Chapter 663

On November 24, amid much commotion, The Villain Angel and Tangrenjie Tangan were released as scheduled.

The former was from Guangxian, the latter from Yutu; indeed, Huayi's Mr. Six was completely crushed by the Principal.

Of course, this was the view within the industry; many netizens outside were unaware it was the Principal's doing, and even if they knew, no broad consensus formed—it all came down to the Campus Idol.

On its opening day, The Villain Angel broke 150 million yuan in box office; by contrast, Tangrenjie Tangan earned only 91.86 million, nearly 60 million less.

Guangxian was still impressive, but no one targeted them—right now, Huayi and Yutu were locked in their fiercest battle.

Yet after its release, The Villain Angel was savagely criticized by audiences as a dark-to-the-core trash film, the worst trash film ever made.

Deng Chao and his wife were vilified mercilessly; this wave severely damaged Deng Chao's reputation and his wife's too, directly ending her film career, leaving her with far less influence even when returning to television.

Some asked why he kept associating with Yu Baimei—who else would take him in?

He was already in a humiliating position: top directors couldn't afford him, and he didn't want them; top directors all had their own teams, and whether or not they hired him wasn't up to him.

To stay competitive, he had to become a director himself or find a way to bind himself to a director for collaboration.

Like Shen Teng had his circle; Chen Sicheng and Wang Baoqiang had their circles; Guo Fan and Lu Yang had their circles; Ning Hao and Xu Guangtou had their circles.

Tell me, which circle could accommodate Deng Chao?

The best performer in this New Year Slot was still Mojin: The Lost Legend, with 720 million yuan in box office over seven days.

Compared to his past life, this was about 200 million less.

This proved that despite being targeted, Yutu was still formidable—their films had high quality, compelling plots, and strong IPs; even under attack, public enthusiasm for cinema couldn't be stopped.

This was also Fang Hong's accumulated advantage over the years: he had the entire industrial chain and strong IPs, maximizing his independence from external forces.

Just as the film market remained prosperous, a shocking message exploded online.

"Secret marriage, illegitimate child! Three generations to restore the ancestral line!"

Zhu Yirong's scandal erupted instantly, leaving no time for reaction; the counterattack came swiftly.

The full report was detailed and specific: his wife was his college first love, they had been together for ten years, photos were attached, names were named—credibility was extremely high.

It also explained the reason for "three generations to restore the ancestral line": his grandfather was a son-in-law, meaning all children born after had to take the grandmother's surname.

But the Chinese are deeply attached to which surname children bear, so the custom arose that the third generation would revert to the father's surname.

Zhu Yirong was deeply distressed and immediately issued a statement calling it slander, urging everyone not to believe, spread, or create rumors.

But it was useless—the leaker claimed to be Zhu Yirong's "private fan," provided photos and names, and the credibility was very high.

Yet the statement only urged people not to believe rumors—it offered no explanation at all.

"I just finished reading it—I don't know whether I'm shocked by the illegitimate child or by the secret marriage."

"Why won't he just admit it? The child can't even answer when others ask who their father is—that's unbearable!"

"His wife's real name was exposed, even details about his grandfather were dug up—it's terrifying, far more sophisticated than tabloid tactics!"

"He's not young anymore; getting married and having kids is normal. But today's 'private fans' are truly terrifying."

Some defended Zhu Yirong, others expressed deep disappointment; fans abandoning him and turning against him put him at risk of total collapse.

Celebrities like him rely heavily on fans—without traffic, they have little value, and the scandal struck at the moral level.

Soon, Zhu Yirong's agent announced they would pursue legal action—that was the next chapter.

But everyone in the entertainment industry watched silently, no one spoke out—they knew Huayi was behind it, Alibaba was pulling the strings, and Weibo had it trending for 24 hours.

Now everyone in entertainment was waiting to see how things developed, no longer daring to underestimate the Principal or provoke Huayi.

Even those who had secretly competed for endorsements, appearances, and events—or even joined Huayi in criticizing the Principal—had all stopped.

This was no longer a game they could play; they had only slipped in because Huayi and the Principal were too occupied—just picking up scraps.

Remember, when the Principal doesn't act, he doesn't act—but when he does, he knocks Huanrui to the ground, waking many people up.

Now Huanrui was begging everyone for help—once the Campus Idol was gone, all resources and funding poured into him vanished into thin air.

Many film and TV projects suffered heavy losses—these were direct losses; indirect losses included brand sponsors demanding compensation.

Because most endorsements included "moral clauses," explicitly requiring artists to maintain a good public image—if not, they had to pay compensation.

In short, this round hit Huanrui hard—they were a major company too.

But on the other hand, with the Campus Idol gone and Zhu Yirong facing collapse, other artists in the entertainment industry naturally moved in to claim their share.

For example, Zhang Ruoyun, Jing Bairan, Lin Gengxin, and Chen Weiting—all these young male stars feasted greedily during this incident.

This was a whale's death nourishing myriad lives—a pie falling from the sky; when two giants fight, the fisherman profits.

But whoever wins, they must go pay homage—Zhang Xuefeng once said: "Stars are grandsons before their capital fathers!"

Of course, entertainment agencies and stars alike hoped they would fight forever, to the end of time—better if both died, so they could keep reaping benefits.

Fang Hong didn't care about Zhu Yirong's scandal—he bore it himself; if he couldn't handle this, what was he doing in this business? Go home and hold babies.

Of course, he didn't care whether the leak was true or false—none of that mattered.

He was waiting for Warner's news—Hollywood's news—Lao Zha had finally succumbed to temptation and actually wanted to swallow Huayi's money.

On December 25, according to the Hollywood Reporter: "Due to poor technical and narrative quality, Warner demanded Aquaman be reshot, increasing costs by $80 million; investor Huayi may be forced to inject additional funding."

Aquaman was Huayi's investment project, with a total of 600 million yuan poured into it.

The reason for the forced injection was a clear rule in Hollywood investments: when a project exceeds budget or requires reshooting, investors must contribute additional funds proportionally—or it's considered a breach.

If they breach, all prior investment is wiped out.

This was why Huayi kept pouring money in—without it, all previous investment vanished.

The $80 million additional cost might fall entirely on Huayi—the proportional rule was nonsense; effectively, it was 540 million yuan. If they didn't pay, their 600 million yuan was gone!

This was why Fang Hong, even knowing Hollywood films could be profitable, never collaborated with or invested in them—he had zero autonomy, and they were terrifyingly exploitative.

Playing with them, even absolute power was useless.

Alibaba invested in Hollywood's The BFG, Spielberg's film, and lost nearly $100 million.

Green Book was a huge hit, yet Alibaba received only a few hundred thousand dollars.

The reason was simple: under Hollywood's profit-sharing rules, the North American distributor recovers costs first—whatever remains is yours, Alibaba.

Most importantly, their revenue-sharing system was opaque; back then, Fang Hong didn't discuss details with you—box office earnings were split at a fixed ratio.

Tencent invested one billion U. S. dollars in Paramount, demanding cooperation on Transformers: Rise of the Beasts, yet failed to secure even a single IP development right.

One billion dollars, and they won't even give you development rights!

When cooperating with Warner on The Outcast, they didn't even prioritize streaming rights for Tencent; Tencent learned its lesson—better not make the film at all.

There are many more such traps—for example, bundling garbage projects: if you invest in one good IP, you must also invest in ten of their garbage projects.

There are too many such pits; let's not even mention Wanda.

Don't talk nonsense about Western businessmen having contractual integrity—that's just some traitor blowing smoke.

Fang Hong never trusted these Hollywood giants; he limited cooperation strictly and never engaged in full-scale partnerships.

Warner demanded a reshoot of Aquaman and specifically required Huayi to contribute another eighty million U. S. dollars; the news quickly spread back home.

Caixin Network was the first to report this: "Warner demands a reshoot of Aquaman; Huayi may bear 540 million yuan in reshoot costs."

Soon after, Toutiao pushed the story with even more detail: "If Huayi doesn't increase its investment, its previous 600 million yuan investment will be lost!"

At once, Sohu, Tencent, Sina, and other portals, along with financial media, reported the news.

The news immediately hit the stock market, causing Huayi's share price to plummet straight down, collapsing again.

From a previous market cap of nearly 40 billion yuan, it plunged directly to around 24 billion yuan, hitting another daily trading limit, wiping out roughly 16 billion yuan.

Not as severe as the last time, but perfectly normal—the last collapse was inflated; Huayi still had real value now, and the matter wasn't settled yet.

It all depends on how Huayi responds—stock markets react first by falling, regardless of whether ordinary people know Warner's true nature; institutional investors and capital firms know it well.

The Wang brothers have no say at all; right now, they're overwhelmed, because Huayi's plunge has breached their margin call line—financial institutions have gone mad and are storming in to demand repayment.

They'll be forced to sell the stocks they pledged as collateral; if that happens, the two brothers could lose control entirely.

"Brilliant! Brilliant!" Lao Wang Zong clapped twice, praising the Principal's ruthlessness.

He pushed Huayi right to the edge of collapse.

Even though no media mentioned the Principal or Yutu—as if they had nothing to do with it—it was clearly the Principal's doing.

Not only did he think so; the entire entertainment industry thought so—how could it be such a coincidence? Not before, not after, but exactly now?

Clearly, the Principal and Warner had conspired to swallow Huayi's money; otherwise, how could it be so perfectly timed?

Lao Wang Zong told his son Xiao Wang: "Just a little more—had the Principal applied one more push, Huayi would've collapsed completely."

"Is Huayi that fragile?" Xiao Wang asked, puzzled.

"Huayi isn't fragile—it's those two brothers who've drained their own reserves over the years. The Principal merely chose the perfect moment." Lao Wang Zong said.

Huayi couldn't possibly be fragile; even if I tried, I couldn't take it down—I'd only make trouble for myself, impose restrictions, and even then, major moves would require years of planning.

After all, they're still the number one film and TV stock, with considerable influence.

One must admire the Principal—he's actually managed to knock down a leading enterprise.

"The Principal isn't that impressive—just lucky. Fundamentally, Huayi was already weak. If Huayi hadn't made so many strategic errors, how could the Principal crush it so easily? In the end, it's just those two brothers who are stupid," Xiao Wang said with clear disdain.

"You have a point, but you're underestimating the Principal—he's extremely capable," Lao Wang Zong partially agreed with his son but warned him not to underestimate the Principal.

Someone who's planned this long and accumulated so many cards couldn't have done it in one or two years—he started plotting years ago.

"A man who marries a celebrity? I don't believe he's that impressive," Xiao Wang said arrogantly, looking down his nose.

Xiao Wang truly had reason to be arrogant now—he was extremely successful at this time, with Pusi Capital, Panda Live, and Banana Game Media covering the entire e-sports industry chain; his entertainment empire was taking shape.

After investing in Hero Interactive, its valuation once surged to 20 billion yuan, allowing him to cash out 132 million yuan.

Few people his age had achieved such success.

The Principal's move had sent shockwaves through the entertainment industry—everyone felt that if Huayi failed to handle Warner's demands and its debt, it was truly headed for collapse.

Six hundred million yuan, plus another 540 million yuan from Huayi—that's 1.14 billion yuan total. No one knew if the movie would make money, but it was clearly a trap; Warner's reputation was terrible—why trust them?

All they could do now was wait and watch, avoid taking sides, refrain from speaking ill of anyone, and stay silent.

"Huayi might be doomed this time," Wang Changtian seemed to sense the arrival of a new era in entertainment.

"Will Huayi really collapse?" Li Xiaoping asked.

"I don't know—wait and see. Even if it survives, it'll be badly wounded," Wang Changtian didn't know what other moves the Principal had up his sleeve—if not, then that was it.

Li Xiaoping's expression turned serious; she still remembered the young man who once came to her with a script seeking investment—now he was trying to destroy a leading enterprise.

She simply couldn't reconcile that young man in her memory with the current Principal.

"We should keep our distance from this man from now on," Wang Changtian was afraid of him.

Fortunately, he had wisely chosen to stay far away from the Principal back then—if not, he'd have been targeted too.

He was overthinking it—Fang Hong had never intended to target him; he didn't go around attacking everyone.

(End of Chapter)