To ascend, I had no choice but to create games

Wang from Wang Say Games knew the show would be popular, but he hadn’t anticipated it becoming this wildly successful. The bustling nature of the program led him to ponder for a long time before he gradually found the answer.

In China, it seemed there was no other eSports program quite like it.

The entertainment programs on the market were basically a group of celebrities performing awkwardly. A formerly decent show had been canceled due to being too down-to-earth, leaving only a bunch of actors following scripts.

Each person, based on their own popularity, played a different role, with scripted interactions among them. What everyone said on different occasions needed to be customized, and the jokes that were made were tepid at best, to ensure nothing problematic could be found upon review.

But “Who is the Champion” was different.

There were no celebrities invited, no big names, just a group of people being themselves and playing in diverse ways.

Moreover, the quality of the game itself was solid, and the competition segments were not boring to watch. Players eliminated early on could take the opportunity to trash talk, spouting nonsense as if they were school children.

They were accustomed to making a living off their banter and, once familiar, had no psychological pressure even if the local stations had larger tolerances; editors still had to check to pass the censors.

It was rumored that the uncut versions contained even more trash talk, with some players able to go on for upwards of fifteen minutes, enough to make a solo stand-up comedy show.

Beyond that, the audience also got to see another side of eSports players’ daily lives.

eSports players were flesh and blood too, and they often felt anxious due to poor performance.

In behind-the-scenes footage, they saw how Coach Lin would counsel players on mental health issues daily, revealing the hard truths of eSports.

However, the show’s success provided new opportunities. Even if they never became champions, they could now consider positions like star-streamers.

Thanks to the show’s popularity, Wang Say Games saw a crazy increase in follower count, with a surge of people flooding into his live broadcasts. Daily, people would message him privately asking about the outcome of “Who is the Champion,” but due to confidentiality agreements, Wang could only feign ignorance and not respond.

While the rate of TV viewership was on the decline year by year, television still held significant influence. The powerful advertising impact made “Who is the Champion” and “Quiet Cultivation” hot topics of conversation, and the entertainment segment of the fourth episode took the show’s impact to new heights.

In this episode, Fang Cheng made an appearance.

When Fang Cheng appeared on the screen, the viewership rate for “Who is the Champion” instantly broke through 23%. The digital version of the show’s play count soared online, and the hot topics of the day were even overtaken by enthusiastic fans, leaving celebrities who paid for trending spots at a loss.

Looking at the hot topics of the day, one could feel the fans’ excitement.

[Boss, stop making games and join the entertainment industry, okay?]

[No acting skills needed, no expressions needed, I’d be willing to watch even if you presented with PowerPoint slides.]

[I object to Fang Cheng acting; who do you think you are, seducing my boyfriend?]

[Some choose talent, others choose looks, but the boss says he wants it all—and Heaven gave it to him!]

[As a gaming enthusiast, this is the first time I wish someone would stop gaming and start acting.]

The day after the show aired, Xu Qingling looked at the media reports and felt that she should never have let her boss participate in any show.

However, finding many people shared her discernment, she felt it might not be too bad after all.

But some zealous fans might sniff out the scent and come over, which could impact the studio’s regular operations. It was time to deal with this.

If they could get through this period, the frenzied fans would gradually cool down, and Fang Cheng Studio would return to serenity. By then, it wouldn’t be a problem.

After removing the company’s address information and registering a new one elsewhere, Xu Qingling tried to legally alter Fang Cheng Studio’s information as much as possible, minimizing the impact to the lowest level.

After handling these tasks, she saw Fang Cheng staring thoughtfully at the sales records of “Quiet Cultivation.”

The sales of “Quiet Cultivation” were better than they had anticipated; Wang Xiaoying had already urgently contracted artists to create a new batch of posters to celebrate the game’s crossing of the ten million mark, then soaring to fifteen million copies.

Although part of the sales were due to fanatic fans purchasing multiple copies, the number of players online indicated the game was undoubtedly a recent hit.

Yet, seeing such high sales did not make Fang Cheng particularly happy.

High sales meant high revenue, but over the past nine months, he had been distributing profits and paying salaries punctually each month, with Xu Qingling devising various perks for the employees, yet the company’s bank balance had still reached 2.2 billion yuan.

Looking at so much money made him as uncomfortable as seeing Tian Xuan’s accrued merits.

After all, money on the books isn’t truly money—it’s only beneficial to society when it’s in circulation.

“So, how should we spend this money?” Fang Cheng pondered with a sigh during lunch.

“Start a business, something that burns through cash. Just pick an industry, and you’ll probably run it into the ground,” Xu Qingling teased while sipping her tea. “I know a few second-generation rich kids—they used to hang around aimlessly waiting to inherit the family fortune, but they had the bright idea to start a business.”