Chapter 498

Now that Honor of Kings is just starting out and the operation is being scaled up, promotion and marketing are all about throwing money around—don't even think about making a profit yet.

The game does generate revenue, but that revenue needs to be reinvested—operations, optimization, development, all require money.

In today's internet age, a game can quickly gain popularity, and many games rise and fall rapidly, harvesting profits like cutting grass.

So it's nothing like the old MMO days, where early word-of-mouth mattered.

Time passed quickly; Xiu Chun Dao has finished its theatrical run, with a total box office of around 277 million yuan.

This box office is decent, but Lu Yang isn't satisfied—he spent so much on promotion, and Chen Zhixi personally oversaw it, yet the returns are this low, making him feel it wasn't worth it.

He called Fang Hong, his tone filled with apology, essentially saying this movie had flopped.

But Fang Hong didn't care; he comforted him: "This box office is already excellent—just a few years ago, any film crossing 100 million was cause for celebration; how is this result low?"

This question left Lu Yang speechless.

Indeed, just a few years ago, only blockbusters could cross 100 million; now, after only a few years, do people think 100 million is worthless?

Has human nature changed, or has the market changed?

"Just focus on shooting your next film well—your movie was a success; don't overthink it." Fang Hong said, then hung up.

Later, a director whose film earned hundreds of millions would still play the victim and apologize, drawing online ridicule: "Hundreds of millions is still low?"

Film people seem to have forgotten the era when a movie could be made for just a few million or tens of millions.

If a film doesn't cross 100 million, it's considered a failure, a flop—where did this mindset come from? Even audiences, netizens, and media believe it.

Look, that movie only made two or three hundred million—it flopped!

Actually, it didn't flop—it definitely made money; it's just a question of how much. Remember, there's also copyright revenue to collect.

Lu Yang felt somewhat comforted and stopped overthinking, focusing instead on finishing the films he currently had.

The Nun was released on September 7 in 3,728 North American theaters, simultaneously in 38 countries and 60 markets worldwide—Warner is still formidable.

In Latin America, the opening weekend gross was $27.5 million, with Mexico opening at $10.7 million, capturing 87% market share; Brazil opened at $6.8 million, capturing 68% market share.

This film set Warner's highest-ever opening weekend record for a horror film in the Americas.

In Asia, the opening weekend gross was $24 million, with Indonesia opening at $7.7 million; India at $5.2 million; Malaysia at $2.8 million; Philippines at $2.5 million.

It ranked as the third-highest opening weekend in regional history; Southeast Asia already had a solid horror audience base.

Our horror films also have a strong market there—Hong Kong used to produce many horror films sold to these regions, and they were quite popular.

Moreover, cultural similarities exist in these regions—though we all know what that means.

In Europe and the Middle East, the opening weekend gross was $22 million, with the UK opening at $5.2 million; Spain at $3.3 million; Germany at $2.7 million; Australia at $2.7 million, the second-highest horror opening in its history.

This horror film set multiple opening weekend records globally.

Across 60 overseas markets, the opening weekend gross totaled $77.5 million, setting the highest-ever opening record for The Conjuring Universe in any overseas market at the same time.

In its first three days in North America, it earned $53.5 million, unquestionably claiming the North American weekend box office championship.

Global opening weekend box office totaled $131 million.

It topped the charts in 54 markets and set new horror opening records in 19 markets.

This performance can be called a massive hit, especially given the low investment and its status as an IP movie.

This made Universal's Donna extremely envious, but there was nothing she could do—it was The Conjuring Series, and only Warner could distribute it.

This was an agreement Fang Hong had signed with them previously.

Warner's CEO Zhasilafu called Fang Hong, warmly offering his condolences.

Last time was a letter, years ago; only now, this year, did he remember to call—how pragmatic.

You must deliver results before others take you seriously; without results, they won't even bother to acknowledge you.

In film distribution, Warner is more powerful than Universal—they have the Harry Potter Series and the Batman Series.

Disney has Marvel; Warner has DC!

Of course, in music, Universal is more powerful than Warner—each has its strengths.

On the phone, Fang Hong couldn't understand what Zhasilafu was babbling about, but Liu Tianxian was right there.

She translated: "He says, 'Dear Fang, long time no see, I've missed you deeply. Through our long cooperation, we've built a trustful friendship. To commemorate this friendship, I've bought you a Chinese painting from the United States.'"

After speaking, Liu Tianxian playfully pinched Fang Hong's cheek and teased: "Your friend sent you a painting."

"Be serious—how can you touch a man's face like that? So disrespectful," Fang Hong said sternly.

"I'll touch if I want to," Liu Tianxian said, pinching his cheek again, clearly delighted, utterly unbothered.

Fang Hong sighed and said: "Reply to him: 'Thank you very much, Mr. Zhasilafu, for your kindness. For the sake of our friendship, I accept it.'"

Whatever the Chinese painting is, if it's a gift, why refuse? With his status, he must have sent something good!

"His name is Zhasilafu," Liu Tianxian corrected him—he'd left out a syllable.

"Who cares what he's called—just reply like that," Fang Hong said indifferently; he had no interest in this "friendship."

Friendship exists only when money is involved; without profit, who cares?

Liu Tianxian pressed the desk phone button and began translating: "Thank you, Mr. Zhasilafu, for your generous gesture."

"It's nothing," Zhasilafu said. "Isn't this also to wish our cooperation continues smoothly?"

Liu Tianxian translated; Fang Hong then said: "Of course. I have a favor to ask—could you help me out, Mr. Zhasilafu?"

"What favor?" Zhasilafu asked.

"We have a film company called Huayi—you've probably heard of it. I'd like to teach it a lesson," Fang Hong said. Liu Tianxian glanced at him in surprise but translated anyway.

"Huayi?" Zhasilafu repeated the two characters, as if searching his memory.

"Yes, Huayi—a top-tier film company here. I'd like you to launch a major film project to tie up Huayi's capital," Fang Hong said.

Warner would propose a massive blockbuster project, then approach Huayi: "Let me take you global?"

How could Huayi not be tempted?

Today's Chinese investors and film companies are extremely interested in Hollywood and the global market.

Even after being scammed countless times, he still finds it endlessly enjoyable.

Fang Hong still remembered past grudges; if he didn't reclaim his dignity and bring this company to its knees, he'd have lived his life in vain.

Hua Yi must collapse under his hands—not fade away naturally—that's the record he wants.

"I can help you with this," Zhasilafu said, raising a series of questions. "But I don't know how far you intend to go. A film project is fine, but whether to actually produce it, whether to release it, and what if it loses money afterward—do you cover the losses?"

A film project is no problem, but when they hand over the money, will you shoot the film? If you don't, it's fraud.

After shooting, if Warner loses money on the release, what then? Production costs money; cooperation is mutual.

"I'm just curious—how did you manage to screw up Harry Potter?" Fang Hong shot back.

They managed to lose money on Harry Potter despite global box office earnings of over a billion dollars—swallowing up Hua Yi would be child's play.

Just release any big blockbuster, or a DC superhero movie—it doesn't matter what the film is, as long as it's a blockbuster, even a trash film will do.

Just find Hua Yi saying they want the Chinese market, propose cooperation, and lure Hua Yi into investing.

After the film releases, cook the books to show it lost money, claim no profit was made, and deny Hua Yi any share— isn't that basic procedure? Is it really that complicated?

Liu Tianxian translated it gently; the man spoke somewhat harshly.

"Hahaha."

Zhasilafu chuckled and said, "That kind of trick is known worldwide now—everyone's on guard. If you think Hua Yi is stupid, I can try it for you, but I can't guarantee they'll bite."

The implication was: he doubted the other side would fall for it.

This made Fang Hong fall into thought.

Indeed, when he first approached Warner, he'd been wary of this very tactic. If Warner approached Hua Yi, Hua Yi would likely be wary too—none of them are fools.

"He's right," Liu Tianxian said beside him.

Everyone knows this—so the partnership terms will surely include safeguards. To trap their funds, you need entirely new methods.

"You guys play this game a lot—any good suggestions?" Fang Hong said. Liu Tianxian translated it.

"Yes, but as I just said, it depends on how far you want to go. When we cooperate, will you shoot the film? If the box office flops, who covers the losses? All these issues must be considered." Zhasilafu was meticulous.

In plain terms, he didn't want to lose money. If release is involved, you must account for production costs and release losses—will the Principal cover them?

The real meaning was simple: scamming isn't as easy as it seems.

"My demand is simple: use the simplest method to lock up their large sum of money, and ideally, don't shoot the film at all," Fang Hong said. He didn't want to cover losses or lose money himself.

"If that's the case, it's simple—we propose the film project, seek their cooperation, trick them into handing over the funds, then use every excuse imaginable to avoid shooting. This process may involve endless bickering and lawsuits," Zhasilafu said.

"Then bicker! You're such a big player—bickering with them is bullying them," Fang Hong said.

This made Zhasilafu smile. Indeed, whether through bickering or lawsuits, they'd be bullying Hua Yi.

Actually, shooting the film would be best—then let it lose money at release. Poor box office? No one says a word; Hua Yi can only swallow it.

But that brings up production and marketing costs—Warner won't want to pay for that.

Fang Hong certainly didn't want to fill that hole either.

So bickering is the simplest way: hold their money, claim you're not refusing to shoot, just preparing—making a film isn't that easy.

Just keep dragging it out. The money won't be returned.

"You need to trap them for as much money as possible—make them bleed," Fang Hong said, fearing too little would fail to hurt Hua Yi.

"We can only try our best," Zhasilafu said. "But you must understand—the money is still legally theirs."

As long as no film production occurs, even if they play dirty, the law still applies.

"I understand," Fang Hong said. "First, delay their funds—make them feel the pain. That's all I want. Lao Zha, I'm counting on you."

If Hua Yi still won't behave, he'd just chip in a bit himself—pretend to produce the film. After release, how much it loses doesn't matter—he can afford it.

If Hua Yi behaves, make them call him Dad.

Liu Tianxian gave him a look of disbelief—just moments ago he was calling him "Zhasilafu," now he was calling him "Lao Zha."

Still, she translated his address properly, calling him Mr. Zhasilafu.

"OK! OK!" Lao Zha was willing to help—who else could help him make money? He'd earned a lot these past few years.

And to them, this was a minor matter.

After their chat ended, Liu Tianxian asked: "What do you plan to do?"

"Make Hua Yi call you Mom!" Fang Hong patted her cheek.

(End of Chapter)