From American Internet Celebrity to God Among Men

47: Chapter 47 Pulse and EchoTwelve days remain until the release of ”Neon Pulse.”

Alex sat at the mixing console in Taylor’s studio, the seventh version of the song’s mix playing on a loop in his headphones. The producer, Karl, stood behind him, his fingers sliding rapidly across the mixing board.

”The low end is still too full,” Alex said, taking off one side of his headphones. ”The kick drum and the bass are fighting at the 2:15 mark. Try cutting the bass by 3dB at 80Hz.”

Karl raised an eyebrow at him but followed the instruction. He replayed the section—sure enough, the sound was much clearer.

”You’ve got sharp ears,” Karl muttered. ”Did you study mixing before?”

”Listen enough and you’ll know where the problems are,” Alex replied, putting his headphones back on. This was the truth, but it was also the combined effect of Deep Focus, information integration, and pattern recognition.

Taylor pushed the door open and entered, holding a tablet. ”The Spotify editors replied. They’re willing to consider a recommendation spot for ’Neon Pulse’ in the ’New Discoveries’ column, but they need to see the full work and listener data first.”

Marcus followed behind her, his expression pragmatic. ”This is standard procedure. They’re cautious with independent newcomers, especially since you don’t have label backing. But Taylor’s personal recommendation carries a lot of weight.”

Alex nodded. This was a reasonable industry response—cautious, wait-and-see, and not willing to grant top-tier resources just because of a trailer.

”What about the platform pre-save data?” he asked.

Marcus pulled up a spreadsheet. ”Average so far. Eight thousand on Spotify, five thousand on Apple Music, and three thousand on YouTube Music. Roughly sixteen thousand in total.”

”For a newcomer’s independent release, that’s already quite good,” Taylor said. ”But it’s still far from the ’viral hit’ benchmark.”

Alex was satisfied with these numbers. This felt real—though his main channel had over seven hundred thousand subscribers, those were fans of his tutorials and visual content. Music was a brand-new field; he needed to build a listener base from scratch.

Sixteen thousand pre-saves meant at least that many people were attracted by the trailer and were willing to give a ’vlogger turned musician’ a chance.

The rest would depend on the work itself.

---

Returning to the safe house in the afternoon, Hank brought a new surveillance report.

”They’ve become more active,” Hank said, pointing at the timeline on his tablet. ”Over the past three days, that SUV has appeared near your former residence five times, and each stay is getting longer. Last night, someone even tried to approach Taylor’s studio but was intercepted by our men.”

”Intercepted? Was there a conflict?”

”No. They were professional; they retreated as soon as they saw people on guard,” Hank said with a serious expression. ”But it’s a signal—they’re testing our defensive perimeter.”

Alex looked at the surveillance footage. The stinging sensation of Crisis Prediction was intensifying, but it hadn’t reached a dangerous level yet.

”We need to be careful on release day,” he said. ”If I were them, I’d cause interference at the critical moment the work goes live.”

”What do you plan to do?”

”Two plans,” Alex said, pulling up his schedule. ”First, reduce offline activities. On release day, I’ll only do a live stream from the safe house. Second...” He paused. ”Prepare some counter-materials. If they go too far, we’ll leak them.”

Hank nodded. ”Wise. But what about the small release party at Taylor’s place? She’s invited some important people.”

”The party goes on as planned, but I won’t be there in person,” Alex said. ”I’ll participate via video link. Safety first.”

---

Seven days before the release, Alex updated his main YouTube channel with an in-depth creative vlog.

This video didn’t showcase flashy shots; instead, it focused on the struggles of creation: the process of playing the synthesizer to find the right tone, the scratch paper filled with repeated lyric revisions, and even a clip where he got stuck halfway through singing and frustratedly ruffled his hair.

At the end of the video, he spoke candidly to the camera: ”The biggest difference between making music and making videos is—you can hide in a video, but you can’t hide in music. Every note exposes who you are. It’s terrifying, but also... very real.”

This sense of ’imperfect’ authenticity triggered a strong resonance. The video surpassed eight hundred thousand views within 24 hours, and the sentiment in the comments section was warm:

”So even the Great God gets stuck!”

”This draft revision process is too real; that’s exactly how I write my papers.”

”Just for this honesty, I’m definitely listening on release day.”

Real, vulnerable, hardworking—these keywords spread across social media. Alex’s ’persona’ subtly shifted from ’genius creator’ to ’hardworking genius,’ the latter clearly being more relatable.

Marcus called: ”Smart. You’re lowering expectations, so as long as the work meets the quality standard, it will exceed expectations.”

”It’s not a strategy,” Alex said. ”It’s the truth. This is just how creation is.”

At least that part was the truth.

---

Five days before the release, the platform data began to climb slowly.

Spotify pre-saves broke twelve thousand, Apple Music reached nine thousand, and YouTube Music hit five thousand. A total of twenty-six thousand. The growth mainly came from new attention brought by the creative vlog.

At the same time, Alex began receiving inquiry emails from music vloggers. Most were small-scale creators wanting to collaborate on reaction videos after the premiere. He selected a few whose styles fit and agreed to provide the audio—it was a win-win; the vloggers needed content, and he needed exposure.

There was only one exception: a blog calling itself ”Nashville Music Observer” sent an email, demanding exclusive premiere rights in an arrogant tone and implying that ”otherwise, there might not be positive reviews.”

Alex checked the blog’s background. The registration info was vague, but IP tracking showed it originated from Washington D.C.—Winston’s territory.

He didn’t reply, simply forwarding the email to Hank and Attorney Li Zhiming.

”A probe,” Hank cleared up that afternoon. ”Behind that blog is a political PR firm, a long-term partner of Winston’s.”

”So they’ve started using industry tactics,” Alex said, not at all surprised. ”Courtesy before force. First ’invite,’ then pressure, and now threatening negative reviews.”

”Should we fight back?”

”Not for now,” Alex said. ”But save all the evidence. If they actually launch a media attack after the release, we’ll have a reason to hit back.”

---

Three days before the release, Alex finished all preparations.

The song’s master was finalized, the music video was complete, and the promotional materials were ready. He set up scheduled releases across all platforms: August 13th, Friday, at 12:00 PM (Eastern Time).

That night, he sat at his workstation in the safe house, checking the system one last time.

His Popularity points sat at 490,000. The warm-up over the past week had brought steady growth, but it was still far from the breakthrough he wanted.

He needed ”Neon Pulse” to succeed, to enter more people’s playlists, and to generate buzz.

Calling up the ability exchange list, he browsed the options that were still out of reach. Comprehensive Physical Enhancement (Intermediate) required 1.8 million, Environmental Perception Enhancement (Intermediate) required 1.2 million... all were unattainable.

But one ability caught his eye:

【Creative Energy Resonance (Basic)】: Slightly increases the emotional impact of a work, making it easier for the work to resonate with listeners. Exchange requires 550,000 Popularity points.

The description was vague, but the term ”emotional impact” struck a chord with him. In the end, what moved people about music wasn’t technique, but emotion. If this ability could help his work touch even just 1% more listeners, it could be the key to success.

But he only had 490,000, still 60,000 short.

”Let’s take a gamble,” he said to himself.

He didn’t exchange it; instead, he decided to wait. If his Popularity broke 550,000 after the release, he would immediately exchange for this ability—even if it might be too late for ”Neon Pulse” itself, it would help with subsequent works.

---

Two days before the release, Winston’s side made a new move.

This time it wasn’t a phone call, but a formal legal letter sent via courier to Taylor’s studio. The letter came from the ”Nashville Arts Ethics Committee”—an organization that sounded official but was actually a private institution.

The content of the letter alleged that Alex’s ”Neon Pulse” ”might infringe upon the creative rights of local musicians” and demanded he provide full records of the creative process and proof of inspiration sources; otherwise, they would ”initiate an industry review process.”

Taylor’s face went pale with anger when she saw the letter. ”This is blatant harassment! This committee has no legal authority whatsoever!”

”But they have influence over public opinion,” Marcus analyzed calmly. ”If they make a public accusation, even if it’s eventually proven to be a frame-up, it will leave a stain within the industry.”

After reading the letter, Alex actually laughed. ”They’re getting desperate.”

”What do you mean?”

”If they really had solid evidence, they would have gone public long ago. Sending a letter like this shows they haven’t found any actual dirt and can only rely on intimidation.” Alex took a photo of the letter. ”Attorney Li, does a letter like this require a formal response?”

[part:gemini-3.1-flash-lite]

Attorney Li Zhiming replied on the other end of the phone, ”We do. But we can respond firmly—pointing out that they have no right to demand this information, and we reserve the right to pursue legal action for defamation.”

”Then let’s do that,” Alex said, ”And... make our response public. Post it on my social media.”

”You want to make it public?” Taylor was surprised.

”Sunlight is the best disinfectant,” Alex said, ”Let everyone see what kind of ’industry censorship’ an independent creator faces before releasing their work.”

That night, Alex posted photos of the letter and his brief response on Twitter and Instagram:

”As an independent creator, I have always respected everyone’s creative rights. My lawyer will provide a formal response to this inquiry from the ’Committee.’ But what I want to say is—creation should be a free act. If proving that you ’did not plagiarize’ becomes a prerequisite for releasing work, does this industry even have a future? #NeonPulse August 13th, arriving as scheduled.”

This tweet spread rapidly within the music creator community. Many independent musicians left comments sharing similar experiences, and ”Creative Freedom” became a trending hashtag.

The Winston side probably didn’t expect him to counterattack publicly, and for a while, there was no movement.

But the stinging sensation of Crisis Prediction grew stronger.

The day before the release, August 12th.

Alex spent the entire day in the safe house, making final preparations. He tested the streaming equipment and planned the timeline for tomorrow:

· 11:30-11:50 Pre-release livestream, chatting about the creative process.

· 12:00 Official release, playing the full song.

· 12:10-13:00 Reading comments in real-time, answering questions.

· 20:00 Video link-up with Taylor’s release party.

Simple, but fulfilling.

At four in the afternoon, he received an unexpected call—it was Lena, his classmate in Los Angeles.

”Alex, I saw what happened online.” Lena’s voice sounded very worried, ”That so-called Committee... are you okay?”

”I’m fine.” Alex was a bit surprised, ”How did you know?”

”Derek was bragging on his social feed, saying his father is ’cleaning up industry trash’.” Lena lowered her voice, ”He also said... tomorrow he will make you look really bad. You need to be careful.”

Alex was silent for a few seconds: ”Thank you for telling me, Lena.”

”I just... I think this is unfair.” Lena said, ”You worked so hard to get to this point. Is there anything I can do?”

”Keep keeping an eye on things at school for me.” Alex said, ”And, stay safe. Don’t let Derek know you tipped me off.”

After hanging up, Alex felt a touch of warmth. In this world full of schemes, there was still pure kindness.

In the evening, Hank brought the final security briefing.

”We will reinforce all aspects tomorrow.” Hank said, ”There are six people at the studio and four here at the safe house. All your network lines have backups to prevent interference.”

”What about the Winston side?”

”Unusually quiet.” Hank frowned, ”Logically, tomorrow is their last chance. But apart from that letter, there have been no new moves.”

”Maybe they are preparing something bigger.” Alex said, ”Or... they are waiting for me to make a mistake.”

That night, Alex rested early. He lay in bed, letting Crisis Prediction fully expand, sensing every subtle movement around him.

The safe house was very quiet, with only the low hum of the air conditioner.

But his intuition told him that the calm before the storm is often the longest.

Release day, August 13th.

Alex woke up at six in the morning. He did a simple morning workout, ate breakfast, and then sat at his workstation.

He opened his computer and first checked the pre-save data across platforms:

· Spotify: 18,327 times.

· Apple Music: 11,452 times.

· YouTube Music: 8,915 times.

· Other platforms: approximately 7,000 times.

A total of about 45,000. It had more than doubled from a week ago, but it was still a ”promising but uncertain” number.

He opened the system interface. The popularity number was stuck at 510,000—last night’s public counterattack brought some growth, but it was still a distance from 550,000.

At ten in the morning, he started preparing for the livestream.

At 11:30, the livestream began.

The camera turned on, and Alex appeared on screen. The background was the minimalist workspace of the safe house, with the visual poster for ”Neon Pulse” on the wall.

”Hello everyone, I am Alex.” He smiled at the camera, looking slightly more nervous than usual—this was real, ”In half an hour, ’Neon Pulse’ will be live. To be honest, my heart is beating very fast right now.”

The number of viewers for the livestream quickly rose to three thousand, then five thousand, eight thousand. The comment section began to scroll:

”Go for it!”

”Followed you here from your tutorial videos, looking forward to it!”

”Don’t be nervous, the work will speak for itself.”

Alex read a few comments and answered some questions about the creative process. The atmosphere was relaxed and warm.

At 11:50, he started the countdown.

”Ten minutes left. I want to say...” He paused, ”No matter how this song performs, I am grateful for this process. Creation allowed me to find light in the darkness, and I hope this song can give you a little light too.”

The comments were scrolling even faster.

Countdown: five minutes.

Three minutes.

One minute.

Alex took a deep breath and switched to the backend interface of each platform. All platforms displayed ”Releasing Soon.”

”Ten, nine, eight...”

The comment section began to countdown in sync.

”Three, two, one—release!”

He clicked the confirm button.

Almost simultaneously, the status on all platforms changed from ”Releasing Soon” to ”Live.”

”Now, I want to listen to this song with everyone.” Alex said, ”This is the first time I’m listening to it in its entirety in public. Let’s do it together.”

He pressed the play button.

The intro to ”Neon Pulse” began to play on the livestream.

The synthesizer arpeggios pulsed like a heartbeat, the drums entered solidly, and then his voice:

Heartbeat like a pulse, in this midnight city...

The number of livestream viewers broke through twenty thousand. The comment section went quiet for a moment—many people were listening intently to the song.

Three minutes and forty-two seconds later, the song ended.

Alex looked at the camera, unable to speak for a moment. This was the first time he had fully experienced this song as a listener.

The comment section exploded:

”Oh my god...”

”This is even better than the trailer!”

”That chorus melody is looping in my head!”

”Added to playlist!”

The number of livestream viewers surged to thirty thousand.

Alex took a deep breath: ”Thank you. Really... thank you for listening.”

Just then, his phone vibrated. It was a message from Marcus, with only three words:

”The data is going crazy.”

Alex switched to the backend data panel.

Spotify: Five minutes after release, real-time play count 8,327.

Apple Music: Five minutes after release, real-time play count 5,112.

YouTube Music: Five minutes after release, real-time play count 3,845.

This was just the beginning.

More importantly, the ”Save to Playlist” ratio for the song was extremely high—over 40% of listeners on Spotify clicked save after finishing it. This meant they weren’t just listening casually; they really liked it.

”What about the sentiment in the comments?” Alex asked Marcus.

”Almost entirely positive. A few music critics have already tweeted,” Marcus replied, ”Taylor played this song at the party, and it’s said that the whole room listened in silence, and then broke into applause.”

Alex leaned back in his chair, feeling a strange sense of calm.

Success.

At least, the first battle was won.

He returned to the livestream camera and continued to interact with the audience. The number of viewers stabilized at over thirty thousand, and the comments were scrolling too fast to read.

An hour later, he ended the livestream.

Then he sat alone in the dark room and summoned the system interface.

The popularity number began to jump crazily.

520,000... 530,000... 540,000...

The moment it broke through 550,000, he did not hesitate and redeemed [Creative Energy Resonance (Beginner)].

A gentle warm current spread from deep within his brain, not knowledge, not a skill, but a more subtle ”sense of tuning”—as if the wavelength of his creation, the channel resonating with this world, had been calibrated to be slightly more precise.

He looked out the window. The midday sun in Nashville was bright.

The pulse of ”Neon Pulse” had been sent out.

And the Echo was returning.

But before the Echo fully arrived, he knew there was still another battle to fight.

Winston would not give up easily.

And he was already prepared.