EWN CH8

Shen Qinghan’s eyebrows twitched uncontrollably.

She looked at Zhao Ming, who acted like everything he did was for the players’ benefit.

If she hadn’t played the game herself, she might’ve believed his nonsense.

But… she had to admit.

This kind of outrageous gameplay had never appeared on Blue Star before—it would definitely attract a massive player base.

Especially because it stirred a strong sense of competitiveness in players.

Even she had gotten so angry, she played it all morning.

Only to die over and over without a single win.

Still, she could already imagine how many players would be cursing Zhao Ming once the game was released.

Shen Qinghan stopped dwelling on it and spoke up:

“Well, it’s your game. As long as you know what you’re doing.”

“But—”

“This ‘Normandy Landing’ scenario… Can the players actually win?”

“What are the conditions?”

Zhao Ming stroked his chin and replied:

“The conditions, hmm…”

“As long as players cooperate well and survive 20 minutes on the beach.”

“Reinforcements will arrive afterward.”

“Planes will bomb half of the machine gun nests on the beach. As long as enough players survive to that point and they’re able to take out the remaining imperial defenders, the mission is considered a victory.”

“Simple, right?”

Simple?

Shen Qinghan was speechless.

With the difficulty he set, half the players would be dead before they even got off the landing boat.

What’s simple about that?

She shook her head, then asked:

“Are there any other missions?”

“This one’s way too hard.”

“I want to try something else.”

According to the game’s background story…

This game clearly wasn’t limited to one battle. If “Normandy Landing” was this difficult, it must be due to the setting. Surely not all battles would be that insane?

Zhao Ming paused, then shrugged helplessly and said:

“Nope.”

“Just this one for now. It took me all night to make this scenario and set the rules.”

“In the next few days, I’ll continue optimizing this mission and see if there are any bugs.”

“More content and missions depend on how well it performs after release.”

“This mission is difficult enough to torture—ahem—challenge players for a while.”

It wasn’t that Zhao Ming didn’t want to make more.

He simply didn’t have the Emotion Value for it.

World War II spanned the entire globe. The number of stories and events was endless. Just riding the wave of this single moment of hype was barely enough to create the “Normandy Landing”—and even that was a cut-down version.

Once the game launched and started collecting more Emotion Value, he could quickly begin updates and improve the game.

Zhao Ming’s vision was to follow a timeline approach—some missions would offer immersive narrative experiences, while major battles like “Normandy Landing” and “Battle of Stalingrad” would become multiplayer dungeons.

During holidays, there could be large-scale national war missions like “Blitzkrieg on Poland” or “Defense of Berlin.”

Let players take the role of Polish soldiers resisting invasion or Imperial soldiers defending the capital Berlin.

Just imagining it was thrilling.

Zhao Ming couldn’t help but smile slightly.

Seeing his expression,

Shen Qinghan suddenly felt a wave of unease.

What on earth had this guy thought of to smile so evilly?

“Well, since there are no other missions for now.”

“Then keep working on it. Although this game…”

“Forget it.”

“It may be exploiting a loophole in the ‘Anti-War Competition’ rules…”

“But if we insist it’s an anti-war game, it’s not entirely wrong.”

“After all, the core idea is to let players experience the cruelty of war, to achieve an anti-war effect.”

“Still, we need to do some proper packaging.”

“And add a bit of hype to attract public attention.”

“Send me everything you’ve got so far—I’ll have the team polish it.”

“Also, add a countdown on the official website.”

“Wait until the competition begins before releasing the game—otherwise, it’ll get reported and taken down by parents.”

Zhao Ming had no objection:

“Alright.”

“I’ll package up the main storyline, gameplay core, and CG scenes and send them to you.”

Shen Qinghan had far more influence than he did. The team she brought in would surely handle the branding well. Once the game passed launch approval, he’d just focus on optimization.

Then Shen Qinghan added:

“By the way.”

“Are we still working on ‘Cyber Blue Star: 2077’? If so, make sure all future innovations and copyrights stay tightly in your hands.”

“If you want to mess with them…”

“No matter what price Emperor Penguin Group offers—don’t sell it.”

“It’s fine to use it to disgust them from time to time.”

Zhao Ming nodded:

“Got it.”

“Besides, we spent so much money on it—we might as well launch it. Make back whatever we can.”

The original developer’s “Cyber Blue Star: 2077” was destined to flop.

But since it involved the Emperor Penguin Group, even haters who just wanted to bash the company might come try the original version—though probably not many.

Companies previously plagiarized by Emperor Penguin Group had almost all gone bankrupt. In the end, forced by survival, they sold their IP.

Bootleg became official.

Even the ones with a bit of backbone couldn’t stand up to the overwhelming force of Emperor Penguin Group dragging things out—until they were dragged to death.

But Zhao Ming’s situation was different now.

After playing the game, Shen Qinghan had gained confidence in Zhao Ming’s “WWII: Rise of the Empire.” It was bound to be a hit—though how big a hit remained to be seen.

But one thing was certain.

Zhao Ming was no longer in danger—he might even make a comeback because of this game.

And once he made a comeback—

He’d have the leverage to go head-to-head with Emperor Penguin Group.

When the buzz faded, or when he wanted to stir things up, he could bring out the lawsuit card.

Throw in some paid trolls and influencers—anything related to Emperor Penguin Group, that massive corporation, would immediately draw attention.

All the Federation Coins they had lost—they’d claw them back one way or another.

Meanwhile.

At the headquarters of the Emperor Penguin Group.

Xu Huan, director of the game department,

sat in front of his computer, browsing the official website of Polaris Game Company.

He scrolled up and down.

Something felt off—but he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

Polaris Game Company only had total capital of 60 million Federation Coins.

And they’d already spent over 58 million.

Where the hell did they get the money to make a new game?

And despite being plagiarized, they were oddly calm. Unlike other developers who lost it completely, this guy remained silent. That made Xu Huan feel vaguely uneasy.

Just then—

There was a knock at the office door:

“Director, I’m back.”

Xu Huan recognized his subordinate’s voice and said:

“Come in.”

“How’s the situation with Hao Wen?”

His subordinate had a strange look on his face:

“Uh… we didn’t get to meet him.”

“The hospital nurses said Hao Wen was already taken away.”

“Although we signed a contract with him and paid his breach penalty and compensation…”

“Polaris didn’t ask for compensation at all.”

“They insisted Hao Wen leaked company secrets, causing losses of over 50 million Federation Coins.”

“At that amount, he’s facing at least twenty years in prison.”