Anyway, whenever something goes wrong, it’s always safe to blame that man who brings bloodshed wherever he goes.

Song Xiaoce sulked in frustration.

He turned around and reported the situation to their planning team leader, half-fuming and half-baffled. “Isn’t Xie Shuangxue trending right now? I saw in the promotional videos, lots of people said they liked him. But today, hardly anyone’s standing up for him. Could it be that he’s getting suppressed by paid trolls?”

The planning team leader, Lin Tong, was silent for a moment, seeming much calmer than him.

“You’ve only been in this industry for less than six months,” Lin Tong shrugged. “You’ll see as time goes on. This is all pretty standard stuff. Building a popular character isn’t as simple as it looks.” She added, “Fans who are into looks only tend to shout once and leave. They don’t get involved in battles and certainly won’t go to the trouble of defending him in such a negative atmosphere.”

The players were all sharp, after all.

Even if there were some genuine fans, their voices would easily get drowned out in today’s forum environment.

Looks do count for a lot, but it’s not a sure-win. If that were the case, Gods and Demons could just leave things to the art team, right? What would people like them be here for?

To her, a character’s core concept is their essence—the real key to gaining die-hard fans and striking a chord with players.

To put it bluntly, if people were bad-mouthing Luo Yin and his partner, these two have a fanbase foundation, and their fans would’ve erupted long ago.

But Xie Shuangxue is missing that foundation.

This main storyline was largely written by Lin Tong, and she had to admit that Xie Shuangxue’s character concept had this weak point. It was partly her fault. After all, he was just a minor villain meant to fulfill a supporting role early in the story. They hadn’t planned to push him as a core character. With his setup, even if he looked good, it was hard for him to have lasting appeal.

With the third anniversary coming up, it’s a situation where touching one thing affects everything else, so even if they wanted to change his character, it was too late.

In Lin Tong’s plan, the main promoted characters were Chun Yao and Luo Yin. Xie Shuangxue was just a “stone to attract jade”—a trigger to set off the bigger story. But here he was, getting picked apart for his weak spots.

Whoever was behind this was clearly prepared, picking out things that the main CP fans disliked. This way, those who had a positive impression of Gods and Demons wouldn’t speak up for Xie Shuangxue. They’d also take advantage of Xie Shuangxue’s flaws to undermine the game’s interactivity. The whole process was smooth as silk.

She could immediately tell who was stirring up trouble.

“Don’t worry,” she reassured Song Xiaoce. “Dreamscape pulled this kind of thing on us before. We’ve always managed to beat them back.”

Lin Tong didn’t know much about the technical side, but she knew Gou Yuan.

With how smug Gou Yuan’s been lately, though he’s trying hard to keep it cool, SEA’s realism breakthrough isn’t just hype.

Xie Shuangxue’s interaction video was rushed and didn’t include the true experience from the art team’s testing space. That’s why Dreamscape assumed there was a gap, and used the timing to blacken their name during the marketing phase.

More material is coming up soon, so regular players or CP fans will have plenty to watch without worrying about those rumors. Any talk about breaking up the main CP is just nonsense, which is easy to clear up.

But a precise counter to hit back on realism and interactivity would take a bit more effort.

Although waiting another twenty days for the new version to be fully installed would make everything clear, being hit hard during the marketing phase was not ideal.

The Gods and Demons game department is notoriously vengeful and wouldn’t just let this slide. Gou Yuan, especially, was both a perfectionist and fiercely competitive, so there was no way he’d let this pass.

“Let’s create some new interaction videos. I’ll assign someone and see if we can implement it in the preview,” Gou Yuan said, an unusual, smug expression crossing his chubby face. “Heh, daring to challenge me? I’ll show you what real tech looks like!”

Gods and Demons will always be your daddy!

Despite his confident words, it was still Wei Lan who ended up with a headache, as she was in charge of the final review of these new materials.

Lin Tong and the tech team leader Liang Zhongtang stood beside her, discussing briefly. Liang Zhongtang adjusted his glasses and said honestly, “The new version’s adaptability is a bit unstable right now.”

It wasn’t that the Gods and Demons tech team was as bad as the rumors suggested. It was simply a time crunch.

Their President Yu Haiqing had made a crucial breakthrough with the AI engine, but from the chip to the full game installation, there was still a huge amount of work to be done.

The new realistic experience could be showcased in the testing space backstage, but getting the external interface to deliver that same experience right now was another story. It wasn’t something that could be achieved overnight.

The plan was to go fully live on the third anniversary day, and time was already tight. They hadn’t even had time to bring in a third-party assessment team. Otherwise, with an official report, they wouldn’t have needed to say anything more. Now, due to this external smear campaign, they had to allocate extra resources for promotional materials.

Even if it was just a segment, Liang Zhongtang couldn’t achieve perfection with the time left.

The segments featuring the two main characters were easy to pick out, and Wei Lan quickly edited a piece together. But after the tech team processed it, Liang Zhongtang glanced at the data and shook his head, “This experience quality may only hit around forty percent of what the new version can actually deliver.”

The realism boost was clear, but due to time constraints, the execution lacked finesse, making it seem less polished compared to Radiance Continent’s prepared experience.

Chun Yao and Luo Yin’s segments were highly dramatic and featured plenty of interactions between each other, but they had fewer interactions with the player.

There were also some clips of the supporting characters. They picked a few lively scenes, but the highest effect reached only about sixty percent.

Liang Zhongtang compared these clips and suggested, “Different NPCs and plots vary in adaptability. If we find something with a spark, it doesn’t necessarily have to be the main characters; it might give things a lift.”

If SEA’s installation could be completed, it would outshine Radiance Continent by a couple of points, but since it wasn’t finished, it was hard to showcase fully on the main interface.

They couldn’t exactly drag players to the back end to watch the test space, could they?

Wei Lan looked at the selected clips, still feeling dissatisfied. It was missing something, a certain flavor.

It didn’t quite match the feeling of encountering Xie Shuangxue in the test space—that stunning, just-right feeling of tenderness and attraction.

That strange experience, a mix of illusion and reality, where you know this person in front of you is fake, just a bunch of data, but you can’t help but be moved.

She even considered redoing that video using the current tech team’s methods for higher adaptability, but reason told her that re-releasing controversial promo material wasn’t an option.

Because of this, Lin Tong and Song Xiaoce stayed with her in the art team’s area to discuss. They were all wearing holographic headsets. When Wei Lan switched back to Xie Shuangxue’s character profile, Lin Tong looked a bit disapproving. “Sister Lan, even if he’s got paid trolls, there’s no need to spend too much effort on him. His character’s a bit lacking.”

Look-fans may not be the most loyal. They’re loud but shallow; they stick around as long as he looks good. So, as far as she was concerned, there was no need to go out of their way to counter the hate on Xie Shuangxue. Things would calm down on their own in a few days.

His character’s ceiling was pretty much set.

“That’s because you weren’t there the first time we met him,” Wei Lan insisted, determined to sell her colleagues on her perspective. “If you’d seen him back then, there’s no way you’d give up on this character. Besides, I already drew him a new outfit.”

Lin Tong sighed, unconvinced. “Sister Lan, I’ve been through the test group for materials too. I’ve seen him in the test scenes, and without character depth, that face alone gets boring after a while.”

She’d seen a lot of NPCs; apart from his remarkable looks, Xie Shuangxue didn’t stand out much.

“Just give it a quick look,” Wei Lan urged, “If it’s no good, then we’ll swap him out.”

Privately, she felt Xie Shuangxue had a bit of luck with him.

Last time, when she argued with Gou Yuan, it was he who ultimately smoothed things out. Maybe he’d save the day again?

Song Xiaoce, who’d kept quiet, eagerly nodded.

Yes, yes, my promo KPI depends on him. Just give it a shot.

Lin Tong sighed but didn’t stop them.

Mainly because, after a whole day of going through so much promo material, they still hadn’t found a highly adaptable piece.

She had seen this NPC in the test group, but it was just through a screen, without the holographic setup. When he appeared before her now, she finally understood what Wei Lan meant by “different.”

It was like he was shining, especially when his eyes met hers.

Xie Shuangxue was studying her, too.

As an NPC who can browse the forums, he didn’t need to eavesdrop to know what had happened.

He also knew that Wei Lan was busy trying to make a new promo video because of it, looking drained and lacking direction. But the moment she saw him, her eyes brightened, as if she’d regained her energy.

“Look, the new clothes I drew for my precious!” She spun around Xie Shuangxue, feeling confident again. “Aren’t they beautiful?”

She’d sketched it during her free time, and Xie Shuangxue’s face needed no tweaking, saving her team plenty of time.

The new outfit was ink-black with delicate golden embroidery at the collar and cuffs. Simple golden lotus patterns decorated the body of the garment, and the deep tones made his face look even more exquisite, like a jewel against velvet. It gave off a different vibe from last time.

This kind of work was what gave her a sense of accomplishment.

All this time spent racking her brain over unsatisfying materials was disheartening. Sooner or later, it’d drive her to depression, and no amount of overtime pay would make up for it.

Xie Shuangxue was Wei Lan’s initial design, and she’d treated her character like her own “child” since day one. Lin Tong and Song Xiaoce circled around him, sizing him up with thoughtful looks. “Maybe adjust the clip and try again?”

“Sure, which part?”

“Hmm…”

She and Lin Tong exchanged looks.

Neither of them could decide.

Lin Tong hadn’t avoided him out of bias; she genuinely thought Xie Shuangxue, as a supporting character, didn’t have any standout scenes.

His previous confession wasn’t much by the original storyline, and the perspective was always on Luo Yin. Luo Yin used his scarecrow illusion to make Xie Shuangxue believe the person before him was Chun Yao, pinpointing Xie Shuangxue’s vulnerability for control. It was only when they extracted this specific scene that Xie Shuangxue unexpectedly shone.

“Let’s go with random mode,” Lin Tong sighed. “We’ll leave it to luck. If it doesn’t work out, we’ll move on.”

As she spoke, Xie Shuangxue felt as if a weight had been lifted off him.

Though it was still the art team’s testing space, this was different from last time’s character showcase.

This time, all three were in an immersive setting, starting with none of them able to see each other. They were immediately pulled into a random scene in player perspective.

Lin Tong, having been through countless tests, was almost numb to it by now, and wasn’t too hopeful.

She noticed Xie Shuangxue’s face suddenly tense as he glanced around, took her by the wrist, and led her to hide behind something. She crouched with him, watching him scan the surroundings.

“Shh, stay quiet. They’re close,” he whispered, reassuring her in a low voice, “Don’t be scared.”

The tension was palpable, but Xie Shuangxue stayed protectively in front of her.

Xie Shuangxue wore a cloak as usual. His character was a foreigner taken in, always sensitive to the cold and struggling with the Feather Clan’s floating, dreamlike climate, which made him stand out wherever he went.

Now, he took off that cloak and draped it over her shoulders.

Once again, Lin Tong felt how much SEA’s realism had advanced.

Every sensation was vivid and detailed.

The cloak carried Xie Shuangxue’s faint medicinal scent, a bit bitter, not sweet at all. The moment it covered her, she felt warmth seep through, and a heightened sense of security followed.

Which scene is this again?

While Lin Tong had worked on the main script, many side stories were collaborations. She knew every line of the main character’s arc but not necessarily the supporting roles.

Supporting moments in the script were often summed up in a few words, with the AI engine filling in the gaps automatically. Non-essential points weren’t usually run by the testing team.

Did Xie Shuangxue have such a gentle side?

“What are you thinking about?” she heard him ask.

Xie Shuangxue reached over to adjust the cloak’s collar, moving closer. His medicinal scent grew stronger. Up close, his face was impossibly flawless.

“Yeah, the people outside should be gone. Let’s wait until they’ve gone further away.”

Then, naturally, he reached up and tucked her loose hair behind her ear, the brief touch making an impression.

She heard him chuckle softly, his tone gentle as ever, almost coaxing.

“What kind of people are out there anyway…?” she asked. “A bunch of bad guys?”

When he leaned in closer, Lin Tong couldn’t help but feel her face flush a little. It was normal to be drawn to appearances, but she remembered her purpose here, her mind still analyzing.

This segment was quite good.

High on interactivity, it demonstrated the realism excellently—smell, touch, hearing, and sight were all covered. Although taste was missing, it was close enough. Xie Shuangxue’s expression and tone were spot-on.

But there was one thing she hesitated over.

Releasing this interaction might trigger people to say they’re baiting fans or using things like the suspension bridge effect to heighten immersion. Xie Shuangxue’s character wasn’t even supposed to be like this.

And she truly couldn’t remember where this scene was from.

But just then, Xie Shuangxue spoke again, his tone a little different now, more relaxed.

“They’re gone.”

He reached out, tightened the cloak’s collar around her, and as Lin Tong looked up, the next moment, Xie Shuangxue smiled, and his hands suddenly covered her eyes!

Her vision went dark. Then, as his movement tilted her backward, she found herself enveloped by his cloak. The medicinal scent intensified, a metallic sweetness rising in her throat, and her strength drained.

She gasped for breath, but all she could hear was his voice, still soft, with a hint of amusement.

“Fooled you.”

“I’m the real bad guy.”