The Light Attribute Protagonist might be weak, but compared to the Ice Attribute Character, they’re much stronger—and far more versatile.
From the first floor to the eighteenth, the Light Attribute Character can clear them all.
Xie Feiran opened the dungeon, skillfully dodging the first wave of monster attacks.
He’d run this dungeon countless times, and could play it blindfolded.
He lured monster skills with practiced ease, calculating the monsters’ internal cooldowns and his own skill timers, canceling end-lag with jumps, and using frame tricks to extend his character’s damage window.
Inside the dungeon, monsters were spun in circles by Xie Feiran, unable to touch him at all.
After almost three minutes, Xie Feiran still hadn’t shaved off half a bar of the monster’s HP.
At this point, the barrage was getting anxious.
[Time’s almost up!]
[No way to get a perfect score now.]
[Feiran never said he was aiming for a perfect score.]
[Feiran, keep going! Even if you scrape until the end, victory is victory!]
Right then, Xie Feiran narrowed his eyes.
He knew time was up.
At the very last second, the monster’s HP bar suddenly emptied.
Players watching the screen froze at the massive white damage numbers.
The monster hadn’t been scraped to death by Xie Feiran’s protagonist, but had smashed itself against the wall and died!
[He baited the monster’s skill to trigger its charge early!]
[I think I saw this trick on the forum—a top player wrote a clear guide for Xie Feiran, but the trigger conditions were so harsh no one could pull it off.]
[A pro’s hands are hands, my hands are just for looking normal.]
For the next seventeen floors, Xie Feiran cleared every stage at the very last second, brute-forcing his way to a perfect score on all eighteen layers of the Secret Realm with the Light Attribute Protagonist.
Incredibly, from start to finish, the protagonist in his hands didn’t lose a single HP.
This was even harder than baiting monster skills—zero mistakes in a high-intensity, thirty-minute dungeon!
Only the top-tier could manage such a feat.
Even if an ordinary person was willing to learn every detail about the monsters, master every trick, and practice thousands of times, it was still a mountain to climb.
But for Xie Feiran, that wasn’t the case.
The Tina Continent on his tablet was freshly downloaded, and the account was provided by the game’s original illustrator, Shi Baiyan.
Before playing, he’d only skimmed the official monster introductions once.
Now, Xie Feiran had become a genius in the eyes of countless players.
In truth, he hadn’t practiced clearing the stage thousands of times with the character.
But when he was still a game character, he had to enter the Secret Realm tens of thousands of times every day.
Even after he could no longer play, he remained deeply concerned about everything happening inside.
Afterward, Xie Feiran exited the game, looking somewhat relaxed.
The barrage was full of laughter, calling for those who had set flags to do a handstand and scrape.
[What the hell, I don’t believe it—he actually pulled it off!]
[Hurry up and do the handstand scrape.]
[The protagonist really can clear all eighteen layers of the Secret Realm.]
Xie Feiran smiled, placed the now-black screen tablet aside, then looked at the camera.
“Electronic sports—being bad is the original sin.”
[Is he being chuuni again?]
[As a Tina Continent player, why do I feel personally attacked?]
[Me too.]
“I might not be the Xie Feiran you imagine.”
Xie Feiran said, lowering his head.
“Since we’ve met, let’s walk this journey together.”
“Good night.”
As his voice faded, the room fell into darkness.
The entire livestream was shrouded in silence.
At the same time, Xie Feiran’s gaming broadcast was recorded, edited, and uploaded to the game forum with an exaggerated title.
[Scraping Protagonist Clears Eighteen Layers of Secret Realm in Thirty Minutes Without a Scratch]
First comment: How could anyone clear all eighteen layers of the Secret Realm using just the protagonist?
Second comment: The music and the gameplay got my blood pumping—I rushed in with the protagonist and came back with a bruised face.
Third comment: Are you serious? No damage the whole time?
Fourth comment: Is it possible they used a cheat? Can anyone really run the Secret Realm with zero mistakes?
Fifth comment: Xie Feiran was fully on camera in the video; his hands are clear as day—if you can’t tell whether he’s cheating, you need your eyes checked.
Sixth comment: Electronic sports—being bad is the original sin.
He’s this strong—if he doesn’t go pro, it’s a waste.
Seventh comment: Honestly, are you sure you didn’t speed up the video? After that normal attack, he jumps to cancel the lag so fast I saw afterimages.
Eighth comment: His anticipation of the monsters was godlike—like every move was under his control.
After the post hit over a thousand comments, a highly respected gaming master appeared.
It was Ling Feng.
From this video, you can see he predicts monster movements and baits skills through intense calculations, timing the monster’s mechanics and his own skill cooldowns, weaving in normal attacks between gaps.
Even I find it hard to pull off.
His hands are extremely agile—whether it’s Tina Continent or another game, he’d be top tier.
As for those flashy techniques in the video—they were proposed by a Theory Master who’s an ultimate die-hard Xie Feiran fan.
But let me be clear: theory is theory.
In real operation, almost no one can pull them off.
For example, tricking a monster into crashing into a wall and dying.
From the start, it requires mental calculation, prediction, and precise timing—ordinary people simply can’t do it.
Still, this video shows me that theory can become reality.
The Theory Master Ling Feng referred to was Xie Feiran’s account on the game forum.
When Xie Feiran could barely play, he proposed many moves normal people wouldn’t dare imagine.
Of course, none of them were ever realized—until an Idol Trainee brought them to life.
Gamers respect strength.
As long as you’re strong, nothing else matters.
Strength fans and elite players alike started to warm up to Xie Feiran.
In the end, everyone summed up their feelings in one sentence.
You have world championship-level skill—why survive on your looks?
The next morning, Xie Feiran woke up to several trending searches—mostly bought by Polar Bear.
＃Another interpretation of Flame＃with a dance video from Xie Feiran’s team.
＃Why survive on looks when you could live on skill＃paired with Xie Feiran’s thirty-minute no-damage dungeon clear.
＃Xie Feiran’s boyfriend power＃with a video of Xie Feiran pulling Luo Wen.
In short, the top trending searches were all dominated by Xie Feiran.
After waking up, Xie Feiran logged into the game forum.
By now, many users had tagged him, urging him to watch the thirty-minute no-damage clear and marveling at how his theories had been pushed to the limit.
Reading the discussions, Xie Feiran couldn’t help but smile.
He’d won the favor of the hardest-to-convince group of players in the game.
Happily, he replied: I’m glad.
I hope everyone will treat the characters they love well.
After replying, Xie Feiran disconnected his consciousness from the game forum and went to wash up leisurely.
Meanwhile, the voting zone for Polar Bear Youth was going crazy—numbers were climbing non-stop.
Xie Feiran held first place, leaving second place tens of thousands of votes behind—a chasmic lead.
Just as his fans thought he was securely in first, several Shenghua artists suddenly surged in votes, threatening to overtake Xie Feiran.
Xie Feiran’s fans panicked, scrambling to rally votes, only to be overtaken several times.
At Shenghua Entertainment, Qiyu sat on the sofa.
His right hand was still bandaged—the injury from last time hadn’t healed.
“Did you take care of the numbers on the Polar Bear side?”
Qiyu asked, frowning at the call that wouldn’t connect.
“We’ve already talked with Polar Bear and got the fans to spend more.”
The manager replied.
It was Shenghua’s usual tactic—fake data and force fans to spend.
Qiyu nodded, then instructed those beside him.
“Go tell Qiusheng to stop targeting Xie Feiran so blatantly—it’s petty. There are plenty of ways to deal with him later. No need to rush.”
Song Qiusheng’s attacks on Xie Feiran were too obvious—petty and low-class.
Qiyu frowned—after so long in the entertainment industry, Qiusheng still couldn’t keep up appearances.
“Yes, I’ll let him know.”
On the other side, after several back-and-forths, Xie Feiran’s fans noticed something was off.
They realized these people were faking votes and quickly started a heated argument.
Xie Feiran fans accused them of data fraud, but the others retorted confidently: If you have the guts, top up for your idol.
Our numbers come from real spending.
Xie Feiran’s fans were furious, reaching for their wallets, when suddenly Xie Feiran posted on Weibo: Children, don’t spend money on this.
Adults, do so within your means.
For a moment, everyone was speechless.
What kind of idol tells fans not to spend recklessly?
Xie Feiran was the first.
Yet Xie Feiran felt he was only doing what a legitimate game should—moderate spending, rational consumption.
In the end, fans racked their brains for another way to gather votes.
How about we go to the Tina Continent game forum and ask for support for Brother Feiran?
Nervously, the fans braced themselves to be scolded and kicked out.
To their surprise, the gamers were unexpectedly agreeable.
Players: What! Someone’s cheating?
You mean money can solve everything?
As game players, they firmly believed that spending could make you stronger.
And spending for Xie Feiran’s banner had once generated two billion in revenue.
If the top-up was within their means, players could directly send Xie Feiran flying.
Whales instantly dropped over a million, boosting Xie Feiran’s stats to a level even cheaters couldn’t match.
The Xie Feiran Fan Club had to step in: Stop spending!
Please, everyone, just vote from now on—it’s free.
A few hours later, Tina Continent players asked: By the way, is there a paid service for voting?