Chapter 204: Cultural Invasion

Chapter 204: Cultural Invasion

"Instead of guarding against the God of Death’s plagiarism, why not make him dare not plagiarize?"

"Dare not?"

Aphnora tilted her head slightly. He was the God of Death—what wouldn’t he dare to do?

"Think about it. If we replace the evil dragon in the 'knight rescuing the princess' story with an undead bone dragon, and frame the bone dragon’s kidnapping of the princess as an order from the God of Death, what an interesting twist that would be!"

"Or, we could draw from real events—film the God of Death invading Keville and other domains, depicting how the locals suffer under his cruelty yet bravely resist the undead legion. With the help of the internet, they ultimately repel his invasion. Not only would this promote the internet, but it would also vilify the God of Death. Do you think he’d still dare to copy us then?"

As Yu Sheng’an spoke, inspiration suddenly struck him, and he recalled a short video concept:

"We could even film users logging into the 'Followers of the God of Death,' slaughtering undead in the Underworld, only to shockingly discover that the 'undead' they’ve been killing were actually civilians. The God of Death had twisted their senses, making them perceive innocents as monsters."

Movies weren’t just commodities—they were weapons.

The most terrifying ideological weapons, at that!

Why fear the God of Death copying them wholesale?

At that point, even if the God of Death didn’t want to copy them, Yu Sheng’an would want him to—even actively spread them on the Dark Web to gain followers.

What?

The God of Death tries to imitate them shot-for-shot?

Hah! If the God of Death tried to compete on technical merits, Yu Sheng’an would have plenty to say.

Do you even understand montage?

Ever heard of a one-shot?

No?

Yeah, me neither.

But I’ve watched enough movies to know the difference between a pig and pork—unlike you, stumbling around in the dark.

With so many brilliant films out there, a little tweaking here and there would be enough to crush him.

What?

He tries to remake them with swapped roles?

Does he think audiences are stupid?

Who’d rewatch something they’ve already seen?

People’s time is valuable, you know.

Ever wonder why 'Long Aotian' became synonymous with trash?

Not because it was actually trash—on the contrary, it was excellent. But too many copycats flooded the market, exhausting audiences until the trope faded into obscurity.

This industry thrives on innovation.

I’ll cultivate the market. I’ll set the standards. One phenomenon-level movie a year would be enough to leave him scrambling to keep up.

By then, the gap between us would be as vast as heaven and earth.

As Yu Sheng’an passionately laid out his vision, he suddenly noticed Aphnora staring at him, wide-eyed and utterly spellbound, her glistening eyes brimming with awe.

"What’s wrong?" He waved a hand in front of her face.

"Did you come up with all this just now?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I knew you were a genius!"

"Really? Hahaha—" Yu Sheng’an laughed heartily.

"Meeting you… was the luckiest thing that’s ever happened to me."

Aphnora’s cheeks flushed pink as soon as the words left her mouth, and she shyly lowered her head.

Was that too… too forward?

"Meeting you was my luck too!" Yu Sheng’an grinned.

Aphnora’s face burned even redder.

"Come on—let’s go make a movie!"

"Mm."

Aphnora nodded lightly with a cheerful demeanor.

……

……

Preaching Zones of the God of Death · Strang Domain.

At this moment, a grand and spectacular performance was underway at the Lambert Royal Opera House in the Grand Duchy of Carey!

On the spacious stage, Magic steam swirled, and illusionary lights intertwined, making the entire theatrical production breathtakingly beautiful—as if it were a scene from a divine realm.

Strangely, the stands, capable of seating ten thousand, were completely empty.

Yet, the star performer of the Royal Opera House, Edwina, poured her heart into the performance. Even though the stage was far from the audience seats, she flawlessly conveyed every nuance of her facial expressions, utterly absorbed in her role.

She knew there weren’t many live spectators today.

But she also knew that this performance would be witnessed by hundreds of millions—such was the divine miracle bestowed by the Dark Web!

Praise the great God of Death!

Recently, Edwina had skyrocketed to fame.

Not only had she shaken the noble circles of the Grand Duchy of Carey, but she had also stirred the entire nation—no, the entire Strang Domain, and even the vast multiverse beyond.

All of this was thanks to the great God of Death, who had launched the [Opera House] on the Dark Web.

Users could experience the performances through a soul-based viewing mode, as if seated in the finest spots of the Opera House, enjoying the exquisite artistry once reserved only for the high and mighty nobles.

This had sent the masses in the preaching zones of the Dark Web into a frenzy, singing praises to the greatness of the God of Death.

It had also electrified the performers of the Opera House, for they were now making waves across the world.

And of course, the nobles were thrilled—there was an undeniable thrill in holding the dreams of countless admirers in their grasp.

What Edwina didn’t know was that in the most luxurious private box on the second floor, the very deity she revered—the God of Death—was lounging on a plush blue-eyed fox fur sofa, savoring desserts while admiring her performance.

The God of Death was in an excellent mood—no, an exceptionally good one!

Ever since the creation of the Dark Web, most of its features had been shamelessly copied from the internet.

This had earned the Dark Web endless criticism and mockery.

Though within his preaching zones, the Dark Web reigned supreme.

Beyond them, however, it struggled to compete with the internet.

Every feature the Dark Web had, the internet already possessed.

But many things the internet offered, the Dark Web lacked.

Take the knowledge Q&A section, for example. Initially, he had assigned subordinate gods to manually repost trending questions and answers—but it was a futile effort.

His Q&A system couldn’t achieve real-time updates!

Nor could it facilitate user interaction.

Once people outside the preaching zones realized the Dark Web was merely copying content, user attrition worsened.

The God of Death was clever—there was no doubt about that. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have been able to create the Dark Web in the first place.

So, upon recognizing the problem, he swiftly pivoted to original content. Though the Q&A community crafted by his subordinate gods’ knowledge couldn’t yet rival the internet, it at least stabilized the core user base within his preaching zones.

Beyond those zones, he gradually began reclaiming some users.

The same approach was applied to other sections.

But that was as far as it went. Surpassing the internet seemed nearly impossible.

Even catching up was a Herculean task!

With just a glance through his Divine Perspective, he could see that over seventy percent of users were still on the internet.

This infuriated him!

Yet, there was little he could do.

The internet’s first-mover advantage was overwhelming. Trying to overtake it with a scimitar was far too difficult.

The God of Death could not tolerate the fact that the Dark Web was inferior to the internet, nor could he stand idly by as the Internet God continued to amass Source Essence.

After all, the godhood wielded by the Internet God was inherently powerful.

Once he accumulated enough Source Essence, it wouldn’t be impossible for him to destroy the Underworld in a single strike.

This sense of crisis made the God of Death realize that differentiation was necessary—what the internet lacked, he could provide.

If he succeeded, users would have no choice but to log into his Dark Web.

With this mindset, the God of Death instinctively turned his gaze toward reality, giving rise to the Opera House.

"Your Greatness, the God of Death, Miss Edwina has finished her performance. Shall we upload the recorded opera to the Dark Web?"

Gustav, the Archbishop of the Grand Duchy of Carey, asked in a hushed, devout tone.

"Upload it."

The God of Death nodded, a knowing smile appearing on his face as he prepared to revel in the incoming surge of Source Essence.

It had become routine—every time the Opera House uploaded a new performance, a wave of Source Essence would follow.