Chapter Eighty-One: The Traitor

Within the core group of the Dragon Alliance, almost all the members were administrators and leaders of major alliances.

“I’m about to cough up blood. How can that guy have so much draft stock? This month I’ve averaged ten thousand words a day, and he’s managed eighteen thousand—completely crushing me. My drafts ran out halfway through the month, so for more than ten consecutive days now, I’ve had to write ten thousand words every day. Just to make it look better, I even split my three-thousand-word chapters into two-thousand-five-hundred-word ones, updating four times a day. But he’s unshakable—three thousand words per chapter, at least five chapters daily,” complained Shenlong, utterly miserable.

“Don’t lose heart, Shenlong. The double vote period hasn’t even started. He’s just relying on his drafts to keep up with you. Besides, the real members of the Bear Alliance are practically out of ammunition by now. It’s mostly other big authors’ fans helping them out,” someone comforted him.

“That’s right. We Dragon Alliance members have a million fans. If those big authors hadn’t been intimidated by us before, they wouldn’t have banded together to help this newcomer.”

“Shenlong, I sense something’s off. In previous monthly ticket battles, the official staff would at least support us a bit, but this time, there’s no movement at all.”

“……”

The group continued their discussion.

Suddenly, Shenlong spoke coldly, “Let’s keep tonight’s conversation to ourselves. Don’t go spreading rumors that the website is favoring that newcomer. We’ll make our move in the final two days when the double monthly votes start. For now, just stay close behind them.”

Su Tong uploaded several dozen chapters’ worth of drafts in one go, set the schedule for three days’ updates, and then stopped paying attention to the monthly ticket contest. Instead, he began browsing the internet for information about this world.

The more Su Tong explored, the more he realized the possibilities for development here. Not only were many classic songs and movies from his previous life missing, but even the hit variety shows were absent.

In his past life, Su Tong had loved watching science fiction blockbusters. Arriving in this world, he felt as if it were waiting for him to transform it, just as the lyrics in “I Believe” suggest.

“Iron Man,” “Spider-Man,” “Avatar,” “Jurassic Park,” the “Fast & Furious” series—none of these classics existed here.

But after the initial excitement, Su Tong faced reality: even if he had the scripts, the money, and could direct and star in these films himself, he had no way to recreate those Hollywood blockbusters.

The special effects technology of the Great Qin Empire was simply too poor. Their attempts at sci-fi or fantasy films were so bad that, as a former fan who had appreciated Hollywood’s technical prowess, Su Tong found them unbearable to watch.

“Little Devil, isn’t it frustrating to be sitting on a mountain of gold and silver and not be able to use it?” Su Tong complained to the Little Devil.

The Little Devil, however, sneered, “The time hasn’t come yet. You haven’t survived the system’s trial—why are you already thinking about the future? Let me assure you, once you get through it, the technology system will let you exchange for whatever you need. You won’t have to go to Hollywood to shoot world-class blockbusters. In the Great Qin Empire, you’ll create China’s own Hollywood and attract top actors from all over the world.”

Su Tong shuddered—not out of fear for the system’s trial, but because the future described by the Little Devil was so shocking.

To build another Hollywood in Great Qin!

Such an ambitious dream was beyond the imagination of any major conglomerate. Hollywood’s industrial chain was too mature and powerful; more importantly, their post-production movie technology was unmatched.

Without the technology, it’s like an airplane sitting idly on the ground—unable to fly, just a heap of scrap metal.

Hollywood’s science fiction blockbusters relied on superb computer technology to present those magnificent, awe-inspiring scenes that could truly move audiences.

“That’s a distant goal. Hollywood took decades, with countless resources and experience from major corporations and consortia to reach its current state. Take it step by step. You should be able to achieve this in your lifetime,” said the Little Devil.

Su Tong breathed a sigh of relief. True enough, setting that as a goal right now was too much pressure. It would be like trying to fly before learning to walk—asking for trouble.

For now, the most important thing was to keep building his popularity while continuing his training with the system.

Both the Little Devil and Su Tong knew that if he stopped working hard now, the system would surely issue a deadly side quest and abandon him as a host.

Checking the trending topics on Weibo, Su Tong found that the hottest discussions lately were all about Qin Island.

Victory Day had passed just over half a month ago, and National Day was approaching. Anti-Qin Island sentiments were everywhere online.

Yet under these circumstances, some professors and journalists were still fawning over Qin Island, calling on the people of Great Qin to uphold the nation’s traditional virtues and build a bright future together with the people of Qin Island.

“We can’t live in the past forever. We should look to the future. Living in hatred will only blind us to reality. Great Qin has a long and profound civilization, with enduring traditions of tolerance and magnanimity. If we truly hate Qin Island, then why do we curse it and still use its products? Are you all afraid to face reality?” said Professor Ma of a certain university.

“The Prime Minister of Qin Island visits their war dead to honor their ancestors and remember their roots. We of Great Qin build memorials to commemorate the heroes of the Resistance, to thank those who planted the trees whose shade we enjoy today... There is no right or wrong, only different perspectives. The relationship between Qin Island and Great Qin grows ever friendlier—this is something to celebrate. Why argue every day—does it make life any better?” said a reporter from a Qin newspaper owned by a Qin Island corporation, addressing the angry netizens.

“Forget hatred? Would you still talk about letting bygones be bygones if I murdered your parents?”

“No right or wrong? So if I insult you, there’s no right or wrong, just a different stance? You grovel to Qin Island, so you’re a traitor, and I am a true son of Qin.”

“What utter nonsense! Professor Ma and the pro-Qin Island newspaper—you’re fooling no one. Just shut up. No one will mistake your silence for stupidity.”

“How much did you get paid to speak for Qin Island? Let’s expose you, block your workplace and your home.”

“It’s people like you who turn Great Qin into a mess. Please emigrate and go cause trouble elsewhere. Don’t embarrass us at home.”

“……”

The netizens were furious, rage flooding all of Weibo and every major forum. The Qin Island section, filled with pro-Qin Island traitors, was bombed repeatedly, and the conflict spread across the entire internet.

Su Tong was deeply incensed. Truly, there were all kinds of people in the world. How could anyone forget the hatred born of history? Even if everyone from Qin Island knelt before him, he wouldn’t care for them—let alone when they refused to apologize and even vilified the people of Great Qin, calling them uncivilized and poorly educated.

What angered Su Tong even more was the abundance of traitors in Great Qin. Pro-Qin, pro-Qin—pro your sister!

“This time, I have to change my speech for the school’s contest,” Su Tong said furiously. His previous speech in the college selection round had been rather conventional; he decided that for the university-wide competition, he would deliver a new one.