Chapter 175

The Korean version of "The Big Person" was renamed "The Veteran" by Fang Hong!

That is, the Chinese version is still called "The Big Person," while the Korean version is called "The Veteran," which feels better psychologically.

It's said that "In the Name of the People" was originally titled "The Infiltrator," but after Bai Longwang renamed it "In the Name of the People," it became a hit.

This kind of thing is hard to say.

Fang Hong remained as busy as ever with his work, never showed his face, never gave interviews, as if he had vanished.

He had always been like this—just let you scold me, I'll do my own thing.

The game "Hero Glory" has been steadily progressing; its concurrent player count has now surpassed 200,000 and remains quite popular.

It's mainly been slowly expanding to internet cafes across the country.

Hardware requirements aren't high—the client removed many unnecessary features, simplified everything, and only retains PvP and the shop, making it look simple.

The shop only sells heroes and skins; nothing else is available.

The visuals are clean and simple, superior to competitors like "League of Legends."

Currently, "League of Legends"'s shop still sells runes—those Level 1, Level 2, Level 3 runes—with level restrictions, the highest being Level 30.

If your level is low, you're not even eligible for runes.

"Hero Glory" doesn't require this—no level cap, just customize your talents according to your needs, and there's a beginner tutorial.

Everyone starts on equal footing, no hierarchy.

It also maintains a fresh pace with a new hero released every ten days.

Many top players also release guides—what hero pairs with what talents, or how different playstyles can use different talents.

Also, the game doesn't ban players from using plugins to change skins; not only is it not banned, it's encouraged—though cracking down on cheats is absolutely mandatory, no matter the method.

Even so, it hasn't surpassed "League of Legends," whose concurrent players reach 400,000—twice that of "Hero Glory."

But Fang Hong wasn't in a hurry; he consistently emphasized putting players at the center, warning everyone not to slack off, to continuously optimize the gaming experience.

The core competitiveness is "Put Players First!" Fang Hong even had these six characters carved and hung on the most visible wall in the game department, requiring every game worker to swear an oath before morning meetings, facing those six words.

"Always stay flesh and blood with the players!"

It felt like a pyramid scheme.

Of course, this scene was filmed and posted on Bilibili, spreading among players.

It's hard not to suspect it's just for show.

But so what if it's for show—as long as it's more human than domestic studios, it's a victory.

Bilibili is currently developing live streaming services; this game can't afford to skip streaming—it's essential for a complete ecosystem.

Teams have already formed; this year is undoubtedly the chaotic birth year of domestic competitive gaming.

Riot is still in the exploratory phase, but Fang Hong directly copied their homework! As for Tencent, let's see if they can win just by lying down—they lack such forward-thinking vision; no one knows how competitive gaming will evolve, but their operational experience is just about making money.

There's simply a vacuum in the domestic market.

If Tencent operated as usual, Fang Hong could just lie back and win—he wouldn't care so much, because history has proven they don't treat players as human beings.

His true rival has always been Riot, who established the core of "League of Legends."

"Hero Glory" now has over 8 million overseas registered users, still growing—but it can't compare to "League of Legends," which has 20 million registered users.

A small company, and the opponent doesn't even take them seriously!

"The Big Person" is now in its propaganda phase, but hasn't pushed hard yet—only sent Zhang Songwen running around; the real push won't come until early December.

Its propaganda can't compete with "The Flowers of War" or "Dragon Gate."

The former is Lao Mouzi, the latter is Xu Laoguai paired with Li Lianjie and Young Master Zhou—all naturally radiating aura.

Besides, they've been hyping these films for years in advance.

"Four years of preparation, three years of training, five months of filming—finally ready to debut, you absolutely must watch!"

"The Legend of Hongmen Banquet" kicked off this year's New Year Slot.

But this launch wasn't loud—it was a slap in the face to investors, with only 9.12 million yuan on opening day.

About 3 million less than in the original timeline.

No way around it—Fang Hong's butterfly effect has shaken the current film industry's structure; the past few months of public opinion have been nothing but mutual insults and bickering.

It completely derailed the entire public heat.

But it's understandable that the film's box office was poor in the first two days; what's troubling is that the reputation didn't turn around as viewers increased—many audiences are now criticizing it.

"Stop desecrating history!"

"Pros: The soundtrack is incredibly powerful! Costumes and sets are extremely lavish, and the actors' performances are dazzling.

Cons: Too long! The first half puts you to sleep, the second half has you wondering when it'll end—and of course, it's not as good as Liu Tianxian's previous film!"

"No standout moments—the characters and plot are ridiculous; only plausible if viewed as fantasy."

"The overall atmosphere is decent, but Liu Tianxian is a red flag—I can't stand her lack of acting—go back to Principal's side! Even if he hits people, you can't sink this low!"

"It's hard to imagine how Liu Tianxian got nominated for Golden Horse Awards Zuijia Nüzhujiao—can anyone explain?"

"Aaaah, Liu Tianwang said she was pleasing to the eye at the Golden Horse Awards—he clearly wasn't talking about her acting."

"Every time she makes a good movie, she rewards herself with a terrible one."

"."

The post-release public opinion on the film hurt Liu Tianxian again—what hurt her even more was when someone asked Zeng: "What do you think of 'The Legend of Hongmen Banquet'?" She replied: "I only see one woman!"

Such an overt declaration of affection made her nearly break down. Others criticizing her acting was fine—she'd endured that before—but for Zeng to say that pushed her straight into the storm's eye.

The film's box office remained poor for days, hovering around ten million yuan, sometimes even falling below it; after "The Flowers of War," "Dragon Gate," and "The Big Person" were released, its chances vanished entirely.

This pushed Song Xiansheng of investor Xingguang to the brink—he quietly withdrew from the film industry and turned to hotels and real estate.

Good! Another one taken down! But the light is still good—he didn't hold a major stake anyway.

Actually, lifting up Liu Tianxian and then having her star in terrible films for other studios might really bankrupt every other film company.

It's possible—Yutu dominates alone!

Of course, Fang Hong only thought it—he'd be beaten to death if Liu Tianxian knew he thought that.

Now Liu Tianxian's promotion period is over; the movie has been out for a week, no need to promote anymore—good or bad, it is what it is.

"Treat every day as if it were the end, loving every second, beautiful enough to bring tears."

In a KTV private room, red and blue lights flashed dimly; Liu Tianxian held a microphone in one hand and a beer bottle in the other, singing with great energy.

Shuchang, Zhang Jingying, Meng Jia, Yao Beina, along with her classmates and friends, clapped and cheered from the sofas or beside her, some even shouting loudly.

The room was wildly noisy, everyone having a blast! Liu Tianxian felt stifled inside—the movie flopped and she was mocked, her good friend Zeng gave her trouble, trying to drag her into the same thing.

She suddenly spun around, her long hair flying, the beige shawl looking especially beautiful on her.

She strutted over to Fang Hong, who sat in the corner playing with his phone, and roughly plopped down beside him, took a sip of beer: "You sing the last line."

"Love even if you're dead, don't stop crying until you smile with joy." Fang Hong roared, his voice hoarse.

Zhang Jingying, Yao Beina, and others clapped their hands; seeing how intimate and familiar their actions were, they all covered their mouths and laughed loudly.

Although some didn't know Fang Hong, they knew his connection to Liu Tianxian—this circle had already spread far and wide.

Shuchang covered her ears; the howling was unbearable: "Your voice is really different from others!"

Fang Hong glanced at her but said nothing.

That comment meant he sang badly; even though it was said jokingly, the words were unpleasant.

"Pretty distinctive—rough! Wild!"

As Liu Tianxian sang the next two lines, she raised her beer bottle twice high, movements unrestrained, like a bold female knight.

"Principal, sing another rock song—it'd suit you well," Zhang Jingying suggested.

"Really?"

Liu Tianxian, energized, said to Fang Hong: "I'll give you a rock song—let you show off your voice."

"I won't show off in front of experts," Fang Hong declined.

"Principal, go ahead, give it a try," Zhang Jingying urged.

"Maybe not other songs, but when you roar, it's got real flavor—full of feeling," Yao Beina added.

Others smiled, or clinked beer bottles in pairs.

Fang Hong didn't want to sing in front of professionals—it'd be embarrassing!

"Are you scared?" Liu Tianxian goaded him.

Fang Hong snatched the microphone from her hand: "Since I was born, I don't even know how to write the word 'scared'! I'll sing so loud it'll scare you to death."

"Hahaha!"

Everyone in the room laughed without stopping, bending over with laughter.

Especially Liu Tianxian—she laughed so hard her gums showed, no image left, like a commoner.

"What song do you want? I'll pick it for you," Liu Tianxian walked to the song selection screen.

"Don't bother me!" Fang Hong pointed angrily, fully into character.

"Can you even do it?" Liu Tianxian was surprised.

This song was hard—Dou Wei's—very few singers dared to cover his songs, because no one could surpass him.

Hearing this, Fang Hong looked at her with a wounded expression.

"Hehehe, I picked it for you."

Liu Tianxian smiled awkwardly.

This man was sensitive about "can you do it"—she'd accidentally said it again.

Inside the room, a wildly energetic song began playing.

Fang Hong grabbed Liu Tianxian's collar, face fierce, singing into the microphone: "I don't want to say anything more to you—I'm angry now."

He roared convincingly, emotion fully delivered! Liu Tianxian wasn't scared—instead, she was swept up by the music, stepping to the beat, nodding her head rhythmically, hair flying wildly, like a madwoman.

Her girlfriend did the same beside her, swaying to the music; luckily, no one took off their clothes.

Everyone was fully "high"—no idol image left, no goddess facade.

"Don't bother me, don't make me sad—this is the new China, I don't want to say more."

(End of chapter)