EWN CH3

To the employees of the company, the second-largest shareholder, Shen Qinghan, was a figure shrouded in mystery.

That was because everything she wore, carried, or drove were things that ordinary people couldn’t afford even after working several lifetimes.

She had casually invested 30 million Federation Coins, without any hesitation.

After the investment, she didn’t involve herself at all in the project’s development and gave full authority to Zhao Ming to manage everything.

This was the kind of investor that countless people dreamed of having.

But now that such a big incident had happened…

The front desk girl sighed internally—perhaps even President Shen couldn’t do anything now. After all, the time was too short.

There were only nine days left until the Anti-War Competition began.

What could be made in nine days?

A match-three puzzle game, maybe?

Shen Qinghan frowned slightly upon hearing the front desk’s words.
“I understand.”

She then looked in the direction of Zhao Ming’s office. The whole thing had happened so suddenly—Shen Qinghan knew that this investment was most likely going down the drain.

To her, 30 million Federation Coins wasn’t a big deal. What she worried about was whether Zhao Ming could handle the pressure.

In this era, there was no such thing as a “technology gap.”

As long as you had enough money to throw into the Photon Supercomputing Cluster, you could create any kind of game, effect, or detail you wanted.

For example, the game Cyber Blue Star: 2077, with her investment—aside from server rental—had only used 50 million Federation Coins for game development.

In contrast, the Emperor Penguin Group had plagiarized the idea for Ruined Future: 2100, and just their basic investment was 500 million Federation Coins. The leaked details and visuals from that game… even Shen Qinghan had to admit—

It was far superior to their own game.

In that situation, launching the game would just invite public backlash.
The Emperor Penguin Group, being a cross-Federation mega-corporation, could easily drag them down and destroy them.

But…

If Zhao Ming couldn’t handle this kind of setback… then so be it.
She decided to check the situation first before drawing any conclusions.

Shen Qinghan raised her leg and walked toward Zhao Ming’s office.

She knocked on the door.

From inside came Zhao Ming’s voice:
“Come in.”

He didn’t sound broken at all—in fact, he sounded quite normal.

That allowed many employees outside the office to breathe a sigh of relief.

As long as the boss is still alive, it’s all good.

Only Hao Wen, the employee in charge of core game narrative design, had a flicker of emotion in his eyes.

He listened with growing suspicion.

Why did Zhao Ming sound like nothing was wrong?

Could it be that there was some hidden trump card or a possible turnaround that Zhao Ming hadn’t revealed?

Even Shen Qinghan, standing outside the door, was somewhat surprised.

This…

He really sounded like he was totally fine?

Shen Qinghan pushed the door open and walked in.
Other employees glanced over toward the office, especially the anxious Hao Wen, who caught a glimpse of Zhao Ming operating something on his computer.

Then the door shut, cutting off all sight and sound.

That made Hao Wen feel even more uneasy for some reason.

—

Inside the office.

Zhao Ming, sitting in the executive chair, took his eyes off the screen and looked up at the person who had entered.

What came into view was Shen Qinghan’s cold, expressionless face.

Memories about Shen Qinghan suddenly surfaced in Zhao Ming’s mind.

Shen Qinghan.

She had been the student council president at his university.

Two years ahead of Zhao Ming.

Rumors said she came from a mysterious family background—no one really knew the specifics—but money was clearly not a problem for her.

Even back in college, there were whispers of her investing in students’ projects.
Some were small amounts; others were significant.

The original Zhao Ming had only approached Shen Qinghan for investment after running the numbers and realizing he was way too short on funds.

What he hadn’t expected was just how smooth and easy the process had been.

After presenting the concept and highlights of Cyber Blue Star: 2077, Shen Qinghan had readily agreed to invest 30 million Federation Coins.

Up until yesterday, everything had been going smoothly…

When he saw Shen Qinghan enter, Zhao Ming stood up and gestured for her to sit on the sofa:

“Senior.”

This was, after all, a golden investor, not someone to treat casually.

Besides…

Half of the lost money was hers.

Just thinking about that made Zhao Ming’s teeth ache.

He walked over and sat down. Pressing a button on the coffee table, a built-in device began operating, offering both hot and cold beverages on demand.

Soon, two cups of coffee rose from inside the table.

Shen Qinghan nodded slightly, glanced around, then looked directly at Zhao Ming:

“I was worried you wouldn’t be able to handle the blow.”

“Looks like I was overthinking.”

In this era, being copied by a mega-corporation and ending up bankrupt was common. But there was nothing you could do. They just did it better, and threw more money at the problem.

Even if you wanted the players to speak out for you, they might not be willing…

How many startup founders had committed suicide because of this?

But seeing how relaxed Zhao Ming looked now, Shen Qinghan finally felt reassured.
Still curious, she asked:

“You really don’t look like someone who’s been crushed.”

“Does Cyber Blue Star: 2077 have some hidden gameplay feature that the Emperor Penguin Group didn’t copy?”

Besides some kind of trump card, she couldn’t imagine what else would make Zhao Ming so calm.

However—

Zhao Ming shook his head and shrugged casually:

“Nope.”

“Cyber Blue Star: 2077 is done for. We can’t beat Emperor Penguin with it.”

“Fortunately, we still hold the copyright.”

“They got their start from the Anti-War Competition, and after so many years, they haven’t made anything new—just kept copying others to profit.”

“We can’t do anything to them now, but when the opportunity comes…
I’m taking them down.”

Shen Qinghan’s mouth twitched slightly, and she rolled her eyes.

Shen Qinghan rolled her eyes hard at Zhao Ming.

Plenty of people had tried to bring down Emperor Penguin Group, but none had succeeded in all these years.

“Enough of that—just tell me what your plan is now.”

“I invested 30 million, remember?”

“What are you going to do about it?”

Zhao Ming’s expression stiffened. He gave a couple of light coughs.

“Senior…”

“You’re not really short of that 30 million, right?”

Shen Qinghan’s face remained completely blank. She said nothing and simply stared at him.

Under that gaze, Zhao Ming quickly surrendered.

“Alright, alright, I’ve already come up with a solution.”

He had originally just wanted to joke around, but this woman was way too cold.

Who could stand marrying someone like her?

Tsk…

Zhao Ming then began to explain:

“I thought about Cyber Blue Star: 2077 carefully. It definitely has the potential to grab attention—maybe even win an award.”

“But the problem is, games with novelty—they come out every year.”

“Players get tired of them quickly.”

“In the end, it’s aesthetic fatigue. If we want to break the mold, we have to bring something truly different to this world.”

“The Anti-War Competition has been held for so many years, and the original purpose has already been forgotten.”

“The point of the Anti-War Competition is obviously… anti-war.”

“So how do you promote anti-war sentiment?”

“By letting players experience the brutality of war themselves.”

“That’s the direction I’ve decided to pursue.”

“I’m going to develop a multiplayer online competitive shooting game.”

Zhao Ming spoke with conviction.

The response? An awkward silence.

Shen Qinghan stared at him, completely speechless.

…

…

After a long pause:

“That’s it?”

Zhao Ming blinked and nodded:

“Yeah. Isn’t that enough?”

Make a game like a WWII movie, where players experience what it’s like to be cannon fodder—watching the guy next to you get his head blown off, blood splattering all over you, guts spilling out from a giant hole in your stomach, crawling on the ground…

In that situation, who would still look forward to war?

A tic visibly pulsed on Shen Qinghan’s forehead. She clenched her fist and couldn’t help shouting:

“That ridiculous idea—people already stopped doing that 200 years ago!”

“These days, they use computing power to build entire virtual worlds. Mechas, interstellar fleets, even virtual mythological realms with budgets in the billions of Federation Coins.”

“Who the hell still plays old-school shooting games?”

Zhao Ming finally realized what she was thinking, and calmly explained:

“It’s not the same. Mechas, starships, myths… besides interstellar fleets, most of those things are pure fiction. Even the mecha gameplay isn’t suitable for real combat.”

“No one in their right mind would try to recreate that stuff.”

“Yes, our society has developed high technology, but security and law enforcement still rely on soldiers and firearms.”

“The game I’m making is designed to give players the most realistic experience possible.”

“Something they’ve never felt before.”

Hearing that, Shen Qinghan was so angry she actually laughed.

“A gunfight game? And you think you can make that exciting?”

“The Anti-War Competition has been held for 300 years.”

“Shooting games were already overplayed in the first hundred years.”

“What could you possibly offer that players haven’t already experienced?”

“Going retro?”

Zhao Ming shook his head.

“No.”

He looked straight into Shen Qinghan’s eyes.
For some reason, she felt a sudden chill in her heart as Zhao Ming’s lips curled into a subtle smile:

“It’s war.”

War?!

Those two words struck Shen Qinghan’s mind like a hammer.

Promoting war in the Anti-War Competition?!

How dare he?!