” so much that he tried looking for other lighthearted romance novels, only to find that their quality couldn’t hold a candle to Ning Xie’s. Out of desperation, he sought out Ning

Xie’s older works, only to end up with red-rimmed eyes from how heartbreakingly tragic they were.

In contrast, Xi Liang realized his favorite was still The Starry Heavens. It had been sweet for so long, and while the plot had become more serious recently, he was certain it wouldn’t end in tragedy like the author’s previous works.

With that hopeful mindset, Xi Liang flipped to the latest update only to feel his heart skip a beat.

The previous lightheartedness had vanished completely, replaced by prose thick with unease. Due to the sudden outbreak of war, the protagonists—having just graduated chose not to marry immediately. Instead, on a quiet night with only the two of them present, they exchanged engagement rings and promised to hold their wedding once the war ended.

At this point, Xi Liang felt a chilling premonition. Any experienced reader knew that the “we’ll get married after the war” vow was a classic Death Flag—a harbinger of a tragic ending.

As the protagonists headed to separate battlefields, thousands of miles apart, their hearts remained tethered. While the update didn’t feature many twists for the main couple, the depiction of the war was brutal and visceral. Supporting characters began to die tragic deaths.

Most notably, a senior student who had been strict and even somewhat likable to the male lead died protecting him from an attack. Before passing, the senior—who the male lead realized only then truly cared for him offered a rare, gentle smile.

This scene was so gut-wrenching that Xi Liang was moved to tears. His previous annoyance with the character transformed instantly into profound grief. How could such a good person die? He felt a sudden, violent urge to send “blades” (death threats/hate mail) to the author for being so cruel.

Compared to this raw emotional impact, Wade’s tragic scenes felt superficial. Looking back at Wade’s work, Xi Liang thought: Are you kidding me? This is supposed to be sad, but I feel zero immersion. It’s like watching puppets perform.

Even some of Wade’s fans felt their “rose-tinted glasses” shattering. Why did the recent updates feel so dull? They tried to convince themselves it was just a “transition phase” and that an old god like Wade couldn’t possibly be losing his touch.

In truth, Wade’s skill hadn’t changed; it was the readers’ tastes that had been unconsciously elevated.

While Vader’s fans were wavering, neutral readers like Xi Liang converted instantly into Ning Xie’s devotees. They realized the online smear campaigns were purely malicious. Many “tragedy lovers” who read the update were left in agonizing pain and loved the author all the more for it.

Recommendations for The Starry Heavens flooded forums again. This time, when Wade’s die-hard fans and paid trolls tried to suppress them, they found their attacks ineffective. There were simply too many readers praising the book, and with their own ranks defecting, they couldn’t keep up.

Mockery began to shift toward Wade:

“Wade must be at his wit’s end to resort to suppressing a newcomer. Has Ning Xie said a word this whole time? No, he’s proving himself with talent, while Wade’s fans just bark.”

Wade, realizing that overplaying his hand was becoming counterproductive, ordered the trolls to stop and attempted to reclaim his “gracious senior” persona. He still refused to read Xie Anning’s work. With his status and wealth, he was already eyeing the Tianji Literature City. Why would he read a newcomer’s drivel? He chalked up the situation to a temporary “rebellious phase” from the public.

However, the momentum of The Starry Heavens was unstoppable. This latest plot twist sent its popularity skyrocketing, culminating in the newest rankings.

“Teacher Wade, the popularity rankings are out.” His assistant stood trembling at the door. “You, you are ranked second.”

“What?” Wade’s face twisted. “Impossible!”

Since his rise to fame, he had never dropped from the number one spot at The Galaxy. Some even said Wade was the magazine. To him, every newcomer was just someone trying to ride his coattails.

“Don’t be too upset, Teacher,” the assistant stammered. “You’re in a transition phase, and your focus is on your new project. Ning Xie just happened to hit a plot climax. It’s just a coincidence.”

The editorial staff tried to tell themselves the same thing, but they were shaken. They finally realized Ning Xie wasn’t a “nobody.” In a very short time, he had become the most popular author in the magazine besides Wade. In fact, many reader comments were more passionate about Ning Xie than they had ever been about the veteran.

Xie Anning, having anticipated this, remained calm. His editor, Xixi, was far more excited.

“Teacher Ning Xie, you’re amazing! Rank one! This spot hasn’t changed in years!”

Xie Anning offered her a few comforting words, which only solidified her image of him as a composed master. She secretly wondered if he really was a “Big God” using an alt account.

Xie Anning didn’t plan on staying at The Galaxy forever. The reach of web novels far exceeded magazines. Furthermore, he knew the magazine’s higher-ups had only given him this chance to use him as a foil for Wade. He had no intention of staying to be insulted further.

After the update, Xie Anning opened his livestream. Over the past month, his fan base had grown to over 10 million, thanks in part to the Jin Xinheng incident.

While he tried to be polite, he noticed that his fans actually preferred his “cold and arrogant” persona—they felt it suited a top-tier expert. This persona also helped protect his real-world identity.

Interestingly, his use of a “budget” mecha during his duel with Jin Xinheng had caused a massive spike in sales for that specific model. The mecha company was so shocked that they reached out to him for an endorsement deal.

“Our mecha is heavy and ‘ugly,’ but this master makes it look legendary!” they thought. They offered him a lucrative contract, allowing him to keep his face hidden if he wished. Xie Anning accepted, amused that his lack of credits (which forced him to buy the cheap mecha initially) had been interpreted as “true love” for the brand.

Once the stream ended, Xie Anning invited Qiushui Changtian and Ferdinand for some 3v3 matches. He found the team-based, multi-map games much more relaxing than formal duels.

Qiushui Changtian, the ultimate fanboy, accepted instantly. He felt like he had used up a lifetime of luck being able to play with his idol every day. He was only slightly baffled by one thing: How on earth did Xie Anning and Ferdinand end up getting along so well?

As they played, Ferdinand’s subordinates watched their young master from the sidelines, wondering what could be so important that he was skipping his academy training sessions.

Shortly after, Ferdinand appeared to receive a notification. He issued strict orders to his subordinates that he was not to be disturbed under any circumstances, then settled into his nutrient pod.

A nutrient pod was leagues ahead of a standard virtual helmet, offering a far superior immersive experience in the holographic world. Prolonged use of a helmet often led to physical fatigue and difficulty concentrating, whereas a nutrient pod eliminated these issues while providing a much more realistic simulation.

Of course, the price tag was beyond the reach of the average person. Entry-level pods started at a million Imperial credits, a high-quality model cost several million, and top-tier versions could reach tens of millions. Even now, Xie Anning hadn’t saved enough to buy the high-end pod he had his eye on—after all, not every fan was generous enough to drop a hundred thousand credits in a single donation. He refused to settle for a low-spec model; in his mind, if it wasn’t top-tier, he might as well stick with the helmet.

If the public knew that such a formidable expert had been fighting with a standard virtual helmet this whole time, they would be utterly stunned. In high-level combat, reaction requirements are extreme; a gap of a second or two can change the entire outcome. Consequently, all “Great Gods” used elite nutrient pods. If a person could match the performance of pod-users while using a mere helmet, it was almost unimaginable how powerful they would be once they finally upgraded.

Watching Ferdinand’s cold, focused expression, his subordinate grew tense. The second young master must be handling a matter of grave importance—likely a family assignment. I must ensure no one interrupts him!

Meanwhile, the man his subordinate thought was doing “serious business” had logged on, immediately accepted Xie Anning’s invitation, and entered the game room.

Ferdinand had secretly set Xie Anning’s status to “Special Follow.” The moment Anning sent a message, he received it.

Xie Anning, his face still obscured by the system’s mosaic effect, gave Ferdinand a friendly greeting. Ferdinand responded with a curt nod, his handsome face maintaining an aloof expression.

“I’m only here because I’ve been incredibly bored lately,” Ferdinand said coolly.

This was despite the fact that he had just blown off a critical training session at the academy.

Xie Anning, well-acquainted with his prickly personality, simply nodded. Their current dynamic—playing games together like old friends had started when Anning wanted to practice some foundational mecha maneuvers and reached out to Ferdinand for advice. He had expected a rejection, but to his surprise, Ferdinand had agreed.

In fact, Ferdinand seemed “bored” enough to accept every single invitation Anning sent. It was almost touching. Xie Anning didn’t take the cold words at face value; he saw right through Ferdinand’s tsundere tendencies and decided the guy was actually quite a “good person.”

Ferdinand, for his part, completely ignored Qiushui Changtian. He didn’t even bother with a greeting; he was clearly annoyed by this “little brother” figure who was so close to Xie Anning.

Qiushui Changtian didn’t mind the cold shoulder. He was too busy feeling emotional. Who would have thought that the teammate he once mistook for a primary schooler would turn out to be such a legendary God? Or that the terrifying opponent who had nearly crushed them would now be their regular gaming partner?

After a quick exchange, Xie Anning hit “Start.” The screen faded to black, and they materialized in a Rock Pile map.

The Match Begins. The map was cluttered with massive boulders, providing enough cover to hide a mecha completely. However, the terrain demanded high technical skill; one wrong move could result in a collision. It was considered one of the more difficult maps.

Qiushui Changtian’s heart sank. At the academy, he was often forced to practice on similar maps and found them agonizing. The precision required is just too high!

Then he looked over and saw Xie Anning and Ferdinand maneuvering their mechas through the labyrinth of stone with effortless grace, quickly finding ideal spots to set up an ambush.

Qiushui Changtian: “…” Right, I forgot. For experts, this is child’s play.

As he struggled to navigate his own mecha, he overheard the conversation on the team channel.

“I feel like my movements are still missing a bit of fluidity. This map is tricky,” Xie Anning remarked.

“You can’t even handle a simple map like this?” Ferdinand’s cold voice came through. “Watch me. This is how it’s done.”

Qiushui Changtian could have sworn he heard a trace of tenderness beneath that arrogant tone. I must be going deaf, he thought.

On the other side, their opponents had entered the game.

The leader, going by the handle ‘Nightfall,’ was also a streamer. He had decent skills and the sunny looks of a “pretty boy” idol. However, he made his living primarily by “smurfing”—stomping casual players in matchmaking rather than climbing the ranked ladders. His fans loved watching him dominate weaker opponents; after all, watching a slaughter was entertaining.

Nightfall was currently live-streaming this match. His teammates were also competent, capable of handling the occasional skilled opponent they might encounter.

When Nightfall saw the terrain, he felt confident. This map was a nightmare for newbies but a playground for him. As for actual “Gods”? Why would they be in unranked matchmaking? They were all in the Arena or the Ranked Leagues.

I can relax and stomp these guys, he thought. I might not even need my teammates to lift a finger.

Nightfall turned to his camera with a boastful grin. “Alright, everyone, watch closely. I’m going to show you how to use this terrain to 1v3 the enemy team! They’re unlucky to have run into me today. If they can survive for more than ten minutes, I’ll surrender on the spot.”

At that moment, he had no idea what had happened to the last person who told Xie Anning: “If you can hold out for ten minutes.”