Chapter 9

As it turned out, not only were there pet items, but there were plenty of them. After clicking to purchase, the pet shop popped up. Gao Yang examined it carefully and discovered that, aside from “Basic Pet Food,” “Intermediate Pet Food,” “Advanced Pet Food,” and “Celestial Beast Food,” there were also cultivation manuals for pets, bloodline enhancement items, and experience pills to help pets level up quickly.

A full array of items, everything one could want.

This wasn’t just raising a pet—it was like pampering a little master.

Gao Yang swallowed hard, quickly scrolled through the options, and bought only a pack of basic pet food, restoring his little phoenix’s energy.

Tempted as he was, he forced himself to hold back.

The name-change card didn’t count toward the cumulative top-up amount, but together with that pack of pet food, Gao Yang had just recharged enough to reach one hundred and was now upgraded to VIP1.

[Congratulations, player! Upgraded to VIP1. You now receive two hours of auto-play privileges per day.]

[Recharge another two hundred to reach VIP2, unlocking four hours of auto-play and an exclusive, distinguished title effect.]

Auto-play privilege?

Gao Yang read the description carefully—this was fantastic!

Automatic quest acceptance, monster slaying, quest completion, and all loot went straight into his inventory—he didn’t have to do anything at all, just check in from time to time and wait for the level-ups to roll in.

Just in time, since he needed to get to work.

This game was so convenient—perfect for playing at work.

Still… he glanced at the exclusive perks for VIP2, and remembered the pet cultivation manuals he’d seen earlier.

Two hours just wasn’t enough. Since he’d already started spending, why not top up another two hundred and upgrade? He could even grab some other bundles while he was at it.

It definitely wasn’t about the exclusive title effect—he wasn’t that vain!

He convinced himself, and seconds later, his in-game ID changed from green to blue, with a prominent golden V appended, marking his VIP status.

Not bad—spending money really made a difference.

Apparently, if he made it to VIP5, he could pick a flashy special effect? The thought flashed through his mind but was quickly suppressed.

No, he really had to get to work now.

He left the game running in the background and started handling today’s tasks, checking in on the game occasionally.

His character was diligently leveling up—progress was impressive. He was close to level fifty, and his inventory was already packed with various consumable items.

He couldn’t be more pleased.

Gao Yang thought to himself that such a great game shouldn’t be enjoyed alone.

He immediately posted the game in a gaming group with several hundred members.

Most people in the group were like him—working professionals with little time for games.

Today, he was bringing happiness to his friends.

Feeling quite pleased with himself, Gao Yang sang the game’s praises.

“This game doesn’t need to be bought, you don’t need to download anything, just jump right in.”

“You start out max-level, and combat feels amazing.”

“They gave me tons of stuff—gear, pets, all of it. And the pet is especially powerful; it can one-shot monsters.”

He wanted to list even more benefits, but just then he received a meeting notification, and only had time to add one last line:

“Trust me, guys—it’s a truly fair game, and playing it is pure joy.”

With that, he reluctantly bowed out and went to his meeting.

Ah, I really am selfless.

Gao Yang shook his head wistfully.

He wondered how they’d praise him when he returned.

After Gao Yang’s rapid barrage of messages, group members started to show up.

“What is this thing?”

“No idea, but I saw an ad for it on the subway today. Looked pretty interesting—they said it’s a browser game.”

“Browser game? And it’s free? I’ll have to try it.”

Those two phrases piqued everyone’s curiosity. For a moment, both the loiterers and the lurkers couldn’t help but open the game.

Five minutes later, everyone was playing and chatting at the same time.

“It’s actually pretty good.”

“Combat feels great, but I don’t know which bastard took my name first—I had to pay six bucks for a rename.”

“The mechanics feel solid, and the pet system is fun. I checked, and this little phoenix can upgrade its bloodline with manuals and pills, eventually becoming a divine beast.”

“Wait, my set of godly gear was only a trial!”

“Don’t worry, just recharge one buck and you’ll get it back.”

“Just one? How could I not go for it?”

Half an hour later, someone started to notice something was off.

“Why did the monster levels jump so much? They can’t kill me, but fighting them is exhausting.”

“Did you miss that value bundle? The later mobs need celestial gear to defeat.”

“Huh?”

An hour in—

“Something feels wrong… Wasn’t this a free game? I just checked my payment texts and I’ve spent over six hundred already.”

“Now that you mention it, this really is a free game! I’ve spent over a thousand just to refresh my pet’s bloodline, and still haven’t gotten a ninth-tier trait!”

“Let’s not even talk about it. What level are you guys? I only spent one buck, and I’m barely past level thirty. Killing monsters takes forever and they hardly drop anything good.”

“I’ve recharged over a hundred, and I’m just past level eighty.”

“I spent a bit more—almost a thousand—and I’m around level one-thirty. Monsters just keep getting tougher.”

“What’s up with this game? Is leveling based on recharges?”

“…Is this really a free game? Why do I have to buy items to upgrade gear or raise my pet?”

“And why does gear fail to upgrade? If it fails, it shatters. If you want a 100% success rate, you have to buy items. Without them, you can’t play at all.”

Once the players cooled off, they started realizing something was wrong.

They’d thought, it’s a free game, spending a few bucks isn’t a big deal—after all, a regular game costs dozens.

Who knew the paywalls would multiply, and when they added up all their purchases, it was enough to buy several AAA titles!

And it had been less than two hours since they started playing!

Less than two hours, and the game had swallowed so much money!

“No, I can’t top up anymore.”

“Right, gotta control myself. So what if killing monsters is slower? I can wait.”

This wasn’t an isolated case; many players, upon realizing the situation, slowed or stopped spending.

This became instantly apparent to the employees at Jiang Qiubai’s studio.

After seeing hope in the name-change card, they’d all been glued to their screens, watching the revenue tick up.

Though it was just a string of dry numbers, it had them all fired up—the moment the game launched, revenue skyrocketed within half an hour, the numbers leaping every time they blinked.

In just one hour, with barely over eight thousand players, revenue had already surpassed one million!

What did this mean? That, on average, each player had spent over a hundred!

Over a hundred!

To put it in perspective, even the ancient-style single-player game from the rival Illusion Sword Studio, which had dominated sales charts for two weeks, was only priced at a bit over sixty!

Just looking at the first hour’s sales, they were already neck and neck with Illusion Sword Studio!

All they could do was stare even more intently at the revenue, silently praying for the numbers to keep climbing.

This wasn’t just revenue—it was their future salaries and bonuses!

They recalled Jiang Qiubai’s words of encouragement—

“Salaries doubled, bonuses on top.”

“When the new game launches, I’ll take ten percent of the month’s profits as bonuses for everyone.”

At the time, they’d thought it was empty promises and hadn’t taken it seriously, even scoffing inwardly. Now, recalling those words felt like music to their ears.

At this rate, salaries hardly mattered—the ten percent bonus was the real prize!

One million an hour—so in a day… multiply by thirty…

Just thinking about it made them dizzy with happiness.

They were all the more grateful they hadn’t left when things were tough.

Unfortunately, good things never last. Just as everyone thought revenue would keep climbing, the growth began to slow.

Whereas before, a single blink would see revenue jump by a thousand or two, now it was only the hundreds place inching up, and for a few seconds, only the tens digit changed.

Don’t stop! Everyone shouted inwardly: Move, just move a little bit!

Their prayers went unanswered.

“Boss, the recharge rate seems to be slowing,” Old Liu, who’d been monitoring revenue, anxiously got up to report to Jiang Qiubai, who had already retreated to his office, indifferent to the numbers.

“That’s normal. By now, the players have realized what kind of game this is—some will stay, some will leave.” Jiang Qiubai replied without looking up.

“But now revenue’s only going up by a thousand or two per minute!” Xiao Yang couldn’t help but shout.

…For a game that only cost about a million to make, a thousand or two per minute is considered slow.

When did they all become so adept at humblebragging?

“Even at this rate, it’s impressive for single-day revenue,” Jiang Qiubai finally stood from behind his computer, recalling the quiet predictions he’d overheard before launch.

Back then, they’d scoffed and said, “If we make a hundred thousand, it’ll be a miracle.”

Now, in less than half a day, they’d made a million—how could they not be satisfied?

Jiang Qiubai was right—even at this pace, the revenue was enough to crush other browser games.

But they’d just tasted the thrill of a million an hour! Compared to that, the current growth felt lackluster.

Why couldn’t that joy have lasted a little longer?

The employees were secretly bitter.

“Boss, will it pick up again?” Xiao Yang couldn’t keep the question to himself.

Jiang Qiubai slowly scanned the expectant faces in the studio and said, “Not necessarily. Players aren’t attached to the game yet—they could all quit at any moment.”

Everyone visibly drooped at his words. Jiang Qiubai continued, “Originally, I planned to ease them in—let them enjoy a few days, get used to logging in, then gradually introduce paid items.”

That was true. Everyone remembered Jiang Qiubai had mentioned it, but at the time…

They all drew a sharp breath as the memory surfaced.

They hadn’t cared at all, thinking the boss was just covering for a flop in advance.

“Morale was low, so I adjusted things—let you see immediate results,” Jiang Qiubai intoned. “Now you’ve seen what happens.”

They had, and now they regretted it deeply.

Everyone who’d just been grumbling about revenue now lowered their heads in reflection.

If only they’d trusted the boss a little more.

With such a capable boss, how could they ever have thought he was selling them empty promises?

That previous impression of him as an overconfident dreamer faded, replaced by an image of a precise, visionary leader.

Seeing their changed expressions, Jiang Qiubai knew that next time, they’d follow his lead without hesitation.

Plan successful.

Objective achieved, Jiang Qiubai gave them a stick and a carrot: “But once some players reach max level, things may improve. Let’s see how revenue looks by the end of the day, and I’ll adjust the game content later.”

This reignited everyone’s hope.

“Got it!” Xiao Yang was the first to stand and applaud.

“Boss, just say the word. I’m not going home tonight—won’t sleep until the game’s updated!” Xiao Li had never been so eager to work overtime.

“Yeah, boss, I love working overtime!”

“The studio is my home, overtime is my blessing!”

Jiang Qiubai nodded with satisfaction.

Such wonderful employees.