The moment that scene ended, Lin Tong shot to her feet.

At that same moment, Wei Lan and Song Xiaoce also reappeared before her, all three of them gasping for breath.

Lin Tong continued to stare at Xie Shuangxue, and finally, she remembered which part of the story this scene came from.

It was shortly before Xie Shuangxue’s death, right after his schemes were exposed and he was captured. During his escape, he had encountered the second female lead and taken her hostage.

The medicinal scent came from the poison he carried on him. Once it seeped deep enough, it would leave a metallic taste in the throat, and the poison caused weakness throughout the body.

At that point in the storyline, the second female lead was still an innocent young lady. She was later saved by Chun Yao, and shortly after, Xie Shuangxue met his end.

This incident contributed to her growth and maturity, deepening her relationship with the Feather Clan and helping her repay Chun Yao’s life-saving act.

Xie Shuangxue wasn’t just a tool for the main characters—he influenced many storylines. Yet Lin Tong never imagined that such a quickly sketched-out plot could actually play out in this way!

Wei Lan was still feeling dazed as she emerged from the storyline, suddenly understanding why President Yu Haiqing had mentioned that the high realism level of the game wasn’t entirely a good thing.

For a moment, she’d genuinely felt afraid. She found herself unable to look directly at Xie Shuangxue, yet she couldn’t resist sneaking glances at him.

Now that the scene was over, the NPC would revert to his neutral state, just like Chun Yao sheathing her sword. Xie Shuangxue, too, returned to normal.

He picked up the cloak from the ground and slowly draped it over his shoulders as he stood up, straightening the plush trim around the collar with careful fingers. The faint smile had entirely disappeared from his face.

This character was like a dark jewel against the golden embroidery of his black outfit.

So, he really was like this!

No—Xie Shuangxue had always been this kind of person.

“It’s our fault we got stuck in one way of thinking, letting that confession video mislead us. Good interaction content doesn’t always have to be positive,” Wei Lan, having calmed down a bit, shifted back to business. “Characters are meant to be diverse.”

Lin Tong wasn’t entirely wrong—Xie Shuangxue didn’t need to be whitewashed.

In this virtual world, a villain can be intriguing, compelling even, if he’s wicked enough to make people sit up and take notice.

More importantly, the way this clip showcased him was flawless. She had been slightly regretful that there hadn’t been any taste simulation, but in this segment, all five senses were engaged.

Technical team leader Liang Zhongtang quickly affirmed the clip’s potential.

“The adaptation rate on this is incredibly high!” he exclaimed, staring at the screen with a hint of excitement. “It must be at least ninety percent. When we release this, it’ll definitely surpass Dreamscape’s. How did you guys manage it?”

Wei Lan sheepishly replied, “Uh…”

Just random luck.

Lin Tong didn’t take any credit either. In the original script, this part didn’t even have any dialogue, so there was no way the NPC could’ve acted it out on his own. She thought for a moment and said, “It’s probably because SEA’s realism and auto-fill functions have genuinely improved.”

She had to admit that Xie Shuangxue’s performance had far exceeded her expectations. Once they released this interaction clip and saw the players’ reactions, maybe it was worth considering a longer-term push for his character.

As for Song Xiaoce, he was just thrilled.

Overtime pay was secured, and just when he was feeling tired, the perfect solution had dropped into his lap. Tomorrow, he’d post this clip, and he couldn’t wait to see if anyone would dare to question Endless Sea’s capability.

Yet another successful day!

Xie Shuangxue must truly be the team’s lucky charm!

With everything ready, Wei Lan was happily preparing to shut down the backend and head home. Before leaving, she took one last look at the gorgeous figure on the screen.

Her initial scare had passed. Mostly, she just hadn’t adapted to SEA’s current level of realism. Once out of the scene, a quick breather had erased her fear.

This was, after all, a virtual game. All of this was scripted. No one was actually harmed.

“Goodnight, my dear,” Wei Lan waved at him. “You looked especially stunning today.”

Of course, Xie Shuangxue didn’t respond.

The screen went dark the next second.

Xie Shuangxue was instantly transported back to his gray space.

He wasn’t entirely used to being called “dear,” but Wei Lan had more than one “dear.” And, considering the effort she’d put into today’s outfit, which was meticulously crafted, he quietly accepted it.

Fine, “dear” it is. Whatever.

What Xie Shuangxue truly cared about, though, was the smear campaign targeting him lately.

He had anticipated that his flawed character design would attract player criticism. But what he couldn’t stand was the smear campaign twisting things to the point of calling for a boycott on discussing him or giving him attention.

How could that be allowed?

Xie Shuangxue had just recently figured out where the tiny specks of light he sometimes saw falling onto him were coming from.

—Outside discussions.

He couldn’t control the interactive footage players saw in his promo material; it was just a pre-cut clip. But that didn’t stop some players from being drawn to him and developing fondness for him.

The first time he truly appeared in the public eye, people started paying attention. Discussions about him began to pop up on the forums.

These discussions connected with him within the game and materialized as tiny particles of light, dripping down onto Xie Shuangxue’s head like water.

The players’ interest in him was genuine, so it naturally counted as “external information.” And the best part? It required no effort from him to gather; the connection happened on its own, strengthening him bit by bit.

While it couldn’t compare to Yu Haiqing’s formidable influence, it was something he could build up gradually. Those particles of light trickled down without him having to lift a finger.

So he confirmed: popularity was undeniably valuable.

People being drawn to his looks counted as interest; even scaring them counted as interest. But being dragged into a black-marketing campaign that discouraged people from talking about him? That would cut off this newly discovered, stable source of support.

No way he’d let that happen.

He had to fight back. NPCs had to rely on themselves to survive. Now that he had a glimmer of hope, he wouldn’t let it fade.

All he had were poor cards, but with the storyline tests in Gods and Demons becoming increasingly frequent, so were the times he was “executed.” The discomfort from dying in those scenes was getting stronger, and sometimes, he’d sit motionless in the gray space for a long time before he could recover. It only made him more determined that he couldn’t go on like this.

Xie Shuangxue made up his mind. He was going to find a way out for himself, no matter what it took.

The following morning, Song Xiaoce edited and uploaded the new interaction video to Endless Sea’s official website.

With the refined, immersive scenes, the experience brought by Xie Shuangxue’s character felt even more nuanced and lifelike, a step above what they had experienced last night.

Players approached the video with scrutiny, murmuring that Endless Sea must have some nerve to release such a controversial character.

But the moment they entered the holographic mode, the experience shifted entirely.

This NPC felt chillingly real.

The unexpected twist in the final moment drove home just what a technical leap this update was.

“What the heck! Is this the new version?”

“Didn’t some industry ‘expert’ say Endless Sea didn’t have any breakthroughs? Where are they now?”

“Ahem, say what you will, but Old Dog Yu still has some tricks up his sleeve.”

Endless Sea wasn’t about to sit back and get trounced by another company. With their marketing team in full swing, they quickly explained that, due to time constraints, the new version couldn’t be fully applied to the previews. They redirected attention back to the upcoming Gods and Demons third-anniversary version, stirring up excitement.

The technological showcase left an indelible impression. Not only did it counter the previous day’s doubts, but it also began to attract attention beyond their core community.

The active player count surged, drawing in some new registrations and rekindling the interest of old players who hadn’t logged in for a while.

“Who’d have thought holograms had come this far?”

“I clicked out of curiosity—might as well pull my account out of storage and have a look.”

Players are known to adapt quickly. The tone on the Player Forum turned on a dime.

Yesterday, many had passionately cursed Endless Sea, almost branding them a blight on the industry. Today, they wore entirely different faces.

“I knew those trolls were fishy yesterday. Didn’t say anything, but I could tell.”

“Endless Sea’s tech is still unmatched. As an old player, I’m proud—it feels like being blown away three years ago all over again.”

“Industry insider here. From a technical standpoint, the expression detail on Xie Shuangxue’s character clearly shows they used a new jump-particle connection in the intelligent engine. They might even be using a new material substrate…”

Oh, great—here comes another pretentious know-it-all!

Lin Tong sneered.

Not even Gou Yuan or Liang Zhongtang fully understood what President Yu had modified. After a few days of grueling work, they admitted they were just pawns cleaning up the boss’s mess. How would these outsiders know?

At least some reasonable players could see things for what they were. Recognizing Dreamscape’s covert trolling campaign, they pointed out how it had backfired.

“The attitude yesterday was just too off. We CP fans just want to enjoy some cute content. Out of nowhere, a character that hasn’t even fully debuted is getting trashed? Clearly, they just wanted to use us as a weapon.”

With ample promotional material for the two main characters, the well-fed CP fans realized what had been happening.

The Player Forum wasn’t solely for fighting. Silence in arguments was common, as most were reluctant to jump into messy disputes. Veteran players had seen it all and knew the game would ultimately be judged on its final version. Judging by the current preview, they knew what to expect.

Without a doubt, Endless Sea now held the upper hand.

Wei Lan’s affection for her new “dear” Xie Shuangxue grew even deeper. She even took some time today, pondering over new outfit ideas for him.

Lin Tong, who had dismissed it all yesterday, was now onboard, gathering player feedback as part of her job, reading through responses to Xie Shuangxue’s character.

Normally, she avoided the chaotic Player Forum, but today’s scroll felt oddly satisfying.

Gods and Demons data was looking excellent today, and Xie Shuangxue’s was even better.

And it seemed that something fundamental had shifted in his appeal.

Before, there were just some casual look-fans shouting “pretty!” in the confession video, barely invested enough to speak up when he got hate. But today, real fans were starting to form, genuinely invested in him.

Beauty, after all, can be harnessed, even for a villain.

Today’s Player Forum even had a dedicated thread for him:

[Gods and Demons Xie Shuangxue Character Thread]

—“Watched two promo videos; feels like our Little Xue has that enchanting, mysterious charm. Let’s chat if interested. Pretty and a bit bad—I love it!”

The main CP threads for Chun Yao and Luo Yin had already grown quite tall, and Lin Tong had bookmarked them long ago. Xie Shuangxue’s thread was still in its early days, but it was drawing people in.

She looked at it and quietly bookmarked it with her own account.

Of course, Xie Shuangxue’s plot and character setup couldn’t be changed. He was the antagonistic force on many plot threads, and altering him would disrupt a lot of other characters. Lin Tong never intended to change it.

But she couldn’t help feeling a bit of newfound admiration. Who would’ve thought a small, seemingly ordinary antagonist could stir up this kind of excitement?

She was scrolling thoughtfully through the thread, considering her upcoming priorities, when Song Xiaoce snuck over, still wearing his silly “dog-head” hat.

“Sister Tong, I heard the latest news,” he grinned. “Dreamscape’s Chen Xian was so mad today he broke a cup in his office.”

He could hardly keep from laughing.

“No surprise. It’s not his first loss,” Lin Tong shrugged. “He’s been at odds with us for years, treating Gods and Demons as a sworn enemy, especially with Gou Yuan as his arch-nemesis. We’re used to it.”

Song Xiaoce nodded, then whispered, “Do you think President Yu knows about this? A lot of people blamed him yesterday.”

Yet today, President Yu was being praised for that video of Xie Shuangxue.

President Yu Haiqing’s reputation on the Player Forum was something of an enigma. No character in the game had the kind of loyal following he did. So even when he was the target of criticism, people didn’t dare say much. But somehow, he always managed to be pulled into the spotlight. It was love-hate, plain and simple.

Probably the price of being so popular.

“How would I know? The boss is so busy. Even if he knows, he probably doesn’t care,” Lin Tong gave him a glance. “Your President Yu built this company from the ground up. He’s been through way more than this, so stop worrying about him. Worry about your own work.”

Song Xiaoce gave a quick “got it” gesture and scurried off.

Everyone in the Gods and Demons game department assumed the CEO wouldn’t have time for these matters. But it turned out, Yu Haiqing was more invested in the third anniversary than anyone could’ve imagined.