Chapter 11

Gao Yang held his breath and messaged the group admin privately, determined to get justice for himself.

“Get out here right now!”

He hadn’t even finished typing his next message when the admin’s reply popped up—clearly, he’d been waiting for this.

“It’s all a misunderstanding, brother, just a misunderstanding! I’ll add you back to the group immediately.”

Back then, the admin had spent quite a bit himself, and when he kicked Gao Yang out, there was definitely a personal grudge involved. Now, with a powerful backer in the group and everyone’s spirits lifted, the admin’s attitude had changed completely. He apologized profusely as he added Gao Yang back into the group.

He even tagged everyone: “@everyone Our brother @Lamb is back. Let’s all give him a warm welcome!”

The group went strangely silent for a few seconds, then the chat exploded with welcome messages. Some people weren’t satisfied with a single message and sent a series of different welcome memes.

“See? Everyone wanted you back,” the admin said with a sigh.

“You’d better hope that’s the case.” Gao Yang was not fooled by the surface friendliness. He scrolled to the very top of the chat history.

What he saw nearly made him faint from anger.

“All of you, get out here and explain yourselves! What’s this about ‘puppets’?” Gao Yang snapped.

Meanwhile, after the first player reached max level, the studio’s revenue began to climb steadily. It hadn’t returned to its former pace, but the numbers were still impressive.

At the same time, the backend showed a flurry of transfer requests—players moving their characters to new servers, and most of them joining a particular guild. This, in turn, attracted a wave of new players.

All of this was within Jiang Qiubai’s expectations.

A fleeting thrill might tempt players to top up unconsciously, but if you want them to spend money with clear heads, you have to offer them something irresistible.

Deep down, all players are competitive and love a spectacle. Once they realized they could join or create guilds, it was inevitable that they’d fight tooth and nail to be number one.

Until the top guild was established, there would be no worry about a daily revenue baseline.

But then there was their reputation…

Jiang Qiubai thought of those web game studios back in his previous world—how notorious some of them were. After a moment’s thought, he decided to be a bit more conscientious than his predecessors.

“Xiao Wu, keep an eye on the players’ reactions, then post an announcement on the official site—”

“Boss, we don’t actually have an official site yet,” Xiao Wu reminded him timidly.

Jiang Qiubai paused. “Then use the official Weibo. Who’s in charge of that?”

No one volunteered.

Jiang Qiubai pointed at random. “Xiao Wu, you’ll manage the official Weibo for now. Just post some positive content every day. I’ll send you the details of the announcement later—work with Xiao Li to refine it.”

“After that, Xiao Zhang, get the website up as soon as possible. Nothing fancy, just let the players know it exists.”

This was all preparation for launching their next game. Jiang Qiubai had no intention of relying on this one forever.

“Got it!” Xiao Zhang replied cheerfully.

“Have the announcement ready in advance and make sure you post it quickly,” Jiang Qiubai instructed, then reconsidered. “But not too quickly… Actually, just be ready. Post it when I give the word.”

Letting things simmer for a while would only boost the game’s visibility. When the time was right, a sudden wave of benefits could win over a whole new batch of players.

Xiao Wu nodded, then hesitated. “Do you think the players will react badly?”

If so, she’d have to be very careful with her wording.

“…Why don’t you try the official version of the game yourself and see it from a player’s perspective,” Jiang Qiubai suggested tactfully.

He couldn’t very well tell her outright that they’d be cursing them to high heaven.

“Oh, I’ll give it a try then,” Xiao Wu replied naively.

If the game was making money, it meant people liked it, right? What else could happen?

She had yet to grasp the gravity of the situation.

We’re still short on hands, Jiang Qiubai mused. If they had a dedicated operations manager, things would be so much easier.

Judging by current trends, it was a sure thing that they’d have plenty left over after paying off the loans. It was time to start recruiting.

He turned to Old Liu. “Supervisor Liu, I’ll need you to handle recruitment for the next few days. Fill all the positions we lost.”

“What are the requirements?” Old Liu asked.

“Just fill the roster first. Then we can start reaching out to people with experience,” Jiang Qiubai replied. He already had a concept for their next game forming in his mind.

“All right, back to your desks, everyone.” Jiang Qiubai stood, ready to draft the announcement for Xiao Wu.

“Yes, boss,” they answered in unison.

But no one moved. They were mesmerized, glued to the real-time revenue display.

Watching those numbers tick upward was simply too satisfying. Who could tear themselves away?

Jiang Qiubai shook his head with a helpless smile and closed the office door.

Xiao Wu, at least, was obedient. She dragged herself back to her desk and opened the game.

What was wrong with this game? It seemed great to her.

But she still didn’t get it.

Fifteen minutes later.

Well, it did cost a bit, but it wasn’t a rip-off—they gave you all these bonuses too.

Xiao Wu reassured herself.

Forty minutes later.

…When the players start venting, will I really be able to handle it?

Now she understood the meaning behind Jiang Qiubai’s earlier words. Her hands were trembling as she entered her login details—such a short username and password, yet it felt like an eternity.

“Xiao Li, can you help me log in?” Still unable to face the storm she imagined was brewing, Xiao Wu opted for avoidance.

“What’s gotten into you?” Xiao Li, clueless, took the mouse. “You’re in. The password was fine.”

“Can you—can you check if any players have left comments?”

“Oh, plenty! There are over ninety-nine notifications, both tags and DMs.” Xiao Li was delighted. “Looks like we’re going viral!”

“Can… you open them?”

Xiao Li gave her a strange look. “What’s wrong, Xiao Wu? Isn’t this a good thing? Wait, hold on…”

Xiao Li’s eyes widened like saucers. “We’re trending!”

Then, with utter confusion, she asked, “What does this trending topic even mean?”

“Let me see!” The moment the other employees heard, they rushed over, abandoning the revenue chart.

“Dragon Slayer Sword—Heartless Game,” Old Liu read the trending topic word by word.

Xiao Yang snatched the mouse and clicked in. “What’s this all about?”

At the top of the trending page was a video by a blogger called Big Mouth Luo.

The caption read: “What kind of diabolical company comes up with so many heartless gift packs? @Dreambuilders Studio V Care to explain?”

Part-time operator Xiao Li felt her knees go weak.

It wasn’t me. I swear it wasn’t. Don’t drag me into this!