Lin Fan advanced in first place with 38 points! The moment it ended, the news swept the entire internet.
Across sites big and small, the keywords were everywhere:
"CN qualifier semifinals," "Tu Bro," "first place in group," "advanced!"
The news that Lin Fan would represent Douyu in the Teamfight Tactics TOC3 China qualifiers had been teased for over a month.
Even non-fans had heard something.
Let alone fans.
So the moment they saw the headline on platforms, they immediately understood what had happened.
"Holy crap? First in semifinals group and into finals? Are you kidding?"
"I watched Group A's lineup two nights ago. Back then I thought it was 'steady'—not steady for Tu Bro to qualify, but steady for him to get eliminated… so he could focus on MSI. Now I see I was wrong."
"Good heavens! I was wrong in the most ridiculous way. I didn't predict the process or the ending. Group A was stacked—two global champions in it—and Tu Bro still carved his way out?"
"He's an 'accident-type' player! Damn it, I declare the best chess-playing pro is Dine!"
"Then we can also say the TFT player who plays League best is Tu Bro…"
"Hahaha, Shen Chao might've refused to admit it before, but now he has to."
In less than ten minutes after qualification, discussion posts covered all of Weibo.
Mainly because nobody expected Lin Fan to advance in first place—
And with such a deluxe scoreline too:
Four firsts, plus one third.
38 points total.
He beat second place, Annihilation, by 9 points.
You didn't need more than that to see the gap.
In other words, the other seven were really fighting over second place.
Anyone who watched the matches felt it was even crazier.
Especially because in Games One and Two, Tu Bro was targeted.
While he was building his comps, the other seven held units here and there.
In Game One especially—Volibear was completely scooped up.
And under those circumstances, he still dared to force a roll-down.
Chasing the last Volibear…
Even Shen Chao admitted he couldn't match that courage.
Shen Chao was a steady player, and steady to an absurd degree.
To him, "having points" was enough—fourth place might as well be first.
Honestly, that kind of style had no show value.
And in tournaments it was also hard to place highly.
So it was normal that such a cautious guy admired Lin Fan's decision.
If there was someone closer to a gambler, Red Lotus would fit.
Whether climbing ladder or playing tournaments, Red Lotus always chased wins through risk—that was his style.
But the current meta wasn't the same as before.
Back then you had Conqueror Mordekaiser and the Dark Quicksilver package.
A one-star Mordekaiser could stabilize, and a two-star Mordekaiser could take first.
At the time, Red Lotus was the strongest tactician.
But now, without a "Mordekaiser locks HP" comp that powerful, once you choose to lose-streak, low HP means no margin for error.
Honestly, that's fatal—especially in tournaments.
Just like Lin Fan's Game Two.
He seized the last possible window between combats and hit three-star Nidalee at maximum speed, stabilizing instantly.
Compared to Shen Chao and the others, he was one round faster—so he lost one fewer round of HP.
Later, even if he lost, he still had plenty of room to maneuver.
He didn't panic.
Everything was planned.
So Nidalee's first place looked like luck on the surface, but it was all calculated.
Especially that "three-star Nidalee in 25 seconds" clip—people treated it like a classic.
It looked simple, but it tested hand speed, eyesight, and—most importantly—decision-making.
When you see a pile of Gnars, Swains, or Elises, you want to hold them for Shapeshifter.
But that wastes time.
If you can't prioritize, you lose the critical timing.
Once three-star Nidalee comes out, it means you stabilize.
Then you have plenty of time to look for those other pieces.
But if three-star Nidalee doesn't come, even if you make Shapeshifter, you still bleed HP like crazy.
Many people clipped that moment and posted it on short-video apps.
A flood of likes and comments followed.
And naturally, more people realized the TFT semifinals were already over.
They immediately rushed to Lin Fan's stream.
Different audiences—some people knew Lin Fan had a match during this time, but they didn't care about TFT and were just scrolling short videos.
Now that the result was out, they hurried over for whatever came next.
Starting at five, with the schedule, five games finished and it was only 9:30.
It was prime night-life time.
There were tons of options: queue Goose Goose Duck with Xiao Zao and the others, go to war in Infinite Borders, or log into Genshin Impact to spend stamina.
All of those were great choices.
Of course, first he needed to spend stamina in Infinite Borders—clear stamina, sort troops, get everything ready.
Lin Fan planned to go nomad after this week.
His alliance couldn't hold anymore.
Facing the pressure of two major alliances, even with home-ground advantage, they were collapsing.
Qingzhou marched in over long distances, and Yizhou was eyeing them like a tiger.
The funniest part was watching allies flip-flop repeatedly.
But Qingzhou, holding absolute advantage, didn't even take Xuzhou's clown show seriously.
Two days ago, they even tore off the mask:
If your returning group is confident enough to stir up the whole map, then go all-out and try to take down the Conquest Alliance.
So even though Qingzhou pushed in, they didn't fully commit.
They kept their focus on Xuzhou, planning to wipe a state first before handling Lin Fan's side properly.
The moment Lin Fan logged in, he received a private message from the alliance leader.
Mysterious as ever:
"You can still play without going nomad."
Seeing those six words, Lin Fan understood immediately.
Jingzhou and Qingzhou had already negotiated a deal.
Most likely, they were splitting three "Partition" placements plus a few "Conquests."
The goal was stability—avoid creating too many nomad armies.
Those returning nomads couldn't even field two full squads.
With that little threat, they could maybe steal a Partition, but pushing down a Conquest was impossible.
The returning group's leadership understood that too.
So they spammed World chat, urging everyone to go nomad together.
There was nothing under the mountain.
Better to go nomad and gamble.
Earn rewards with your own Merit Points.
Better than being "assigned" leftovers—no one should eat alms.
The phrasing was pretty good, but the effect was terrible.
After all that, hardly anyone was willing to go nomad with him.
No one was stupid.
Nomads earn rewards through Merit Points, sure—but first you need to seize a Capital.
The situation was unclear.
Qingzhou had a massive lead.
And with too few nomads, there was basically no chance.
Lin Fan might actually manage to "mix in" a Conquest if he stayed under the mountain.
But being a nomad was more comfortable.
And they'd already agreed: after taking today's gold, they'd go nomad.
Lin Fan's lineups were finally complete too.
Level 50 max-red Dudu, Cleaver, Zhao Wudi, Wei Zhi, Steel Plate.
Five teams online—going nomad would feel great.
If the enemy fed him, he could even see if he could hit ten million Merit Points.
Ten million sounded like a lot, but for nomads it was actually achievable.
Back when he was smurfing, he once hit over two million Merit Points in a week.
Season total was eleven million.
That nomad season was pure bliss.
In S2, everyone's card pools were shallower—maybe he could replicate it.
So he politely declined the alliance leader's request to stay.
Conquest or not didn't matter.
As long as you spend enough money, you'll naturally have the cards you should have…
That's why he kept being a League pro—so he could have "gacha freedom."
Honestly, buying a max-red account feels completely different from pulling a max-red account yourself.
That sense of accomplishment is hard to explain.
If you had to describe it, it's like adopting someone else's child versus having your own.
He went out to test the strength of his level 50 Dudu.
And damn… max level just felt good.
Easy 1v3, and he still returned with 23,000 troops.
In this situation, as a nomad, the only thing limiting his output would be stamina.
Watching the level 50 max-red Dudu slaughter, countless viewers' eyes went wide.
"Damn… is this what a whale looks like? Eating EXP books every day?"
"No way. Full level in just twenty-something days?"
"Farm books daily. If you pull a 3 million EXP book, it's massive profit. If not, it doesn't hurt much."
"Tu Bro goes out to fight every day too—another huge chunk of EXP."
"But this speed is still insane."
"It's actually normal. If you grind and eat EXP books, you can hit 48 or 49 by the time you go nomad. With Tu Bro's grind, 50 feels normal."
"This is just pure slaughter. S2 max-level max-red Dudu—who can withstand that?"
Lin Fan's Dudu recruited troops on the spot.
Then his Cleaver squad rushed forward.
The enemy didn't hesitate—everyone ran.
They knew that fighting this kind of account without high-red/max-red on your side was just feeding.
To avoid being locked into six or seven hours of recruiting, running was the best choice.
Sometimes running is shameful, but it works.
"Damn, I can't even catch them? Why are they running so fast?" Lin Fan rubbed his nose awkwardly, then instantly turned around to keep going.
And the exact same script happened again.
They all ran again.
"What the hell!"
Whiff once, whiff twice—what is this?
Seeing it, a bunch of viewers started laughing.
"Hahaha, I think I found Tu Bro's lifeline: the moment he whiffs."
"I'm dying. Tu Bro can accept any ending—he just can't accept whiffing."
"As a fellow Infinite Borders player, I can say my rage is rising. The immersion is insane."
"Seriously, I can accept getting one-shot, but I can't accept not touching anything…"
"At this pace, won't Tu Bro just never find anyone to fight?"
"Hey? Isn't that good? If he keeps whiffing, he'll lose interest and focus on matches."
"Holy crap, you're a genius!"
Sure enough, three consecutive whiffs—only air.
Lin Fan's expression changed subtly.
No more than three.
One last chance.
Cleaver moved fast.
Three and a half minutes passed.
Lin Fan's face went dark.
He moved his mouse to the X in the corner and closed Infinite Borders.
"???"
"I have a bold idea—any whales want to test this?"
"Brothers, issue a bounty: dodge Tu Bro's attack once and you get 1 yuan. I swear within a week Tu Bro will quit Infinite Borders."
"That's too small-minded. I'll offer 5 yuan. In three days he quits."
"The stronger the player, the more they fear having no one to beat up. Devs, are you seeing this? Don't treat F2P and casuals like they don't matter. Once they quit, whales quitting is just a matter of time."
"Hahaha, I replayed it in my head and I still didn't expect it to actually happen."
"Seeing Tu Bro quit in frustration—this is a good start!"
Chat kept flying. It felt like quitting Infinite Borders was only days away.
Time to celebrate!
Lin Fan, still with a dark face, opened Fall Guys.
Honestly, when you're in a bad mood, Fall Guys is great.
One mistake and the pressure shoots up—people just go rigid and drop on the floor.
Then you contemplate how to decompress—clean and final.
But Lin Fan didn't need to think about that.
His reactions were fast enough.
His controls were clean enough.
So he cleared rounds easily.
He eliminated a huge number of players along the way, and in the final stage he secured first place.
The clunky bean looked insanely agile in his hands.
He played two rounds in a row—two easy first places.
The pressure vanished. A smile returned.
Viewers were stunned.
Were they even playing the same game?
Why did Tu Bro make it look so easy? First place whenever he wanted?
That was weird.
Had the game become easier recently?
People watched a bit more and their hands started itching.
Fall Guys had been popular when it first launched.
But there were too few maps, plus overloaded servers—getting disconnected was common, and the experience got worse and worse.
Eventually fewer people played.
And domestic players share a habit: if you haven't played a game in a long time, when you come back you can't find the feeling, so you quit again.
So Fall Guys daily active users kept dropping.
But today, lots of people saw it again on Lin Fan's stream.
And with so many new maps, they suddenly felt the itch.
They logged in and queued up.
But once they played, they realized they were idiots—getting shoved off by obstacles, failing jumps, missing platforms.
Blood pressure rose with every match… yet the more they played, the more they wanted to keep playing.
Even the Fall Guys company, checking DAUs as usual, was shocked.
Compared to before, users were up by thirty percent.
Their heads buzzed.
What the hell happened lately?
TL: Lin Fan happened, that's what XD
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