To ascend, I had no choice but to create games

But after hearing the explanation from Huang Ping, Monkey had an epiphany and then expressed that he understood as well.

When all three of them had grasped the concept, Fang Cheng, who was meditating at home, suddenly felt a chill.

Startled by the sensation, Tian Xuan, who was eating cookies and watching past Spring Festival galas, thought for a moment and then handed over a cookie shaped like a Heavenly Tao Fragment.

Declining Tian Xuan’s offer, Fang Cheng gazed into the distance and murmured to himself, “Someone might be persecuting me.”

There was no way someone could beat him straightforwardly; the only ones who could possibly hurt him were the players he loved and hated in equal measure.

However, the meaning of the warning could be manifold; it might be because someone was planning to persecute him, or that someone might in the future.

His divination skills were indeed poor, only able to sense a crisis, but whether this crisis was from the present or the future, he couldn’t quite pinpoint.

But based on his understanding of himself, most likely the crisis stemmed from the players.

Of course, it was also possible that Huang Ping and the others were up to something.

But they had recently been observing the company’s rules and regulations, not working overtime unnecessarily and were likely resting at home right now, so it was probably some shenanigans that the players might be up to.

Sighing, Fang Cheng felt that the players were truly his lifelong adversaries, yet he couldn’t do without them.

Therefore, he could only continuously refine himself, making the gameplay of his game as smooth as possible to prevent the players from backstabbing him.

But this process was also a form of self-examination and cultivation.

Only a flawless Taoist Heart can face all challenges; if it can’t even withstand the players’ scrutiny, it’s not worth keeping.

Picking up a piece of Shadows Fragment again, Fang Cheng continued to scrutinize “I Am The Director,” observing every issue within the game and pulling them out one by one for repair, remolding them entirely according to his will.

Before he knew it, the weekend was over.

As Fang Cheng walked into the studio and had just settled into his seat, exchanging good mornings with Xu Qingling, he noticed the dazed expression on Monkey who had just walked in.

His steps were unsteady, his demeanor listless, almost bumping into the wall several times, looking like someone who had overindulged to the point of being hollowed out.

Even after drinking some tea and resting on Plague Chicken for a while, he still seemed sluggish.

Before long, Huang Ping and Xiao Douzi also entered the company, one after the other.

Upon arrival, they brewed a potent mix of coffee and Spirit Grass with hot water and drank a large cup vehemently, which somewhat revived their spirits.

Recovering a bit, they glanced at Fang Cheng guiltily, just about to greet him, when they noticed Fang Cheng narrowing his eyes, his gaze darting back and forth among the three of them.

Confronted with Fang Cheng’s calm gaze, the three felt a chill run down their spines as if someone had grabbed them from behind, and couldn’t help feeling a bit guilty.

After a moment, Fang Cheng sighed and said, “You three don’t need to come in tomorrow.”

Normally when a boss says this, it means you’re fired, contact HR to get your compensation, and then leave.

But they understood Fang Cheng.

This statement was definitely literal, meaning he wanted them to rest.

Clutching at straws, Huang Ping managed a strained smile and said, “Boss…”

Fang Cheng sighed again and then pointed to the rules and regulations posted on the company walls.

The first rule was: “No random overtime. Overtime must be compensated with time off (Fang Cheng excluded).”

This rule was highlighted and bolded, one of the mandatory regulations in the studio.

Hearing Fang Cheng say this, Huang Ping realized that their overtime work over the weekend had been discovered.

Knowing nothing they said would make a difference, Huang Ping straightforwardly said, “Alright, since we’ve been caught, do what you will with us. But at least let us finish our work, so we can make up for the time off properly!”

“That’s fine. You worked overtime for two days on the weekend; I’ll count it as six days. You don’t have to come in next week, come back the Tuesday after next.”

The unexpected bad news caused Huang Ping to instinctively clutch at his chest.

But he still resolutely went to his workstation, determinedly opened the game, and started making changes.

Wang Xiaoying, who had observed everything from the sidelines and taken a sip of tea, felt that this place was truly strange.

In other places, bosses try all sorts of ways to make their employees work overtime, yet here it was the exact opposite.

But she could understand that sentiment, and then she felt weird for being able to understand it.

At the end of the day, Fang Cheng looked over the modifications made by Huang Ping and nodded with satisfaction.

To prevent players from backstabbing him during gameplay, he had made many changes.

For instance, increasing difficulty, boosting in-game employee salaries, raising advertising costs, all to enable players to focus more on producing quality work.

He also deepened the combinations of various show performances, adding more depth to the game.

And the direction of Huang Ping and others’ modifications happened to align with his intentions, making him feel that the prior sense of crisis probably didn’t come from his employees, so all he needed was to guard against the players’ backstabs.

After encouraging Huang Ping and his team, Fang Cheng returned to his seat, looking forward even more to the final outcome of “I Am The Director.”

By the weekend, adjustments to the new game had finally been made.

The game’s difficulty had increased slightly, but more random events were added, and multiple development pathways were augmented, yet the ultimate goal of the game remained unchanged.