Chapter 30: Who Did I Offend?

'This is the worst time the Joker has ever been roasted!'

'Let’s be fair—clowns bring joy to people. What about Teacher Zhong?'

'Upstairs, hasn’t Teacher Zhong brought us enough joy already?'

'233333, thanks to Chen Xu, I’ve discovered Teacher Zhong. Whenever I’m feeling down, reading Teacher Zhong’s old quotes instantly lifts my mood.'

'But honestly, I’m still curious about Chen Xu’s new game. It just feels kind of sketchy!'

'Has he really gotten overconfident?'

'Hard to say. But given Mirror (Game) and Undertale, I’ll believe it when I see it.'

'Ten days feels way too short.'

As Chen Xu’s official Weibo account sparked discussion, many players who had followed him since Mirror (Game) and Undertale began debating online.

Most shared the same sentiment—skepticism.

After all, the timeline was just too tight.

………………

While players, the industry, and gaming media buzzed with speculation, at NetDragon’s Jianhuolei Studio, a game designer was trembling as he read the online chatter.

Meng Zuo, the lead designer at Jianhuolei Studio, was currently developing a sci-fi game titled Galaxy Heroes.

His primary goal? Winning first place in the upcoming sci-fi Game Design Competition.

NetDragon sounded impressive—until you realized how many internal project teams there actually were. His Jianhuolei Studio was just one among many.

And not every team could secure tens or even hundreds of millions for development. In NetDragon’s internal hierarchy, a few million yuan already qualified as a medium-sized project.

Meng Zuo had aimed for the Game Design Competition to secure the top spot—boosting his reputation within both the domestic gaming industry and NetDragon, and gaining access to better resources and funding for future projects.

Everything had been going smoothly—until Chen Xu suddenly announced he’d be entering a sci-fi game into the same competition.

That completely shattered Meng Zuo’s plans.

It wasn’t that Meng Zuo feared Chen Xu all that much.

In fact, he shared the general sentiment: how could Chen Xu possibly create anything substantial in such a short time?

But here was the problem—thanks to the massive success of Mirror (Game) and Undertale, Chen Xu had become a walking traffic magnet.

For gaming media, Chen Xu was traffic!

And for players, Undertale’s popularity still hadn’t faded. Every move Chen Xu made remained under intense scrutiny.

Even Zhong Mei’s sarcastic remarks, ironically, only added to Chen Xu’s online presence.

And that made things extremely awkward.

Meng Zuo’s Galaxy Heroes had specifically set aside a budget for promotion, which was already being implemented.

But now?

All the spotlight had been stolen!

It wasn’t like NetDragon lacked influence—they were one of the biggest channel providers in the country, and his studio operated under their umbrella.

But the channels were managed by the Operations Department, while his team was a separate R&D unit.

The Operations Department had no incentive to sacrifice their own performance to help his project.

Want to use NetDragon’s promotional channels?

No problem. Since you’re all colleagues under the same company, they’d give you a generous 9.9% internal discount.

What? No budget?

Then why are you even asking?

Get lost!

If you show up without money, do you think their performance metrics grow on trees?

Staring at headlines like 'Chen Xu’s New Work to Enter Sci-Fi Game Design Competition' and 'Is Chen Xu, Creator of Undertale, Getting Arrogant? A Game Is No Joke,' Meng Zuo felt his heart tremble.

His promotional budget was already minimal—now it felt like it had been completely wasted!

"Who did I offend?!" Meng Zuo clutched his chest, his face twisted in pain.

Looking at Chen Xu’s previous Weibo exchanges with Zhong Mei, for a split second, Meng Zuo considered @-mentioning Chen Xu to express his disdain for the new game, hoping to spark a public showdown that might boost his own game’s visibility.

But he stopped himself. It wasn’t because he feared losing—it was because he wasn’t like Zhong Mei.

Sure, Zhong Mei’s Hapai Culture & Sports was small—just an independent game workshop—but Zhong Mei himself was the boss.

Meng Zuo, on the other hand, was a producer under NetDragon. If he stepped out and started a public feud, he’d be finished.

After all, even ancient rebels needed a cause—'the court is corrupt, the emperor unjust!' 'Are kings and ministers born of noble blood?'

If he openly attacked Chen Xu, he might feel good in the moment, but the consequences would be disastrous.

Apologies would be the least of it. He feared players’ resentment toward NetDragon might shift onto him, and he’d end up carrying the blame not just for his own team, but for other internal departments too.

Meanwhile, others would keep earning their salaries, while he faced disciplinary actions—truly a tragedy that would move even bystanders to tears.

Losing the spotlight was already bad enough. Being made the scapegoat on top of that? Unthinkable.

But still…

It hurt.

Especially when Meng Zuo realized that Chen Xu, the one who started it all, was completely unaware of the situation. Chen Xu hadn’t even targeted him deliberately. That only deepened Meng Zuo’s sense of injustice.

How unfair was his situation?

Sure, 'A gentleman's revenge is never too late, even after ten years.' He couldn’t fully blame Chen Xu—but the connection was there.

In that moment, Meng Zuo began mentally picturing his future revenge.

"You stole my publicity heat? Fine. Then let’s settle this at the Game Design Competition—let the games speak for themselves!"

"Though I doubt your game will even pass Censorship, I still hope you manage to secure one of the lowest rankings. That way, you’ll be invited to the Game Department’s offline award ceremony."

"Then, I’ll shake your hand in front of countless players, Game Department leaders, and gaming media—with a smile on my face. I’ll say, 'Long admired you!' and praise your new game for being truly impressive!"

With a deep, envious breath, Meng Zuo closed the webpage, his mind lost in vivid mental visualization.

The red carpet. The media. The handshake. The speech. In one month, it would be his perfect day of revenge!

………………

In Nebula Games’ office, Chen Xu remained blissfully unaware that someone was already plotting his downfall.

Lately, he’d been swamped—juggling To the Moon’s development progress while conducting interviews for new hires.

He’d posted job listings across various forum communities in the gaming industry.

Thanks to the reputation of Undertale, the postings had indeed attracted many gaming industry professionals.

But very few met Chen Xu’s standards.

After reviewing all the applications, Chen Xu sighed. "Ah! Hiring is tough!"

His plan was to hire three more people for the development team: an art assistant to share the workload with himself and Ruan Ningxue, a Numerical Designer, and a levels designer.

But so far, he hadn’t found a single promising candidate.

Just then, two knocks came at the office door. After Chen Xu called out, the door opened, and a man in his thirties walked in.

Zhang Yida, the manager in charge of Nebula Games’ market operations—handling game promotion and business development.

"Mr. Chen, have we confirmed the contacts for the relevant personnel?" Zhang Yida asked, his expression a mix of admiration and hesitation.

"Yeah, go ahead and reach out," Chen Xu replied with a smile.

After a brief chat, Zhang Yida left the office.

Chen Xu turned back to his computer, refocusing on To the Moon’s development.

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