After finishing this opening, Cui Geng contentedly opened the backend and published it to Endpoint Chinese Network.
According to his plan, the entire story was roughly divided into four to five parts, and this opening was just a teaser. The real content of the first part would officially begin next.
Actually, Cui Geng could have chosen to focus on creation, writing about a hundred thousand words before publishing everything at once, but after considering it, he ultimately decided to continue with his previous writing habits—serializing in real time and publishing as he wrote.
On one hand, the backend calculated royalties based on the word count officially published on Endpoint Chinese Network. On the other hand, he wanted to see readers’ reactions and adjust some detailed content in the novel accordingly.
Of course, Cui Geng was also well psychologically prepared.
The story of “The Successor” takes place in a foreign setting, the protagonist is a rich kid, and he’s particularly despicable. The entire novel tells the story of how a second-generation rich kid born with a silver spoon, using extremely underhanded methods, successfully seizes power through loopholes in the superhero system, doing evil deeds all along.
This basically goes against the current mainstream tastes of web novel readers. Whether it’s the protagonist’s background, personality, or the entire story’s core—everything is a minus.
If Cui Geng had to choose a theme and write for revenue sharing himself, he would absolutely never dare to write this theme, because writing it would be like committing suicide.
But now that Mr. Pei was buying out by word count, Cui Geng could boldly let loose. He no longer needed to be constrained by the original rules and regulations but could boldly spread his wings and fly.
Although this kind of author-liberation often ends badly, if all authors forever stayed trapped within rigid frameworks and never dared to try, how could they possibly write something different?
Cui Geng increasingly felt that Mr. Pei’s buyout policy was clearly hinting to authors like them who had already figured out web novel writing patterns: I’ll provide you with a safety net, go ahead and explore freely, write even better works!
After uploading the opening, it still needed some time for review.
Cui Geng quietly closed the website and went out for dinner.
Earlier, he had been struck by inspiration and was extremely urgent to write down what was in his mind, so he had temporarily forgotten his hunger. Now that the story’s opening was written, Cui Geng’s procrastinating nature returned with vengeance, suddenly feeling ravenous.
…
…
February 11th, Saturday.
Pei Qian again slept until he woke naturally, turning over and sitting up in bed, yawning.
This week he had been non-stop giving work assignments to several departments, each day’s working hours nearly reaching six hours, quite intensive. Naturally, on the weekend, he needed to rest well.
After ordering some Slackin’ takeout, Pei Qian took out his phone and aimlessly browsed, wanting to see if there was any recent news.
“Hm? Cui Geng started a new book last night?”
“And some other ‘Inspiration Class’ authors also started new books?”
“The ‘Inspiration Class’ has only been running for two days, and these people already started new books? Could the ‘Inspiration Class’ have really inspired them?”
“Don’t mess with me!”
Pei Qian instantly became tense, as if facing a great enemy.
These “Inspiration Class” authors had all signed new buyout contracts to write custom works related to Tenda IPs. And in just two days, they had already conceived their content?
Something’s not right!
Pei Qian hurriedly and anxiously clicked on the new books opened by several “Inspiration Class” authors.
But after looking at the comments section, he immediately relaxed.
The comments section was very noisy!
The Inspiration Class authors’ new novels had various themes: some writing Tenda game fanfiction, some writing Hurricane Comics superhero fanfiction, and some writing GOG hero background stories…
But readers basically weren’t buying it.
After all, they’re web novel authors who originally wrote only within the web novel circle, whether it was cultivation, fantasy, or urban genres. All their accumulated experience was in web novel writing.
Now suddenly starting to write custom works, with dramatically reduced update speeds, would naturally cause dissatisfaction among their original readers.
Many readers even felt they were cashing in on their reputation, thinking Endpoint Chinese Network’s buyout plan was “severing ties with the people,” with old readers very disappointed and dropping the books one after another.
Looking at various metrics, these newly published books showed a cliff-like drop compared to the authors’ old books’ data.
In comparison, Cui Geng’s new book “The Successor” received the least criticism. Based on comments, it was basically split fifty-fifty: some readers said this was a novel theme that caught their attention and looked forward to future content; while other readers said they weren’t interested in this theme and hoped Cui Geng would go back to writing urban genres.
These authors didn’t respond in the comments section—probably nothing to respond to. The books were already started, openings written; even if some people didn’t like them, they had to continue writing.
Pei Qian couldn’t help feeling elated.
“I knew having these web novel authors write buyouts would work! Look, the masses have sharp eyes!”
Following the current trend, these “Inspiration Class” authors’ books would definitely attract few readers, unable to bring traffic to Endpoint Chinese Network, essentially making Pei Qian pay royalties for nothing.
Of course, according to regulations, these authors could write at most two buyout books. If they didn’t perform well, they’d have to go back to revenue sharing. But that didn’t matter—after all, these buyout books wouldn’t exceed 500,000 words each. Even writing two books, a million words, before returning to revenue sharing wouldn’t greatly impact the authors.
And all buyout books were free for readers, so neither authors nor readers would suffer losses. Mr. Pei just paid more royalties and spent money on the “Inspiration Class,” making everyone happy.
Pei Qian felt much more at ease about the “Inspiration Class” and Endpoint Chinese Network, temporarily setting this matter aside.
He continued browsing recent news on his phone.
“Hm? Erik finally started throwing money around!”
Pei Qian was overjoyed.
On the Chinese server ioi official website, they released the latest version’s updates and operation plans. The content involved many aspects but could all be summed up in two words: “throwing money”!
According to the official announcement, all ioi heroes in the Chinese server would be completely free, all skin base prices reduced to 30% of original prices, compensation based on previously purchased heroes and skins calculated in currency, plus various preferential policies for returning veteran players and new player registration!
This level of discounts was unprecedented.
More importantly, these discounts weren’t just for the Chinese server—ioi’s global server received the same updates, with skin prices similarly plummeting.
Obviously, Erik had learned from previous experience.
To fight a price war, go all the way. If you can’t immediately bring ioi heroes and skin prices to the same level as GOG, then better not to lower them at all. Not only would it fail to attract players, it would reduce revenue—lose-lose.
After price cuts, veteran players’ interests also needed attention. Compensation had to be sufficient, or it would accelerate core player loss.
After Erik returned to manage the Chinese server, he didn’t repeat Zhao Xunming’s previous mistakes.
From online feedback from ioi players, the immediate effect of this price war was clear to see.
“Finger Company finally regained their intelligence! Finally stopped making mind-numbing moves!”
“Indeed, this discount level is decent. Compensation for veteran players is proper too. That previous price cut was like handouts for beggars!”
“But lowering prices both domestically and internationally, this discount rate… Finger Company’s revenue is going to plummet!”
“Finger Company: Right, right, you all won, we’re almost bankrupt.”
“Dream on—how could Finger Company lose money? They’re backed by the Dayak Group, swimming in cash. Besides, this money-burning is for market share. Low profit margins still attract more skin purchases, definitely profitable long-term. Maintaining original prices would be slow death!”
This time, ioi players were jubilant, with many feeling that China’s ioi would finally rise up.
To be fair, ioi’s game quality wasn’t bad. The reason it fell behind GOG mainly lay in gameplay details, pricing strategy, and promotion.
Now, through price wars, ioi reached the same level as GOG—definitely major good news.
While GOG veterans unlikely to switch to ioi, there were still new players joining!
Currently, the MOBA player base was still expanding, with many who’d never touched MOBA games. ioi mainly targeted this demographic.
With this money splash, the long competition between ioi and GOG regained suspense.
Pei Qian was very pleased—Erik cooperated so well!
With Finger Company burning money so desperately, Tenda had reason to burn money too!
Previously, Pei Qian had aided ioi by deliberately reassigning half of Shangyang Games’ staff (responsible for GOG international server) to update Tenda’s old games, essentially fighting ioi with one hand tied, afraid of accidentally crushing ioi.
Now, he could finally increase intensity!
But Pei Qian carefully considered and felt he shouldn’t get too excited. Still needed some restraint, couldn’t drain the pond to catch fish.
Burn just slightly less money than ioi, do slightly worse promotion. This way, Erik would always see hope of turning the tables, happily burning money together with Pei Qian.
The more Pei Qian thought about it, the happier he became, humming a tune.
With Erik’s help, great things were possible!
…
Meanwhile, in a tourist city in America, nearing late night.
Bao Xu and Ye Zhizhou and others had just finished touring another scenic spot today, returning to the hotel to rest.
Since the hotel had a sauna, everyone wrapped in towels went to steam away fatigue before sleeping.
In the vapor-filled sauna room, Bao Xu leaned against the corner wall, his entire expression one of lifeless despair.
While steaming could relieve physical fatigue, Bao Xu’s mental exhaustion was beyond salvation.
Now he was like a walking corpse, mechanically completing daily itineraries, feeling even one extra word was superfluous. He just wanted to immediately return to Jingzhou and hibernate for months.
Ye Zhizhou and Min Jingchao chatted casually.
Ye Zhizhou said, “On the way back, I saw news that Finger Company is finally price-warring with us. All heroes completely free, all skin prices dropped to 30% of original…”
Min Jingchao nodded, “Yeah, I noticed too.”
These two—one responsible for GOG development and Chinese server operations, the other for GOG overseas server operations—paid special attention to such information, learning about Finger Company’s moves immediately.
Ye Zhizhou looked slightly worried, “They come with ill intent.”
“Short-term, Finger Company’s revenue will definitely drop. But with Finger Company, especially their backing Dayak Group, having deep pockets, they have money to burn.”
“This challenge is more severe than previous ones.”
Min Jingchao nodded, “Yeah, Finger Company does have smart people. Dayak Group truly deserves being a massive multinational corporation. After repeated battles with Mr. Pei, though never winning, persisting this long while mounting such strong resistance is impressive.”
Since joining Tenda, they’d witnessed multiple business wars.
Whether games or other fields, Mr. Pei was always victorious. Almost everyone who dared oppose Mr. Pei ended in crushing defeat.
The difference was, most companies went silent after defeat, never again threatening Tenda, while only Finger Company and Dayak Group persisted until now.
From this perspective, they were indeed more troublesome than previous enemies.
Ye Zhizhou said, “This time Finger Company launched a price war, harder to deal with than before.”
“Previously, whether developing gameplay or running GPL tournaments, Mr. Pei won through vision and strategy. But once involving funds, Tenda doesn’t have the advantage.”
“Indeed, when competition reaches fever pitch, it’s about who has deeper pockets.”
Min Jingchao nodded, “True, for Dayak Group and Finger Company, this should be their last move. They have no better options but price war.”
“However…”
“I trust Mr. Pei. Whatever methods Finger Company thinks up, Mr. Pei will definitely have countermeasures!”
Ye Zhizhou: “Wonder what kind of countermeasures.”
Min Jingchao sighed, “How could we possibly guess Mr. Pei’s methods?”
“But the mystery will soon be revealed.”
“Our vacation’s almost over too. Let’s gather ourselves and throw ourselves fully into work upon return, fully supporting Mr. Pei in the final battle against Dayak Group!”
Ye Zhizhou nodded, “Yeah, exactly my thoughts!”
“I kind of understand Big Brother Bao now. Work too long and you want to go out, play, relax. But if you keep playing outside, that’s torture too.”
“This vacation, I’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself. Now I can’t wait to jump back into work immediately!”