OGP CH63

Tuesday morning, Wings of Dream headquarters.

Tang Tonghai, CEO of Wings of Dream Games, summoned several of his confidants into his office and asked with a frown, “You’re all aware of the data for Yangfan Studio’s new game, right?”

The download counter on Mobile Home was visible right on the front end, open and transparent. The download metrics on Yangfan Studio’s official website, on the other hand, could not yet be tracked by outsiders.

Fang Jiming of the operations team estimated, “President Tang, combining both platforms, it should have already broken ten million.”

Tang Tonghai’s face darkened: “Ten million in three days?”

No one had expected that a shadow-dropped title without professional operations—or even a shred of marketing—could explode like this in just three short days.

Wings of Dream’s titles always relied on overwhelming marketing saturation to reel in players. They were accustomed to methodically burning money on game promotion: buying hot searches, coordinating press releases with media outlets…

They simply could not comprehend “the power of organic word-of-mouth.”

Fang Jiming had been closely tracking Journey to the West, keeping up with recent trending topics as well. He explained, “The game blew up because the animated story is captivating, with huge numbers of people begging for updates. Furthermore, the art style is unique and the 3D modeling is exceptionally detailed.”

Tang Tonghai raised an eyebrow and sneered coldly, “If you can’t find a way to deal with Xie Yunfan directly, can’t you target the people around him?”

The others exchanged glances, a chill instantly creeping up their spines.

Tang Tonghai, the incumbent CEO of Wings of Dream.

This man’s methods were notoriously cutthroat. In the process of expanding Wings of Dream, he had crushed countless small studios. He frequently acquired titles from struggling startups on the cheap, heavily butchering their core designs solely to optimize for aggressive monetization.

It could be said that Wings of Dream had clawed its way to the top by treading over the corpses of countless bankrupt boutique studios.

Had Xie Yunfan been willing to collaborate with Wings of Dream, they could have made money together in mutual harmony. But now, Xie Yunfan was clearly committed to independent development; aside from partnering with Qihang on a single holographic game, he developed and marketed everything else entirely on his own.

Tang Tonghai’s personal intervention made his stance clear: he would not sit by and watch Xie Yunfan grow into an industry titan, dividing the market’s limited pie.

The pool of video game players was finite. Gamers had grown accustomed to Wings of Dream’s pay-to-win mobile titles, normalized spending thousands of yuan to reforge gear stats, and routinely bought VIP diamond passes.

In the eyes of most players in this world, playing games was synonymous with spending money.

Xie Yunfan’s move of offering Chapter One for free download had severely disrupted the market equilibrium!

If allowed to expand unchecked, players would realize there existed such an ethical, conscientious game development studio in the industry. Who would still play Wings of Dream’s predatory cash-grabs then?

—In a world of crows, the swan is guilty.

An all-ages mobile game shadow-dropping onto the market for free download, amassing over ten million downloads in just three days, clearly possessed the momentum of a runaway sensation. Once Xie Yunfan played this first hand right, the expanding player base would only accelerate the game’s popularity down the line, potentially transforming it into a legendary national blockbuster.

He would never allow such a formidable competitor to rise.

Tang Tonghai handed a business card to his PR manager: “Yangfan Studio’s lead artist is named Ning Sha. She previously worked at a gaming company called X-ONE.”

The PR manager paused for a beat, then immediately nodded, “I know what to do.”

Meanwhile, inside the 18th-floor conference room at Yangfan Studio.

In high spirits, Xie Yunfan convened an all-hands meeting: “Our new game has achieved stellar results after three days on the market, surpassing ten million downloads. Thank you all for your hard work!”

Resounding applause erupted across the conference room.

Lately, everyone on the design and production teams had been closely monitoring the title. Seeing the deluge of glowing online reviews and relentless word-of-mouth recommendations across Moments, everyone was thrilled.

Being part of a project like this was a point of immense pride!

Xie Yunfan smiled, “Ten million downloads is just the beginning. Let’s keep up the momentum. Chapter Two is currently finished, so QA will need to run a few more rounds of stress testing. The other teams can press on with Chapter Three.”

Those seated below were energized, their drive revitalized.

After the meeting adjourned, each team returned to their respective offices and busied themselves once more.

Xie Yunfan had been maintaining rigorous oversight over development pacing.

When Chapter One passed regulatory review in mid-June, the production team was already rushing to produce Chapter Two. Now that Chapter Two had entered testing, the team immediately transitioned to Chapter Three.

Developing an episodic, story-driven title like this was an enormous test for the entire team. If a single department stumbled and delayed the schedule, the release window would fall through completely.

Fortunately, Xie Yunfan was exceptionally seasoned. He could always resolve friction between different departments swiftly and pinpoint optimal solutions.

He also frequently helped out the level design team; many stage mechanics and boss encounters originated directly from his creative concepts.

With him anchoring the helm, the core gameplay loop would never falter.

On the writing front, lead writer Ye Xiang was an experienced screenwriter after all. He structured the overarching narrative strictly according to the outline, streamlining the logic before handing it off to Zhou Shiyue to refine the dialogue and prose. By now, the writing team had already progressed to the Kingdom of Women.

On the art side, half of the NPCs for Chapter Three were already drawn.

The remaining teams were hard at work on Chapter Three as well.

Under Xie Yunfan’s direction, every department operated like clockwork.

Xie Yunfan stopped by the QA testing room.

Hu Fei was an account booster he had known early on, while Zhang Zizheng was his college classmate. Both were close friends with him and voiced feedback without reservation. Seeing them deep in gameplay testing, Xie Yunfan asked, “How does switching between the protagonist party members in Chapter Two feel?”

Hu Fei said, “Very interesting! But I feel it’s still not fluid enough.”

Zhang Zizheng loaded up a stage and said, “During this boss fight, the entire party is deployed. Playing as Monkey Bro feels great, but switching to Tang Seng stutters. There’s an issue with the code here.”

Having majored in game design, A-Zheng was not only a skilled gamer but also proficient in code. He highlighted several bugs for Xie Yunfan: “When switching here, the AI processing hangs. The skill algorithms clearly need optimization.”

QA Lead Huo Minghui suggested, “In Easy mode, players can just pilot Tang Seng and let the disciples do the fighting to clear stages mindlessly. But I think Tang Seng’s kit is too one-dimensional. Should we add a healing skill?”

Xie Yunfan pondered for a moment, “You mean making Tang Seng a team support? Giving him a heal in addition to his sutra-chanting buffs?”

Huo Minghui said, “It would add some actual agency to his gameplay. Otherwise, controlling Tang Seng feels too dull.”

Xie Yunfan nodded while jotting down their feedback.

There was still time before launch. The story animations and stages were fully built, and with testing in full swing, there was plenty of room to fine-tune details.

…

While Yangfan Studio was working around the clock, players of Journey to the West were replaying the game from the beginning.

Those who had chosen Easy mode on their first run switched to Normal or Challenge mode for their second; those who had skipped cutscenes to focus on gameplay went back to rewatch the story out of boredom.

Hardcore players who had cleared Challenge mode and seen all the cutscenes began thoroughly dissecting the “Seventy-Two Transformations” ability.

They discovered a clever trick in Stage 7.

After eating the immortal peaches and returning to Huaguo Mountain, Sun Wukong didn’t actually have to enter the Water Curtain Cave to trigger the cutscene.

The game’s overworld map was semi-open world! That meant as long as you didn’t trigger the main quest marker, you could roam freely—visiting the Dragon Palace, the Netherworld, or Mount Lingtai Fangcun!

Any map that had been unlocked could be revisited at will.

Many players disliked seeing the Great Sage pinned beneath the Five Elements Mountain, so they simply avoided returning to the Water Curtain Cave altogether, letting him live as a carefree, untamed monkey messing around with “Seventy-Two Transformations”!

For example, streamer Liu-ge turned Sun Wukong into a serpent, slithering through the thickets of Mount Lingtai Fangcun to check up on Grandmaster Bodhi, the master who had expelled him from the sect.

Streamer Mengtu turned the Great Sage into a fish and swam back to the Dragon Palace to admire the gorgeous coral reefs and seashells. Free of combat and patrol guards, the undersea scenery was truly breathtaking!

Others piloted the Great Sage to sneak back up to Heaven, discovering by surprise that with the celestial court thrown into disarray, the Peach Orchard was completely unguarded! Sneaking inside, they casually devoured all the unripe peaches as well.

Some even steered the Great Sage away from Huaguo Mountain to visit the Bull Demon King. Because they had sworn an oath of brotherhood, visiting him at this point prompted the Bull Demon King to host a feast in his honor.

Players marveled at the sheer volume of hidden Easter eggs tucked throughout the game!

Playing through just once made it impossible to catch everything.

This downtime between story drops prompted bored players to roam across the map with the Great Sage, unearthing all sorts of delightful secrets.

This was undeniably intentional on Yangfan Studio’s part.

While the narrative was thrilling, this was a video game after all, not merely a cartoon.

There was so much emergent gameplay waiting to be explored. Some players spent hours happily munching peaches in the orchard; others toured the Dragon Palace to admire the undersea vistas.

Others spent entire days just morphing back and forth with Seventy-Two Transformations!

Thanks to its immense replayability, even after Chapter One’s story wrapped up, numerous streamers gladly revisited past levels to discover novel ways to play.

Swinging from trees, touring the landscape as a bird…

This mobile title was even beginning to feel like an open-world adventure!

Across major streaming platforms, the hype for Journey to the West didn’t fade in the slightest; if anything, it soared higher.

Even anime-only fans demanding updates joined the ranks of gamers, guiding Monkey Bro across a free, unconstrained world.

Wednesday morning, total downloads for Journey to the West crossed 15 million.

Friday evening, downloads surpassed 20 million!

Over the weekend, a wave of working professionals discovered the title, while students previously burdened with weekday homework jumped on to download the game.

By Sunday night, downloads shattered the 30 million mark.

The game had achieved full takeoff, achieving a nationwide breakthrough within a single week!

Players eagerly awaited the launch of Chapter Two.

…

A week later, Yangfan Studio posted an official announcement:

“Dear players, testing for Journey to the West Chapter Two: Journey of Master and Disciples is complete. It will officially open for download on July 10 at 7:00 PM. Mobile Home and Yangfan Studio’s official website will update simultaneously.

Beginning with Chapter Two, the game will transition to a paid DLC download model.

Each chapter will cost 5 yuan. The game will feature around 81 stages in total across approximately 10 paid chapters, totaling 50 yuan, which will be released over the coming months.

Yangfan Studio’s mission is to create exquisite, deeply engaging games.

We guarantee that the animation quality and gameplay depth in upcoming paid chapters will meet or exceed the standards of the free chapter.

Thank you all for your continued support ^^”

This announcement immediately caused a huge stir.

Most players considered charging fees completely fair. After all, offering Chapter One as a free trial was already extraordinarily generous—how could they expect everything to be free?

Yangfan Studio was running a business, not a charity.

It was obvious that a small fortune had been poured into the animation alone. Despite astronomical downloads for Stages 1 through 7, Yangfan Studio hadn’t made a single cent. Charging a modest 5 yuan for Chapter Two was the very definition of a conscientious pricing model.

Some reacted with cynical mockery:

[Asking for money already? A bit hasty, aren’t we!]

[Chapter Two is paid? Forget it, not playing anymore.]

[Clearly overestimated you guys; you’re just as obsessed with money as the rest!]

[Fattened up the chives, now it’s time to harvest, huh?]

Yet many rational gamers voiced their support in the Weibo comments:

[All 10 chapters combined only cost 50 yuan, that’s dirt cheap!]

[Is the Great Sage not worth five measly yuan to you? If anything, it’s underpriced.]

[A casual monthly diamond pass in a Wings of Dream game costs 60 yuan, for heaven’s sake!]

[In this day and age, a full game for 50 yuan isn’t considered conscientious enough?]

[Anyone who actually plays games knows this pricing is a steal!]

[What does 50 yuan even buy in other games, honestly? Mindless haters.]

[I’m actually worried LittleSailboat is going to bankrupt himself at this rate…]

In truth, Xie Yunfan kept the price low largely to accommodate the massive demographic of children playing the game.

Kids had limited pocket money. If priced too high, parents might hesitate to buy it for them. At 5 yuan per chapter—the cost of a pack of snacks—most parents wouldn’t mind indulging their kids.

A lower price point also fostered high volume with slender margins. The conversion rate across this massive player base would be exceptionally high. The larger the audience, the more lucrative future merchandise licensing and IP expansion would be.

His primary objective was to elevate Journey to the West into a “national mobile game,” ensuring everyone could afford it and enjoy it, cementing Tang Seng and his disciples as timeless gaming and animation icons.

Once the cultural prestige was established, why worry about long-term monetization?

…

Following Yangfan Studio’s announcement, countless players left eager comments, counting down to July 10 to download Chapter Two and continue the Great Sage’s journey.

Yet that very evening, a bizarre topic suddenly skyrocketed up the trending charts.

#JourneyToTheWestConceptArtPlagiarism#

The topic had been published by a marketing account named “Gaming Horizon.”

He had screenshotted a piece of concept art of a Dragon Palace monster from Journey to the West and compared it side-by-side with an artwork found on an online platform, concluding that it was blatant plagiarism!

Within ten minutes, the topic rocketed onto Weibo’s hot search. Flocks of marketing accounts joined in to fan the flames, and swarms of uninformed digital artists chimed in, proclaiming their “boycott against plagiarism.”

Countless players were bewildered. Clicking into the topic…

The two pieces were undeniably nearly identical. Did they really copy it?

[Isn’t Yangfan Studio’s art team going to explain this?]

[Who drew this piece? Blatant tracing, completely shameless!]

[How does LittleSailboat have an employee who plagiarizes?]

[Art team, step up and apologize!]

Stepping out of the shower at 10:00 PM, Xie Yunfan found his phone blowing up with notifications. Several missed calls were all from Ning Sha.

Puzzled, he answered, “Sister Sha?”

The usually composed Ning Sha sounded audibly strained, on the verge of tears: “B-Boss, have you seen the trending topics?”

Realizing something was wrong, Xie Yunfan said calmly, “Don’t panic yet. What happened?”

Taking a deep breath, Ning Sha explained in a trembling voice, “Before resigning, I spent a few years at a company called X-ONE. Their game was titled Interstellar Monsters, and I was responsible for monster concept art back then. Many drawings remained with my former employer.”

Xie Yunfan asked, “And then?”

Ning Sha continued, “The drawing circulating on Weibo was a personal sketch I drew casually while searching for inspiration. I never submitted it to my former company, so it was strictly my private draft. When designing the Dragon Palace crab mobs this time, I subconsciously drew a crab with a similar silhouette. Both drawings were done by my own hand, which is why the resemblance is so striking. But they dug it up and are calling it plagiarism…”

Xie Yunfan understood completely.

Even if it were plagiarism, it was Ning Sha plagiarizing herself.

Besides, it wasn’t plagiarism at all. The private sketch was never transferred to her former employer, meaning the copyright remained entirely with her, giving her full liberty to use it however she pleased. Even if she had reused it directly, it wouldn’t be an issue—so how could this be plagiarism?

The strange part was that so much time had elapsed that Ning Sha herself had nearly forgotten about it. Where did this Weibo marketing account dig up that drawing?

Fabricating this kind of negative PR precisely when Chapter Two was about to launch—the timing was far too calculated!

Xie Yunfan quickly deduced the angle and asked calmly, “When you worked at your former company, did you ever show your personal sketches to any close colleagues?”

Ning Sha searched her memory, and a sudden chill ran down her spine: “I was mentoring an apprentice back then.”

Xie Yunfan: “You showed it to your apprentice?”

Her face pale, Ning Sha nodded, “Her name is Xiaoxue, an art student. I mentored her in concept art and even gave her that sketch to practice tracing and copying.”

Xie Yunfan asked, “Do you still have the chat logs with that apprentice?”

Ning Sha replied hastily, “Yes, I do.”

Xie Yunfan: “Record a screen capture and send it to me.”

Ning Sha immediately recorded her chat logs with her apprentice from two years ago and forwarded the video to Xie Yunfan. Fortunately, the chat history showing her sending the image for the apprentice to practice tracing was intact; otherwise, it would have been near impossible to clear her name.

She had mentored that apprentice wholeheartedly, never expecting to be backstabbed by the very girl she trained.

In commercial art, plagiarism was the ultimate taboo. Once a plagiarism scandal broke, many companies chose to “sacrifice the pawn to protect the king,” firing the employee to appease players and safeguard the game’s reputation.

She had no idea how her boss would handle this…

With an uneasy heart, Ning Sha asked, “Boss, do you believe me?”

Xie Yunfan smiled, “Of course. Given your caliber, there’s no reason to plagiarize a minor mob’s concept art. Don’t make any public statements; I’ll handle this.”

Ning Sha exhaled a small sigh of relief: “Alright, thank you, Boss.”

…

After hanging up, Xie Yunfan sent a message to Luo Hang: “Seen the trending topics?”

Luo Hang: “I saw it. Who drew that concept art? Genuine plagiarism or a setup?”

Xie Yunfan replied helplessly: “Ning Sha drew it; it’s a setup. Who do you think is behind this?”

Luo Hang pondered and deduced: “Most likely President Tang’s doing. He’s crushed numerous studios through smear campaigns. Your presence probably makes him feel threatened.”

Xie Yunfan sent a smiley emoji: “Then I’m quite honored.”

To actually force the big boss of Wings of Dream out into the open.

Such underhanded methods were truly venomous.

However, President Tang likely failed to realize that Xie Yunfan was no naive novice.

Having weathered countless smears and betrayals in his previous life, Xie Yunfan was intimately familiar with the dirty tricks of his peers. From the moment Journey to the West was greenlit, he had been guarding against maneuvers like this.

Since he planned to serialize animations inside the game, the concept art and 3D modeling could not afford the slightest controversy; otherwise, it would compromise the game’s reputation and drag down the image of the Great Sage Equal to Heaven.

Xie Yunfan placed a direct call to Lawyer Zou.

Lawyer Zou asked in surprise, “Yunfan? Calling so late—is there an emergency?”

Xie Yunfan said, “Lawyer Zou, I need to release a lawyer’s statement immediately. Someone is fabricating rumors that our studio’s artist committed plagiarism, and I have comprehensive evidence on hand.”

Lawyer Zou understood: “Understood. The firm’s official seal is with me; I’ll draft the statement for you right now.”

Xie Yunfan added, “Furthermore, I want to formally sue that Weibo marketing account. His repost count has already exceeded ten thousand, severely damaging my studio’s reputation.”

Lawyer Zou was taken aback: “You want to file a lawsuit directly?”

Xie Yunfan replied decisively, “Yes, no need to show leniency. Please secure the chain of evidence as quickly as possible. He hasn’t deleted the Weibo post yet, so we have him red-handed. I’m placing this case fully in your hands. The marketing account’s IP address is in the Imperial Capital, so I may have to trouble you to take a business trip there.”

Lawyer Zou couldn’t help but ask, “Why do I feel like you were already prepared for this?”

Every step of this workflow seemed remarkably practiced.

Xie Yunfan gave a wry smile, “With my game blowing up, I have to guard against underhanded tactics from rivals. Consider this killing the chicken to scare the monkeys; any marketing account trying to steer toxic public opinion is welcome to try—I’ll sue every last one of them.”

Lawyer Zou greatly admired Xie Yunfan’s decisive, no-nonsense style.

Back when the Xie brothers traveled to the Imperial Capital to negotiate with Qihang, they had hired him to review contracts and retained him as Yangfan Studio’s legal counsel.

During this time, he had been collecting retainer fees from Yangfan Studio with virtually nothing to do, drafting only a few employment contracts during recruitment.

Who knew real work would arrive this quickly?

Litigation was his specialty. With an airtight chain of evidence, winning this case was a foregone conclusion.

Lawyer Zou said readily, “Understood. I’ll draft the lawyer’s letter immediately and record screen captures for evidence. Tomorrow I’ll fly to the Imperial Capital to subpoena Weibo for the personal information of the marketing accounts with the highest repost counts. Filing the suit and heading to court will take time, so we’ll take it step by step.”

Xie Yunfan said, “That’s fine. The verdict can wait, but our response must be immediate.”

Letting toxic rumors fester would mislead the public.

He had to act within the golden window of crisis PR.

Half an hour later, Yangfan Studio published an official statement:

“Regarding the alleged concept art plagiarism in Journey to the West, following an urgent investigation, the studio has clarified the facts: The concept art in question is a personal draft created by our studio’s artist during her tenure at her previous employer, with copyright belonging entirely to the artist herself. The alleged ‘original work’ was in fact the artist’s own creation, stolen and uploaded to the internet without authorization; allegations of plagiarism are entirely unfounded.

Weibo user ‘Gaming Horizon’ publicly fabricated rumors of plagiarism before establishing the facts, severely damaging Yangfan Studio’s reputation.

The studio has retained Lawyer Zou Zhicheng of Nantian Law Firm to preserve all video evidence and will initiate legal proceedings in due course. We will utilize legal measures to defend our studio’s reputation.

The internet is not a lawless realm. We urge netizens to refrain from spreading unverified information.”

The post was accompanied by a stamped attorney’s statement, as well as a side-by-side progression breakdown of both artworks, proving they were drawn by the same hand.

The players who had been feeling anxious were stunned.

[Holy crap, this PR response speed is insane!]

[A resolution already? I haven’t even finished grabbing my popcorn!]

[My bad, got too heated earlier and blamed the artist unjustly!]

[Releasing a legal statement overnight and filing a lawsuit directly?]

[LittleSailboat, you are unyielding!]

[As expected of the studio behind our Great Sage—pure steel spine!]

[I thought they’d pull the classic ‘it was the rogue action of an individual employee’ routine, but they straight up sued?]

[Did Yangfan Studio fire their artist? Nope, they sued the marketing account~]

[Sue them! Sue those smear trolls into oblivion!]

[Boss 666!]

At this moment, everyone in the studio was closely watching the unfolding crisis.

No one expected the boss’s crisis management to be this swift!

In just thirty minutes: legal statements, video evidence secured…

And he was actually filing a lawsuit to defend their rights?

Boss, you’re way too cool!

As employees of Yangfan Studio, everyone felt deeply moved.

Ning Sha in particular sat before her computer monitor, unable to keep her eyes from tearing up.

At other companies, they might have fired her on the spot just to appease player outrage. Yet not only did her boss refrain from blaming her, but upon uncovering the truth, he went so far as to sue the smear account on her behalf!

With a boss this dependable, she truly hadn’t misjudged him when joining.

Xie Yunfan’s swift and decisive actions seemed to deliver an unspoken message to everyone: as long as you do your work diligently, I will never let you suffer injustice.

I will protect you all.