下载大智慧经典版

Midway through watering, he whimsically divined his fortune and then donned casual sportswear to stroll at a leisurely pace towards the city center, arriving at the underground McDonald’s at the center’s subway plaza at precisely eleven thirteen.

Checking the time, he ordered two classic grilled chicken burgers, ten pieces of McNuggets, and a large fries under the eager greeting of the staff. He then sat by the window, quietly waiting while nibbling on fries and munching on burgers.

At eleven thirty, a middle-aged man in a white T-shirt entered and, after purchasing a Coke, he sat diagonally opposite Fang Cheng.

Unaware of the diagonal opposite him, the man took out his phone and dialed a number—Fang Cheng’s phone on the table simultaneously began to vibrate.

The sudden sound startled the middle-aged man, causing his knee to inadvertently knock into the small table. The Coke on it bounced high before it was deftly caught by Fang Cheng just before hitting the ground.

Placing the Coke back across the middle-aged man, Fang Cheng smiled, answered his phone, and put it to his ear, “Hello, this is Fang Cheng. It’s our first meeting, you must be Sun Jue, the owner of Feixiang Studio, right?” Hang up the call. Under the other’s stunned gaze, Fang Cheng took his tray and slowly finished another classic grilled chicken burger.

As he ate, Sun Jue’s face showed astonishment as he sized up Fang Cheng sitting in front of him, the confusion in his mind nearly spilling out.

Why was this man here?

How did he know to call him here?

Why had he chosen the seat diagonally opposite him?

His head swam with questions, and he ultimately arrived at one conclusion.

“You’ve been following me!” Sun Jue exclaimed.

“What do you think?” Fang Cheng replied as he picked up the second burger.

The ambiguous answer put Sun Jue on high alert.

According to his calculations, Fang Cheng should be in his own studio, still unsure whether to save Huang Ping or abandon him. Whatever his choice, Sun Jue would leverage his extensive experience to get Fang Cheng to play to his rhythm.

Afterward, with a bit of cajoling and deceiving, this talented yet socially inexperienced studio head would be led right into his trap and be persuaded to sell “Quiet Cultivation,” with thanks owed to Sun Jue afterward.

Yet now, the sudden appearance of Fang Cheng had disrupted all his plans, making him feel that the young man before him was enigmatic and possessed an extraordinary energy.

He even suspected that there might be corporate espionage among his staff, someone secretly selling out his movements.

Damn, why had a regular business acquisition turned into a mystery thriller?

Habitually biting down on his straw, he didn’t drink the Coke but instead chewed the straw in his mouth, distorting its shape to ease the anxiety from his nicotine withdrawal.

After calming himself down, he looked at Fang Cheng and said seriously, “The letter of attorney…”

“Let’s not talk about such useless things and get to the heart of the matter,” Fang Cheng replied, cutting him off.

Sun Jue was taken aback once more, his momentum vanishing instantly.

He was the producer of a large company, someone whom even the president would greet with a smile.

Yet in front of Fang Cheng, he felt himself at a disadvantage.

Fang Cheng’s mysteriousness made it difficult for him to gauge the other’s true intentions, forcing him to gather his strength again before he finally said, “I’m thinking of offering…”

” ‘Quiet Cultivation’ has sold three million copies to date, with a profit of about 240 million thus far. The game is predicted to reach ten million sales this year, and if an international version is launched, the revenue would be even higher,” Fang Cheng said, crumpling the burger wrapper and tossing it effortlessly into the trash can ten meters away.

Slowly wiping his hands with a napkin, Fang Cheng smiled and continued, “If you want to acquire it, how much are you prepared to offer?”

Before the other could respond, Fang Cheng seemed to remember something and added, “We also have passes that go on sale every month on the fifteenth, with about forty percent of players willing to buy and continue to do so. How much do you think that’s worth?”

In this moment, the plight of mortals before an Immortal was unmistakably exposed.

If he wished, Fang Cheng could easily hear the other person’s inner voice, discern their emotions from their heartbeat, and his powerful calculating abilities could even predict what they were planning to do next.

In front of an Immortal, all mortal affairs were an open book.

However, normally, Fang Cheng didn’t like to pay such close attention, after all, he considered himself to be in the game of life, and allowing himself some confusion helped him appreciate the joy of playing, thereby creating better games.

He activated his abilities now to experience the feeling of asymmetric information in war, but soon realized that making players too omniscient wasn’t good; the game seemed to lack difficulty.

Back in his days at Tianxiong, Mr. Shen had repeatedly emphasized that overly simple games lacked interest, and now Fang Cheng deeply agreed.

Unlike Fang Cheng, who was trying to enjoy the war, Sun Jue sitting opposite him was nearly at his breaking point.

The negotiation rhythm he prided himself on was completely shattered, and everything he wanted to say was guessed by the young man in front of him.

Sitting across from him, he suspected even the color of his underwear was known to the other party, leaving him only with endless humiliation.

Forcing a twisted smile, he looked at Fang Cheng and said, “Mr. Fang… aren’t you afraid…”

“Not afraid.”

“I haven’t even…”

“Isn’t it about accusing us of plagiarism?”

“Why do you…”

“Your cards are just that, easily guessed. So, do you have any other cards up your sleeve?”

Standing up with a smile, Fang Cheng spoke to Sun Jue, whose face was ashen and who was slightly trembling, not daring to look at him from beginning to end, “Thank you, you’ve made me realize how boring an overwhelming battle can be. I look forward to your attacking me in other ways, you’re always welcome.”

After eating the last french fry, Fang Cheng patted Sun Jue on the shoulder in a friendly manner, then picked up his tray and left.

Although Fang Cheng had left the place, Sun Jue still didn’t dare to move.

They had only been in contact for a brief half hour, but that crushing pressure, as if the great Mount Tai was bearing down, still lingered as if the other had never left.

Sitting in a daze for an hour, Sun Jue finally dared to reach out for the cola placed in front of him.

The cola had gone flat, the ice had melted, and the temperature had risen, making this glass of cola particularly unpleasant to drink.

But he still sipped at the cola as if it were the only thing he could drink before his imminent demise.

At the same time, he could not help but start to recount Fang Cheng’s words.

Every word, every phrase, every tone was as if it had been chiseled into his brain with a chisel, impossible to forget even if he wanted to.

Just then, the phone rang; the secretary’s voice appeared in his ear: “Boss, you finally answered the phone. Didn’t you go to negotiate with Fang Cheng Studio? How did it turn out?”

“I still want to live a few more years.”

“Hmm? What do you mean?”

“I’m planning to retire.”

That evening, the news of Sun Jue, the game butcher’s retirement, caused a small ripple in the gaming world.

Some were overjoyed, others were bewildered, but Fang Cheng, who knew the truth, had only one thought.

Overwhelming battles indeed aren’t fun.

For the loser as well as the victor.

So, it needs to be challenging!