Chapter 303: Watching Stream Edits, Paul’s Documentary [Bonus - ]

Chapter 303: Watching Stream Edits, Paul’s Documentary [Bonus Chapter]

"It makes sense that there is no news about the dungeon yet," Solomon muttered to himself, flipping through the channels. "It only collapsed this morning. The only people who actually know it was cleared are the ’Six Savers’ guild guards stationed at the barricade, and the guild obviously has not made that information public yet to avoid losing their grip on the real estate panic."

He leaned back on the couch. "Are they controlling the media narrative too?"

He then frowned, a spark of irritation hitting him. "What the hell is Paul doing? Did he even upload the expose video like I explicitly told him to?"

If Paul had uploaded the video and all the concrete evidence, there would have been at least one minor news channel or online blog talking about the corporate massacre by now. But there was absolutely zero coverage.

Solomon pulled out his laptop and opened the internet browser. He searched for the specific hashtags he had instructed Paul to use—#SoloMan, #LSA, and #LiveStreamingAcademy.

There were absolutely no recent videos regarding the financial company or the real estate conspiracy.

Instead, his search results were entirely flooded with clips of his own adventures from when he was streaming through the bronze owl. There were thousands of videos. Massive compilations showcased his fight with the undead paladin, his flawless execution of the Azure Crane Blade, and his brutal underground arena brawls.

The comment sections were wild. There were countless reaction videos from prominent internet personalities screaming at his screen, deep-dive tactical analysis videos breaking down his footwork, and even a few dedicated ’hate’ videos calling him an arrogant, reckless fraud who relied entirely on a carried holy relic.

Solomon clicked on the very first video that popped up on his feed. It was a heavily edited, slow-motion montage of him simply walking away from explosions, casually dodging sword strikes, and acting incredibly edgy with phonk music blasting in the background.

Solomon physically cringed, slamming the laptop shut halfway before opening it again. "Is this how celebrities feel when they are forced to watch their own movies? This is so incredibly embarrassing. Although, I am definitely not at that level yet."

He checked the primary network channel responsible for the highest-quality edits. The account was named ’SilverKnight_Chronicles’. He scrolled through the channel’s massive library of videos and muttered, "Every single video on this account is exclusively about me. Is this some kind of official, academy-affiliated promotional channel, or just the obsessive work of a really crazy, dedicated fan?"

’Let’s never have a fan meet, ever.’

Soon, the delicious aroma of roasted spices drifted from the kitchen. The maid girl returned to the living room, carrying two plates loaded with perfectly cooked food.

She served Solomon at the coffee table and stood back.

"Sit down and eat with me," Solomon instructed.

At first, she refused, maintaining her strict servant protocol. But Solomon stubbornly refused to take a single bite until she finally relented, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the couch to share the meal with him.

While they were eating, Solomon refreshed his internet browser. A brand new video had finally been uploaded under the designated hashtags.

It was Paul. The video featured the terrified clerk exposing absolutely everything, holding the original loan documents and the illegal real estate contracts up to the camera. The video was incredibly well-lit, neatly edited, and presented with professional graphics highlighting the criminal clauses.

Solomon raised an eyebrow, chewing his food. ’Did Paul seriously spend the entire day retaking his shots and professionally editing the video before uploading it?’ Solomon wondered, shaking his head. ’No wonder it took him so long.’

The uploaded video was one hour and thirty-two minutes long. Solomon only intended to skip through the timestamps to ensure the core evidence was presented clearly, since he already knew exactly what the conspiracy entailed. However, the pacing, the dramatic narration, the crisp audio mixing, and the seamless visual transitions were so incredibly well-made that Solomon found himself entirely hooked on the storytelling.

He ended up watching the entire documentary from start to finish.

"Did Paul actually edit this masterpiece himself, or did he outsource it to a professional production studio?" Solomon wondered aloud, closing the media player. "If Paul did this entirely on his own, he has a serious, undeniable knack for video production."

He refreshed the webpage to check the analytics. Since the video had been live for nearly two hours, the view count sat at 2,369. At first glance, that number seemed relatively low for a viral attempt, and the metric might not have even been entirely accurate, as many casual scrollers likely clicked on the video and immediately clicked off due to the long runtime.

However, retaining even a fraction of those clicks meant there were roughly two thousand people actively engaged with the content. In the streaming world, holding two thousand concurrent, dedicated viewers was considered a highly successful metric.

’It will probably hit ten thousand views by the evening,’ Solomon calculated, leaning back against the couch. ’The primary goal of this upload is just to expose the Six Savers guild to the local public. Even if their corporate lawyers manage to get the video deleted from the mainstream platforms or pull some other nasty legal move to suppress it, I am already prepared for the fallout.’

Solomon opened a new browser tab and navigated directly to the official Live Streaming Academy public forums. He wanted to check if the video had successfully infiltrated the academy’s ecosystem, since he had explicitly instructed Paul to utilize the LSA-specific hashtags.

’If, by some stroke of luck or algorithmic favor, the video managed to get featured on the main LSA discussion boards, it would spread like absolute wildfire.’

The LSA forums were populated entirely by hyper-active, dedicated viewers who obsessively consumed streams, lore, and dramatic videos. Those hardcore fans would immediately download the footage, clip the most damning segments, and share it relentlessly across their private groups, encrypted channels, and external servers.

They would debate the conspiracy on unaffiliated websites, ensuring the scandal kept spreading and people kept talking about it long after the original video was inevitably taken down.

Normally, an international, cross-dimensional audience would not care about a minor real estate conspiracy orchestrated by a mid-tier guild in a mundane city they didn’t even live in. It was entirely irrelevant to them.

However, because Paul had specifically tagged Solomon in the video, he had made it explicitly clear that the targeted evacuation zone was the district where the ’Solo Man’ lived.

Solomon realized the inherent danger of this strategy. He was basically doxing himself, revealing his general civilian location to the entire world. Although District Six was a massive, sprawling sector with tens of thousands of residents, making it difficult to pinpoint his exact address, it was still a calculated risk. But it was a necessary risk.

It was the only viable way to drag the Six Savers guild and their shadowy corporate affiliate, The BlueYorker’s Shield, into the unforgiving spotlight of the global network.

Solomon spent the remainder of the afternoon scrolling through the rapidly multiplying comment sections, checking various social media platforms, and monitoring the internet’s reaction to the explosive documentary.

Meanwhile, the maid girl had quietly retreated back upstairs to Solomon’s bedroom, resuming her position on the floor to continue watching the educational playlist on the glowing tablet.

As the evening approached, Solomon checked the clock. It was almost time for his parents and Jasmine to return home from the diner.

He closed his laptop and stood up. He walked upstairs, knocked on his bedroom door, and told the maid girl it was time to leave.

They slipped out the back door of the house just before the family returned, heading out into the twilight to meet the man of the hour, Paul.