Chapter 9: Fan Jin Passes the Imperial Exam? Fan Jin the Sniper!

Night had fallen, and the siblings ate in silence in the living room. For some reason, Nayuta, who usually liked to chatter with her brother, was unusually quiet, making Chen Shang feel a bit unsettled.

—Did I make her go through too much trouble in the old district today? Does she hate me now?

Chen Shang discreetly checked Nayuta’s favorability rating; it still sat at [20]. To be honest, Chen Shang didn’t much care about the exact number, as long as he could keep it hovering around “friendly.” After all, if the relationship soured, who would cook and take care of the house?

As Chen Shang pondered this, Nayuta suddenly put down her chopsticks and, with an air of seriousness, spoke: “Um... Brother, have you recently developed any new hobbies?”

“Huh? I’ve always had a wide range of interests,” Chen Shang replied, puzzled.

“No, no, no!” Nayuta quickly waved her hand, her eyes darting away. “I mean... has anyone recommended any celebrities or idols to you lately?”

“Oh, yes.” The first thing that came to Chen Shang’s mind was the virtual idol “A-Meng” the administrator had mentioned to him. But no matter how broad his tastes, he couldn’t possibly be interested in a metal monk with a voice changer.

Hearing his answer, Nayuta let out a breath of relief. It seemed that even if her brother had some awkward secrets, at least he was willing to be honest with her.

After thinking for a moment, Nayuta stood up from her chair. With a solemn tone, she lectured him: “Even if you like some celebrity or idol, I won’t dislike you for it, but don’t let yourself get so absorbed that you lose sight of what’s important. And, even though Mom and Dad send us money every month, we’re not exactly well-off. So... if you can, please try to be a bit more frugal, okay?”

“No problem,” Chen Shang replied seriously, nodding. Now that he thought about it, his “Jin Yuchuang Eradication Plan” hadn’t cost the family any money; even Black Calis’s contact information had been bartered for with a badge he found on the sidewalk. At most, the trip to the old district had cost them ten bucks from the family budget.

“I hope you’ll keep your promise~” Nayuta’s stern face broke into a smile again as she sat down, reassured, and resumed her meal.

After dinner, Chen Shang returned to his computer and resumed browsing TwitterBlog. He had to admit, Black Calis was incredibly efficient. The topic surrounding “Jin Yuchuang” had already climbed to the top of the trending list, and the number of bot accounts singing his praises had grown from dozens to hundreds. Since Chen Shang himself had written the template scripts for these bots, he could recognize them at a glance.

Jin Yuchuang probably hadn’t realized yet that Chen Shang was preparing to launch a full-scale online war against him.

Compared to the cutthroat, bottom-feeding entertainment industry of Chen Shang’s previous life, the entertainment world in Night Pivot City was as wild and pure as a young lion. This wasn’t because the city’s celebrities were naïve, but rather because the city’s laws were utterly worthless. When contract killings and private armed forces were tolerated by the law, corporate rivalries no longer needed to rely on online or public opinion warfare.

According to rumors, an ordinary citizen once trash-talked an opponent in an online game, only to discover the other player was the illegitimate son of a powerful executive. The next day, some burly men dragged the poor guy out of his room for a little face-to-face “meet and greet” with the young master.

Someone else once criticized a celebrity for smoking in public on TwitterBlog. Within days, that brave soul enjoyed a complete “hacker triangulation + mercenary assassination” package courtesy of the celebrity’s entertainment company—a reward for their boldness.

As for conflicts between entertainment companies, things got even more direct. Take Jin Yuchuang, for example: he had already ordered hits on over ten of his peers. The companies that lost stars to such assassinations usually had only two options—send assassins and hackers to retaliate, or swallow the insult, knowing they couldn’t compete.

Of course, only a handful of people knew these industry secrets—Chen Shang, who had once reviewed background scripts for video games, was among them. For ordinary people, daring to attack a celebrity online meant being tracked down and “vanished” within three days by the entertainment company behind that star.

Because of this, Night Pivot City’s entertainment companies handled “opinion wars” with brutal simplicity. But Black Calis was different. Even Chen Shang, the game planner, didn’t know where she was hiding. If Han Tide Entertainment could find her, it would be a miracle.

So no matter how much she stirred things up online, Han Tide Entertainment could only sit and take the blows.

Having mapped out his next moves, Chen Shang opened a Word document and let his fingers fly across the keyboard. Jin Yuchuang and his fans probably believed their follower count was truly soaring, not realizing they were being artificially inflated.

Now, it was time to “fan the flames.”

Drawing on his experience from browsing highbrow platforms like Weibo and Twitter in his previous life, Chen Shang typed out post after post, line after line, until the document ballooned to several megabytes.

He opened Black Calis’s email and attached a message:

“In two days, we’ll move to phase two of our plan. Aside from continuing to post the ‘praise comments’ I sent before, start including the new ones I’m giving you…”

“Remember to use laundered money to keep buying Jin Yuchuang’s merchandise—preferably until it sells out.”

After sending everything, Chen Shang hit enter, a smile spreading across his face.

It was the pure, innocent smile of a child who just learned about a new game.

...

These past few days, Jin Yuchuang had been in high spirits. Not only had his TwitterBlog inexplicably gained a legion of active fans, but his keywords had topped the trending list for two days straight with no sign of fading.

Reading the flood of adoring comments, Jin Yuchuang felt like a scholar who had just passed the imperial exams—elated, as if he could soar to the heavens.

Best of all, this was only the prelude. Once “Nuclear Blast: Reborn” aired, his popularity would surely skyrocket to unimaginable heights. If luck was on his side, this year’s “TwitterBlog Annual Hot Topic Award” would be his for the taking.

At that thought, Jin Yuchuang narrowed his eyes, a grin spreading nearly to his ears.

“Hm? What’s going on?”

As he scrolled through the comments, he began to notice something strange:

“Mr. Jin is perfect! He’s the pinnacle of the entertainment world! Everyone else should just kneel and lick his shoes!”

“If Brother A-Chuang gets serious, do those other rotten fish in the industry even deserve to survive?”

“In this filthy, traffic-obsessed entertainment circle, Teacher A-Chuang is like a breath of fresh air—he gives me hope to go on living!”

“Boohoo… Teacher A-Chuang, the E.X.$.L. boy group next door claims you’ve had plastic surgery! Tell me it’s not true, please!”

“Don’t cry, girl! Those effeminate boys who only act cute on stage are slandering him out of jealousy! I’m going to sue them tomorrow!”

“You’re all right, but could you please check out ‘Did A-Meng Chant Today’? She’s adorable and always urges us to lay down our arms and seek goodness…”

Aside from the last comment, the rest were lavish in their praise—but why did it all feel so baiting, so provocative, as if they were stirring up conflict everywhere?

Jin Yuchuang’s fans, while zealous, rarely picked fights—they knew the consequences of online arguments in Night Pivot City could quickly escalate into real-world violence.

Sensing something was off, Jin Yuchuang immediately called his agent.

“Hello? This is Jin Yuchuang. I need to talk to you.”