Qin Feng's declaration at the Thunder Championship awards ceremony was like a flash of lightning piercing the night sky, instantly illuminating the esports landscape in the hearts of countless league of legends players. The phrase "Million Dollar Prize, National Championship" was not just a competition announcement; it was a powerful declaration that elevated the game's social recognition and player engagement to an unprecedented new height.
The official promotional video for the National City Hero Championship, subsequently released with stirring music and passionate editing, was carpet-bombed across major video websites, social media platforms, and the game client's homepage. The promotional video not only featured highlights of top players' brilliant plays but also interspersed scenes from previous internet cafe tournaments: players' tense and focused expressions, excited embraces after victory, and the thunderous cheers from the audience. Finally, the glittering "1,000,000 RMB" grand prize money and the nationwide map of competition venues delivered the ultimate visual and emotional impact.
The technology, sports, and even financial sections of mainstream media began to report on this event with significant coverage.
"Game or Competition? league of legends' Million Dollar Tournament Sparks Heated Discussion!"
"New Era of Esports: Grassroots Players Can Also Pursue Million-Dollar Dreams!"
"Phenomenal Game league of legends Builds National Tournament System, Commercialization Accelerates!"
These reports were no longer confined to the self-entertainment of the gaming community but propelled the concept of "esports" into the broader public eye with an unprecedented positive image. Many people who originally held prejudices against games, under the impact of weighty terms like "Million Dollar Prize" and "National Tournament," began to try to understand and pay attention to this emerging field.
Within the player community, Qin Feng's actions had an even more direct and intense impact. It was like a giant magnet, strongly attracting and bringing together players scattered across the country who harbored the same dream.
An unprecedented "nationwide search for teammates" craze kicked off with great fanfare.
The traffic in the official forum's "Team Recruitment Zone" grew exponentially, with dozens of new posts refreshing every minute.
The titles were varied but all conveyed the same urgency and desire:
"[Magic City Looking for Team] diamond 2 main jungler, deep hero pool, seeking a dream-chasing team to rush the National Tournament!"
"[Mountain City Looking for Teammates] Local Platinum top/support dual position, stable availability, good communication skills, looking for reliable brothers!"
"[University Team Recruiting] 'Lingyun Team' currently lacks a strong ADC and support, offline training on campus, goal is to qualify for the Provincial Tournament!"
"[Elderly Casual Team (Not Really)] Average age 25+, office workers, stable evenings and weekends, Platinum rank, seeking like-minded individuals to enjoy the competition process and go as far as possible!"
Post content was no longer just about reporting rank and position; many began to describe their playstyle, available heroes, online hours, and even expectations for team atmosphere in detail. They were no longer satisfied with fleeting online encounters and preferred to find "real" teammates in the same city or school who could conduct offline training and competitions.
Major league of legends-themed QQ groups, WeChat groups, and voice chat platforms (like YY) completely transformed into talent markets. Group owners and administrators had to temporarily set up dedicated recruitment sub-channels or publish announcement formats to cope with the explosive information flow.
"Report position, rank, city, private message for match history screenshots!"
"XX City offline training team, lacking a command-oriented mid-laner, requires diamond or above, competitive experience preferred!"
"Are there any female support players? Our bot lane AD is super strong, we'll carry you!"
Player-made "seeking teammates" memes and creative posters also began to spread virally online. Memes like "My ADC is super stable, just need a support who can block skills for me" and "Jungle King will carry you, just don't feed in lane" emerged endlessly, reflecting the players' urgent desire to form teams while also providing entertainment.
This trend even spread offline. Hand-drawn or printed recruitment posters appeared on university notice boards and dormitory buildings; in frequently visited internet cafes, familiar managers would actively connect regulars: "Hey, Li Hao, aren't you a jungler? There's a guy playing mid-lane over there who's also looking for a team, why don't you two chat?"
Behind every ID was an eager soul. Players who once could only solo queue in ranked or play casually with a few fixed friends were now given a grand common goal—to represent their city and advance to the National Tournament. This goal imbued the act of team formation with a sense of ritual and mission.
In a dormitory at a university in the south, Li Hao looked at the detailed schedule and list of competition venues released by the officials and excitedly told the members of the "Dawn" team: "Brothers, do you see? Our city has a competition venue! National Tournament, here we come! This time, we must go further than last time!"
In the private room of the Thunder Internet Cafe, where the "Vanguard" team frequently gathered, Han Feng placed a printed copy of the tournament rules on the table, his gaze sweeping over his teammates: "The city championship is just the beginning. Next, there are the regional tournaments, and then the National Finals. One million isn't the finish line, but a yardstick to prove our worth. Our training must intensify!"
Countless teams like "Dawn" and "Vanguard" were born, reformed, or strengthened in this nationwide craze. They utilized all their spare time from classes and work to engage in more systematic and arduous training. They researched strong heroes of the current patch, practiced specific tactical systems, honed team coordination, and analyzed potential opponents... Every night in Summoners Rift, lights burned brightly, echoing with the sound of countless keyboards clicking and tactical discussions from those fighting for their dreams.
Qin Feng stood in the data monitoring center at Riot Games headquarters, looking at the violently surging active data, user stickiness, and the almost explosive discussion fervor on forums and communities that followed the tournament announcement. A profound smile appeared on his face.
He knew that this "National Championship" fire, personally ignited by him, had successfully transformed league of legends from a phenomenal game into a more cohesive, passionate, and dream-carrying esports platform for a generation of young people.
The players' enthusiasm had been completely ignited, and the path to the National Tournament was already laid out. Next would be the brutal yet glorious knockout stage, truly testing strength, will, and teamwork. The storm was coming.