Chapter Thirteen: The Wrath of the Dragon King

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Gu Meng’s eyes visibly reddened, but he managed to maintain his composure, refraining from losing his temper outright.
Primarily, he had just finished putting on a show and still cared about his image.
With a slight tremor, he removed the plain glasses he had worn for effect:
“Everyone below director level, leave.”
Since the management team had just been dismissed and there were no directors left, this meant everyone had to leave.
The conference room quickly emptied; no one dared to stay and incur the wrath of General Manager Gu.
Only Wu Mengyou stayed behind until the end, casting a worried glance at Mr. Gu before gently closing the soundproof door as she left.
Once the room was empty, Gu Meng started pounding the table fiercely. “Damn it! These pests interfering with us!”
“What exactly is going on?”
“Mengmeng even said the promotional video I carefully prepared backfired?”
“Wasn’t the advantage on my side just moments ago?”
…
Time rewinds to shortly before this moment.
Because so few people were willing to handle the promotion this time, Gu Meng suspected everyone was afraid of getting dragged down by the previous chaos caused by Maodou.
In this world, the gaming industry was more refined; anyone taking on promotion had to be transparent. Game influencers were generally more careful about their reputations.
Some games with powerful backing could ignore these rules, but Maodou’s game was not one of them.
Digging deeper, some might fear that Maodou was caught in a ruthless clampdown by some overwhelming, shadowy forces, so no one dared to take the risk.
Gu Meng worried that without promotion, the game’s release would go unnoticed and flop immediately.
So he came up with a new idea—he would do it himself.
Thus, on this day, the official Maodou account, not yet renamed “Gaming Metaphysics,” and Gu Ritian’s various social media accounts under “Brother Da Ri” all posted a new video.
Old Maodou fans who heard about the new game, along with curious netizens drawn by recent news about the truck accident, witnessed a shocking scene:
“Hello everyone, I am Gu Ritian.”
“When you see this video, I will already be dead...”
On screen appeared footage of Gu Ritian, who had long since been incapacitated by Chuang Fei, delivering a last testament!
“Holy lightning strike at the opening!”
“Brother Da Ri, you’re not dead?”
“This is the official account, right?”
“Is this some kind of paranormal video...?”

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“Unintentional offense (candle)(candle)…”
The few comments flashing through when the video was first released all carried this tone.
Some even suspected the video was a fake… but with no AI disclaimers, it was real!
Players were spooked—was there some deep conspiracy involved?
Did someone send old Mr. Gu a death notice in advance so he knew he was going to be taken out in the street?
Well, the video was actually fake.
Gu Meng had synthesized it using the system’s auxiliary function, the sub-feature “Game Promotion Video Production.”
The footage was shot by Gu Meng himself in Maodou’s CEO office, with the system replacing the appearance and voice.
This few-minute video had no grand special effects. To maintain authenticity and avoid shooting himself in the foot, Gu Meng not only used the promotional budget originally allocated to the content creators but even went over budget.
The system operator sure charged a hefty fee.
However, the effect was striking; by Earth technology standards, it was impossible to tell the video was fabricated.
The “last testament” focused on sentimentality.
The Gu Ritian on screen appeared calm about his death and didn’t expose industry darkness or conspiracy theories as the audience expected.
He simply said he’d been feeling uneasy lately; his health checkup revealed multiple issues, and he had a vague premonition of ill fate.
He was pessimistic, believing that people could lose their lives to any number of accidents—
Sudden illness, falling off cliffs, lightning strikes, tornadoes, earthquakes, truck collisions…
Human life was fragile, death came in many forms.
So, during the production of the next game, Pure Love Warrior Simulator, he recorded this video.
If anything happened to him midway, his son Gu Meng would release it on his behalf.
In the video, he described his expectations for the game, calling it “Maodou’s final and best game”;
“A masterpiece of father-son collaboration”;
“Meng has already surpassed me”;
“Meng is a true game-making genius—acting just delayed him”;
“The story and script are the best in Maodou’s history”;
“It showcases our indomitable spirit and consistent attitude”;
“The gameplay is rich and as fun as any top-tier industry title”;
“It will surely leave players with unforgettable memories.”
At the end, there was a small emotional touch: “Life rushes by; we should leave behind something. I sincerely hope our game can bring joy to players.”

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…
Gu Meng had talent; don’t underestimate him for not winning an acting award—the video’s impact was even tear-jerking.
Combined with the recent sensational news about the truck driver who couldn’t be caught in broad daylight, the public’s simple sympathy for Maodou, pressured to the brink by dark forces, surged.
Furthermore, this world’s passion and high attention to games meant the video quickly went viral, circulating widely through various channels.
The major platforms saw millions of views in a short time.
After watching the video, whether or not they were Maodou fans, many felt the “final work” was sincere, and those who downloaded and tried it confirmed it was indeed fun.
Except for a few who thought the heroine was too demanding, greedy, and unsympathetic toward the male lead, all other aspects were strengths—the game’s advantages were numerous.
The price was generous too; with such rich gameplay, selling it for 400 yuan wouldn’t be unreasonable, yet it was only 68 yuan.
Recalling the game’s opening lines—“Maodou’s final work,” “This game is dedicated to my friends, my teachers, my father, the forever young and forever passionate game maker Brother Da Ri”—the sentiment was overwhelming.
Countless people exclaimed, “My youth is complete.”
Praise poured in like a flood.
Moreover, during Gu Meng’s takeover, with Secretary Wu’s help, a comprehensive plan was already prepared.
They swiftly capitalized on the traffic to maintain promotion, finally pushing the game to break out of its niche.
The hype wasn’t limited to the animation-game or romance game circles.
Before the meeting, everything looked promising.
Unless the game’s reputation immediately collapsed and players refunded en masse, it was bound to be a success.
Gu Meng had the track record to back this up; feeling confident the outcome was settled, he boldly pushed company reforms and was so ambitious and spirited during the meeting.
He spoke with assurance about the name change and promised future prospects.
But after just one meeting, the situation suddenly shifted.
It seemed everything that had happened was mocked as foolish. So what went wrong?
A foreboding feeling arose… Could it really be Meng Juju’s doing?
Gu Meng collected his thoughts, picked up the tablet Secretary Wu had left, and checked the latest news.
The news interface was filled with criticism: “Deceiving players again, distorting values, inappropriate promotion rhetoric,” and so on.
It was immediately clear—rival companies had made their move.
Of course, why would competitors go easy just because Gu Ritian was dead? They seized the opportunity to strike.
…