It was an uproar, but in the end, they still couldn’t come up with any solutions. 𝙛𝒓𝓮𝙚𝔀𝒆𝒃𝓷𝒐𝓿𝙚𝓵.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Save it. The whole industry is laughing at us right now. We can’t let ourselves become a bigger joke."

Everyone finally quieted down, then started shooting each other sharp glances.

"What now?"

"Figure it out yourselves!"

At this point, it was already a deadlock, and none of them had a way out.

In big internet companies producing S+ level dramas, there’s a standard workflow—from marketing, launch, to monetization—all of it is typically highly streamlined.

The issue now is that despite an over-the-top marketing campaign, the prospects for profitability are completely bleak.

Under normal circumstances, projects like Battle Through the Heavens—regardless of quality—would find pre-launch advertising deals easy to close, with countless businesses scrambling for ad slots.

Pre-launch advertising refers to brands reserving ad placements based solely on potential, without any actual viewer data—essentially investing ahead of time out of trust.

The metrics for pre-launch ads show Feixian as the top celebrity draw, and Joy of Life as the most bankable IP.

Battle Through the Heavens opted against hiring top-tier stars to cut costs, banking on the "number one male demographic IP" label for confidence. Their initial projections were extremely optimistic.

Advertising deals were forecasted to start at a baseline of 150 million.

This is the allure of big IPs.

Before jumping into the project, everyone assumed the production costs could be recouped no matter what.

If the show performed well and generated buzz, it was easy to expect subscriber conversions, advanced screenings, additional ads—a few extra hundred million in profits almost effortlessly.

If the show bombed, they figured they could buy some data, run a few marketing campaigns, push it into trending topics to save face.

That overconfidence was their downfall—they believed losses were impossible.

But now, they’re utterly stuck. Every business partner is waiting to see the broadcast results before committing advertising dollars.

Which leads to the most terrifying scenario—a launch with no ads.

This implies advertisers deeply distrust the show and will scrutinize its performance even more ruthlessly. Even if it manages middling success, there may still be very few ads, and they’ll fetch the lowest rates of similar projects.

In other words... guaranteed financial disaster.

President Chen rubbed his forehead and spoke, "As things stand, the first few episodes and Day 1 data may generate significant buzz. The question is, though, how stable can average viewership be afterward?"

Not a single person spoke. Not a single reply.

Nobody had any confidence left in Battle Through the Heavens.

The stiff Mr. Chang from Xinli forcibly changed the subject, "Mr. Gu, you caused this mess, so you should take responsibility. You owe us for the losses."

Gu Tonglin slammed the table in anger: "I’ve clearly lost the most in all of this!"

"Who here hasn’t lost something?"

Director Yu matched his table slam and shot him an aggressive glare.

Who hasn’t lost something indeed?

Director Yu’s career path was essentially destroyed; his reputation had plummeted to rock bottom, likely ensuring he’d never get another chance.

The two producers also saw their reputations ruined and are facing audits.

As production companies, Yida and Xinli will see Mr. Jiang and Mr. Chang inevitably held accountable by their parent companies—Jiang is almost certainly losing his job prematurely, and Mr. Chang has lost one last shot at glory.

No one is worse off than Penguin: reputation damage, ad revenue losses, failed promotions... the list is endless.

Of course, on the surface, it’s true Gu Tonglin’s losses seem the most severe.

That frozen sum of money—if the contract is ultimately judged fraudulent—will need to be repaid to investors, amounting to over a billion in pure cash losses.

Already paid costs include 50 million for shares, another 50 million for "ghost army services," and over 10 million in sales expenses—totaling a staggering 120 million.

What’s worse is that financial regulators have now been drawn into this fiasco, and it has caused old investors to dig up past transactions and confront him.

Even just handling lawsuits will be a painful grind.

If competitors start piling on maliciously, it’s impossible to tell how far this could spiral. Might even collapse entirely.

Anyway, his reputation is undeniably obliterated—future prospects in this industry seem almost impossible.

Producer Jiang added fuel to the fire with his cold sarcasm, "Mr. Gu, whoever’s at fault bears the blame. You took those shares and turned them into a finance scheme, and now out of 300 investors, 200 are accusing you of fraud, with 100 suspected of money laundering—what an absolute joke."

"Hmph!" Mr. Chang echoed with a cold snort, adding with biting sarcasm, "Look at the mess now. All of this started with you, Mr. Gu—bitten off far more than you could ever chew, and you dragged us all down with it!"

"You—!"

Gu Tonglin was trembling with anger, a flicker of fear appearing in his eyes.

Everyone stared at him in unison—a telling sign that one thing had already been decided: the group had reached an unspoken agreement to throw him under the bus as the scapegoat.

Sure, the Gu Family is powerful, but isn’t the opposition just as formidable when united?

He was merely a fringe member of the Gu Family’s second generation—he didn’t represent either the Gu Family or Gu Corporation.

So, he forced himself to suppress his anger and tried to defend himself one last time.

"It really wasn’t me! My contracts and sales processes were completely clean..."

"You don’t say?"

Suddenly Jiang Defu spoke, his voice dripping with subtle menace, "I had a quiet look into things—turns out, the investors you were dealing with, they’re all players from Xingyu. Where’d you pull the data from? Was this deliberate against Xingyu? And with this hype that refuses to die down, isn’t there a possibility... you actually dragged in a personal grudge?"

Jiang Defu didn’t mention who this "someone" might be, but everyone understood instantly—and then exploded in outrage.

"Xingyu?! That explains everything!"

"Damn, what were you thinking? Targeting their whole corporate dynasty for this?"

"You’re insane!"

"I knew something was off—those investors joined forces way too quickly. Turns out they were all in cahoots from the start!"

"No wonder they managed to get their hands on such precise evidence. Just my luck, deal me in for this crap!"