Chapter 36: Dimensional Motion Capture Studio

Gu Meng shook his head, rejecting Wu Mengyou’s well-intentioned advice.

"There are no 'what-ifs.' I’ve told you so many times to just trust me. Even with only a few months, the game we end up producing will absolutely shock the players."

"But..."

If Gu Meng had just taken over as CEO and they weren't that familiar with each other, Wu Mengyou might not have voiced so much opposition. But now that they were well-acquainted and she had been promoted, she felt a sense of ownership over the company.

"I’m not doubting your ability, Boss Gu. I’m doubting the ability of everyone else in the company. Can they keep up with your pace?"

"I believe in them."

What Gu Meng was actually thinking was that as long as everyone did their best to create the assets, he could just hand it all over to the system to polish at the end. With the same amount of manpower, making a game to the level of a functional demo might only take half a year, but a complete finished product and the subsequent refining usually took ten times longer.

As long as Gu Meng was willing to spend the money, he only needed an initial prototype for the system to generate the final version. It was merely a matter of how much it would cost, and surely it wouldn't end up worse than the *Pure Love* demo.

It was equivalent to Gu Meng having a safety net, allowing him to charge forward boldly. Everyone just needed to sprint ahead—whether they reached the finish line didn't matter as long as they ran with all their might. The rest would be left to Gu Meng.

Wu Mengyou was left speechless. Most of the people in the company were newcomers; could they really hold such high expectations for them? Or was Boss Gu confident that he could single-handedly cover for everyone? The scale of this game was clearly much larger than *Pure Love*. Even if Boss Gu had ten livers, could he handle the pressure?

"Forget it. Since you’re so worried, let me show you something good. It will significantly reduce our workload. Follow me to the basement."

"Huh? The... the basement?"

Wu Mengyou froze. It was so sudden. Youxuan’s basement was... well...

Once she realized what he meant, she put on a show of reluctant compliance: "Boss Gu, this... isn't really appropriate, is it? We're still on company time."

"What are you thinking? Of course I know it's work hours. Come on, hurry up."

Gu Meng dragged Wu Mengyou to the basement. He had the confidence to release the 4399-version of *Legend of the Heroes: Zero* as a free advertisement because he had the system’s black technology to back him up. As long as he generated enough initial awareness, he wasn't worried that the official version of the game would be deemed unworthy of purchase; he was more eager to build up his reputation quickly.

Gu Meng had already tested the "Dimensional Game Motion Capture Studio," choosing to install it in a special studio in the basement of Youxuan. In the past, during the Mao Dou era, only very risqué scenes were filmed there—though in reality, they weren't that extreme. Mao Dou had his limits and wouldn't show anything explicit; even in art-house films, his work was considered quite tame and often criticized for being too mild. Film critics felt that once the emotions were in place, why not just go for the intimate scenes? It was only when placed into a game that people complained about the "scale." True "large-scale" content was more like *Lust, Caution*, but since that was considered art, Mao Dou’s art was dismissed as merely pandering to base desires.

But back to the point: Gu Meng had used that black technology to record a short action sequence, and the final effect was completely beyond his expectations. It was incredibly convenient. His body only had to perform a simple slashing motion, and the actual result rendered on screen was beautiful, fluid, and could be adjusted at will.

How to put it? While it wasn't quite like optimizing the martial arts choreography of a low-budget TV show to the level of Jet Li’s *Swordsman*, the gap wasn't that large anymore. In an instant, Gu Meng understood the value of this black technology. Setting aside the special effects and battles against supernatural monsters, just for human-to-human combat, this equipment could optimize ordinary fight scenes to perfection.

Furthermore, the device allowed for so many adjustments to the maneuvers that every exchange of blows would have subtle differences. Players might not be able to pull off such complex inputs, but Gu Meng could easily pack dozens of variations for a single martial arts technique into the game. Through simple button combinations, he could offer "foolproof" controls, or allow the game to automatically select the appropriate moves based on the character's martial arts cultivation, or even provide advanced mechanics for skilled players.

This meant that even players accustomed to turn-based games could enjoy the simple satisfaction of sweeping through enemies by nurturing their characters—which was definitely more satisfying than just watching a generic "ultimate move" animation where a few enemy sprites flashed and disappeared. Since the movements never repeated, it felt as if one had truly stepped into a world of martial arts.

High-level players could also choose to hone their skills, using flashy, high-intensity maneuvers to challenge opponents above their level, parrying and countering masters even when their cultivation was lower. A skilled player could fight a powerful opponent for hundreds of rounds without a single repeated move, just like in the martial arts novels.

This game... it seemed it could launch with a simple online feature, opening up 1v1 duels or chaotic group brawls between players. By bringing in those two professional action directors from Mao Dou and recruiting a group of reliable domestic stunt actors and martial artists—people who actually knew how to make fighting look good—the final action effects of the game would certainly exceed the players' wildest imaginations.

Moreover, the novels of Jin Long and Gu Yong were all within the realm of traditional martial arts. Inner energy attacks couldn't span more than a dozen feet, and even the Shaolin Sweeper Monk could only manifest a three-foot air wall; most combat was hand-to-hand, featuring standard slashes, combos, and cleaves. This equipment was perfect for that.

As for the necessary inner energy special effects, he could have his employees create the base, and the system could provide the final polish. Gu Meng still had plenty of funds, so spending a bit on skill effects was fine. He also had another skill-tree core code he hadn't used yet, which could generate a vast array of martial arts skills, each with its own unique characteristics and counter-relationships, all perfectly aligned with the original setting. He would use that here.

Unlike the Dimensional Game Motion Capture Studio, which was a permanent facility that could potentially be replicated once the principles were understood, the code was more of a one-time consumable. Once selected for use in a game, it would disappear. Because many aspects of the system’s creations were incomprehensible to Earthlings, once this instance was used, he might not be able to replicate it next time; he could only use the parts he understood as a reference.

However, Gu Meng wasn't planning on hoarding these treasure chest rewards forever; he would spend them when necessary. Perhaps because the Bronze Treasure Chest rewards weren't knowledge-based, they were only small prizes. The grand prizes might be the types of black technology that could be used repeatedly, like the motion capture studio.

If it weren't for the system’s built-in anti-suspicion feature, Gu Meng would never have been able to hide the anomalies in his games. Other industry insiders would have eventually discovered that his company’s game code looked like alien script. It was precisely because of these incomprehensible parts that the more involved the system was, the harder it was to modify the game later. That *Pure Love Fighter Simulator* had been entirely handled by the system, which was why it was almost impossible to bypass the system to change anything within the game.

"I see. Boss Gu’s invention is actually this impressive. No wonder you were so confident."

Wu Mengyou arrived at the basement and found that the risqué sets were gone, replaced by action film backdrops. She felt a slight twinge of disappointment. So, Boss Gu really had brought her to the basement just to talk about work...

Tch, what a workaholic. Come to think of it, they spent every night at the company; she had actually been looking forward to some office romance tropes. She would pretend to push him away, and then, right there in the office, he would succumb to his primal instincts...

What an unromantic, heartless man.