EWN CH5

The police and medical personnel arrived quickly, along with the two reporters sent by Shen Qinghan.

Very soon, a news article shot up to the trending list:

[Breaking: Empire Penguin’s New Game “Ruins of the Future: 2100” Accused of Plagiarism—Original Developer Beats the Mole Bloody]

Attached was a photo of a man covered in mosaic, but it was still clear he was a bloodied adult male.

The news quickly reached the top of the Federation’s largest news site, Federation Headlines.

Below, the comments section exploded:

【66666, I knew it! Those Empire Penguin bastards are at it again.】

【Empire Penguin plagiarizing again?】

【What do you mean again? Did they ever stop?】

【Not gonna lie, that boss has some balls—beating up the mole like that.】

【LMAO, what’s the point of beating someone up? If your skills suck, they just suck. You waste great ideas. Let Empire Penguin do it instead—their production is way better.】

【Nowadays, it’s the computing power era. Whoever has the money can make the best games. Why not let Empire Penguin handle it? They throw real money into development.】

【Exactly. I’d rather play a polished product than some janky budget game that needs constant updates. Just go straight to the final version, right?】

【LOL, how much is this spin per post? Can someone get me in on that gig?】

【I’ll spin your ********】

Netizens kept firing shots at each other.
The online environment was no better than Earth’s—maybe even worse.
After all, in this new energy era, people were too free—free enough to start cheering for war.

---

That Night – Tiansha Live

As the largest game streaming platform in the Daxia Federation and the only one with broadcasting rights for “Anti-War Competition,” Tiansha Live was the go-to for gamers.

Suddenly, the stream of veteran shooter game host Mo Xiaomo lit up.

On screen appeared a cheerful, energetic young girl dressed in a police cosplay outfit:

“Hello hello, everyone, good evening~”
“Welcome to Mo Xiaomo’s stream~”
“Time for another conquest~”
“Tonight we’re playing Ruins of the Future: 2100! This game is participating in the Anti-War Competition. But thanks to some hustling by your girl here, I snagged an early-access slot~”
“Hahahaha, are you hyped or what~?”

As soon as she spoke, her stream chat exploded:

【6666—Look at you calling yourself a big streamer now, huh?】
【You got access? That’s weird, I saw others streaming it today too.】
【Ugh, another Empire Penguin knock-off.】
【Stop playing it—this game is stolen. The original dev might sue!】
【Yeah, we’re boycotting Empire Penguin!】
【Didn’t you read the news? It’s on the front page. This is the stolen game!】
【What a way to ruin your rep…】

Instead of excitement, the barrage was full of backlash.
Even her usual fans were drowned out by angry viewers.
Mo Xiaomo was clearly thrown off. She looked at the chat and said:

“Uhhh… hang on a sec.”
“Let me look into this.”

She quickly stood up and turned to her worried assistant:

“What’s going on? This game’s stolen?”
“Why didn’t we hear about this before?”

Her assistant flipped through the news, equally confused:

“I don’t know either. This only broke out this afternoon.”
“And the original developer—Pole Star Games—hasn’t made an official statement yet.”
“Right now, public opinion is totally against Empire Penguin, saying the dev beat up a traitor who leaked the game.”
“Maybe… just stream it anyway? I mean, Empire Penguin has done this before, and the original devs always end up going bankrupt.”

Mo Xiaomo frowned deeply:

“No.”
“If we’re gonna stream it, definitely not now. Let others go first—see how the public reacts.”

The assistant sighed:

“But… we already got paid. Won’t we offend them?”

Mo Xiaomo glared at her:

“They breached the contract first by stealing! We’re not going down with them.”

“I’ll handle the fallout.”

The assistant nodded and went to contact Empire Penguin.

Meanwhile, Mo Xiaomo returned to her camera and addressed the chat:

“Sorry, guys.”
“I had no idea. My assistant just filled me in.”
“We’re not streaming that game today.”
“Let’s find something else fun to play instead.”

With the Anti-War Competition drawing close, all developers were ramping up promotions.
According to the rules, no one was allowed to start marketing early, especially big companies that could instantly wipe out indie studios.
Violators would be disqualified—only the ten days leading up to the event allowed marketing.

Now the chat blew up again:

【Go to Pole Star’s site! You’ll see it’s a total ripoff.】
【That dev’s finished. Bankruptcy incoming.】
【LMAO, love to see it.】
【Empire Penguin being garbage again… not that they ever weren’t.】

Mo Xiaomo couldn’t help but smile helplessly.
The flaming was endless. But this did mean there was a ton of buzz.
She spoke up:

“Alright, as requested by the audience…”
“Let’s check out Pole Star Games’ official site~”

She typed into the search bar and clicked the top result.

A cinematic CG trailer filled the screen.

A distant view of Blue Star as a desolate ruin.
The city was plunged in darkness. Humans were fused with machines—pure dystopian sci-fi vibes.
The aesthetic was intense.

Mo Xiaomo clicked her tongue in amazement.

“Damn…
That’s a straight-up copy.”

She had done her homework on Ruins of the Future: 2100,
and this CG on Pole Star’s site? Almost identical.
Empire Penguin’s version just had prettier graphics—that’s always been their playbook.

But seriously?
They didn’t even bother to hide the plagiarism…

Even the transition timing and camera angles in the CG were nearly identical.
Mo Xiaomo silently mourned for the boss of Polaris Company—getting copied by Emperor Penguin like that… just accept the bad luck.

Suddenly—

The CG that was playing on Polaris Game Company’s official website disappeared. Mo Xiaomo was a little surprised:
“Huh?”

“Why’s the video gone?”

She refreshed the page a couple of times, but still nothing.

Her eyes moved elsewhere, and she noticed that the top promotion for Cyber Blue Star: 2077 had been moved to second place.

The first spot had been replaced by World War II: Rise of the Empire.

Her curiosity was immediately piqued:
“Eh—”

“That title? Sounds interesting?”

“Is it a new game?”

“Polaris Company moves fast… already found a replacement?”

She clicked it twice, but it wouldn’t open.

Still, her curiosity was already hooked.

The livestream chat was buzzing:

“Whoa? Empire? That’s such an ancient term.”

“Empire represents conquest and slaughter—it doesn’t align with the current federal ideology. Is the boss of Polaris Game Company asking to be arrested?”

“Don’t tell me Polaris is run by a war-crazed maniac?”

“I think he just lost it out of rage—completely gave up.”

“Wait, you guys aren’t seeing the real issue?”

“Why is it World War II? Where’s World War I?”

“Yeah, what happened to the first one?”

“Damn, now I’m curious too!”

“Polaris is planning something big.”

“Watching live to see if the Polaris boss gets arrested, hahaha!”

In the livestream room, curiosity kept snowballing. Whether it was World War II or Rise of the Empire, both left the audience itching with anticipation. But there was nothing they could do—Polaris wasn’t releasing any updates.

The situation with the Polaris website quickly spread, and countless netizens started visiting to check it out.

The topic soared to the top of the Federation’s trending news.

Meanwhile—

Zhao Ming, the man who had the entire internet scratching their heads—

Was in his office fiddling with a virtual headset.

Thanks to an afternoon of buzz, many people had learned about his company, providing a surge of emotional value. Zhao Ming used it to exchange for a clip of The Normandy Landing, and then rendered it using the computing power purchased from a photon supercomputing cluster.

Now, he had already turned that scene into a VR game, linked it with the headset, and was ready to test it.

Relying on the memories in his mind, Zhao Ming put on the headset and pressed the button.

The screen went dark. When it lit up again—

He found himself on a landing craft.

An endless ocean stretched before him.

Warships and landing boats were all around, and planes roared overhead toward a distant island.

The air buzzed with the thunder of the landing craft’s engine.

This was the opening scene of The Normandy Landing, exactly as he remembered it. If he hadn’t known it was a virtual game, Zhao Ming would have thought he’d time-traveled again.

This virtual headset was that advanced?!

Completely immersive.

Couldn’t this mean that every movie on Earth could be turned into a game?

This was a feeling you’d never experience on Earth.

The rocking of the landing boat, the crashing waves, the cramped press of soldiers, and the salty sea breeze—it all felt incredibly real. Zhao Ming pinched his arm, and while the pain was duller than real life, it was still there:
“Damn—”

“This is something else.”

And this was just with the headset. From his memory, the full-body virtual sensory pod could simulate things with 100% realism.

Thinking of that—

Zhao Ming’s expression turned a little strange. If the simulation was truly 100%, did that mean pain would be, too?

Tch.

Better include a warning for the sensory pod version.

Otherwise someone might seriously get hurt.

Just as he was thinking that, a sudden shrill whistle blasted in his ears.

Toot————
Toot————

“All units! Form two lines! Avoid the craters!”

“Prepare to land!”

“May the Lord bless you!”

As the command ended, the steel ramp at the front of the landing craft dropped.

Zhao Ming snapped back to reality. He remembered what came next in the scene. Seeing that ramp drop sent chills down his spine:
“Sh*t!!”

He wanted to dodge to the side, and had just lifted his foot when—

A burst of heavy machine gun fire raked through the air.

The four or five NPC soldiers in front of him were instantly mowed down, their flesh and blood flying. And right after that, it was Zhao Ming’s turn.

BANG!
The headset was “blown off,” a chilling sensation spreading from his forehead to the back of his skull.

His body was riddled with machine gun fire, like popcorn popping.

Before he could exit the game, the screen went black.

Back in the office—

Zhao Ming, wearing the VR headset, suddenly shivered and ripped it off, his heart pounding wildly:
“Holy crap, this is too real!”

“No way I’m testing it again.”

“Better let the players suffer instead.”

(End of Chapter)