After the sixth episode of season two of 'Attack on Titan', the storyline shifted dramatically. What had once focused on mystery and combat moved toward internal political struggles.
To be honest, political drama is a tough thing to write well. Unless it's written by someone who's stepped down from a political position and is drawing from real experience, most novelists or manga artists just can't portray it convincingly through imagination alone.
After all, art imitates life. Things invented out of thin air only fool beginners who know nothing.
Most political dramas that the general public can access are basically just the screenwriter's wild imagination. If you asked someone working in those real institutions if those plots were accurate, they'd probably just laugh and tell you the writing is nonsense.
And 'Attack on Titan' is no exception. This segment isn't bad per se, but compared to the earlier hype and shock value, it definitely feels weaker. In his previous life, many anime fans had criticized this portion for being overly simplistic and naive. Jing Yu made sure to fine-tune those details wherever possible.
As long as the main plot wasn't altered, he aimed to enhance what was already there — like the secret ruling families behind the walls, or the subtle foreshadowing within the Titan lore.
Those parts couldn't be changed. But certain characters' intelligence being drastically lowered — say, a character who appeared strong and composed at first but then folded after a few words from the enemy — that had to go. Maybe the original author thought it made sense, but from an audience's perspective, it's hard to believe soldiers who bet their lives would break so easily.
So Jing Yu cut what could be cut. If a plot point wasn't crucial, it was deleted.
Even though 'Attack on Titan' was considered a masterpiece up until the "Return to Shiganshina" arc in its past life, no masterpiece is flawless. It had just as many flaws as any other series — it's just that its strengths overshadowed its weaknesses.
It's like how when someone is ridiculously beautiful or handsome, their little flaws get ignored — or even reimagined as quirks.
Still, despite all of Jing Yu's polish, when the series aired, the buzz around 'Attack on Titan' still dropped a bit.
Week after week was dominated by dialogue-heavy scenes. There was one brief action moment when Levi's uncle appeared and fought, but it was over quickly.
"So are we just not going to talk about Bertholdt and Reiner anymore? It's been weeks, and I don't care for these human political twists. I want to see Eren fight them again."
"Well, yeah… This arc isn't as flashy, but it's definitely important for building the world."
"The tone changed way too suddenly. It was humanity vs. Titans for so long, and now it's just internal conflict and conspiracy inside the walls. Feels off."
"It's still good, just not exciting. Without action, the hype fades."
"Now 'Gundam SEED' — that's different. Every one or two episodes introduce a new enemy. There's always a Gundam battle. Its storytelling structure is more like 'Ultraman', but the plot is more mature, and the depiction of interstellar factions is clearer. 'Attack on Titan' just throws mysteries at you constantly."
"Watching 'Gundam SEED' is relaxing. Watching 'Attack on Titan' is exhausting. You need full brainpower."
"Maybe that's why 'Gundam' merchandise sells so well."
"Not just the merch. The 'Gundam SEED' game just dropped last week, and it's already sold nearly two million copies. 'Attack on Titan'? Barely 600k. Sigh."
"Honestly, 'Attack on Titan' pushes female viewers away. Watching the TV series is fine, but playing a game where you can be eaten by Titans if you mess up? Total turn-off. Many girls bailed after the preview."
"The story is amazing, no doubt. But once it's over, I have zero desire to buy the merch or games. 'Gundam SEED' may not be as intense, but just having a model on your desk feels cool. You can daydream about piloting one and instantly feel pumped."
"I just want to see Eren kill Reiner and Bertholdt. And that monkey Titan — you can tell he's no good."
After 'Attack on Titan''s post-Spring Festival episode topped 18% in viewership, it eventually stabilized around 15–16%.
Meanwhile, 'Gundam SEED' maintained a steady 14%, and the two continued to lead the holiday TV market.
Even though viewers had their gripes — whether it was 'Attack on Titan''s politics or 'Gundam SEED's twisted relationship between Flay and Kira, they were all still tolerable.
Over those few weeks, Jing Yu had been traveling around Great Zhou promoting both shows and their related games.
He had truly become a heavyweight in Great Zhou's entertainment industry.
Aside from his own fame, Bluestar Media & Film Company, his production house, had also earned a reputation that couldn't be ignored.
Jing Yu didn't handle the business side personally — that was Cheng Lie's job. Cheng Lie oversaw operations and led a professional team responsible for scaling the company.
Basically, as long as Jing Yu kept releasing hit content, it didn't matter if the business team was average — growth, influence, and recognition would follow naturally.
It's like a bull market: you could throw darts at random stocks and still profit. Bluestar Media didn't need gimmicks or risky strategies. They just had to manage operations properly, maintain good relations with officials, and avoid getting hit by higher-ups. With fair competition, few could rival Jing Yu. And even if a talented rival appeared occasionally, no one could match Jing Yu's output.
So even with a relatively small team, Bluestar was seen by the public as a legendary studio in the TV industry.
In the film world, it was catching up to the giants, too.
His past few movies had proven their worth. No one dared look down on Jing Yu or Bluestar Media anymore.
By March, several Bluestar productions were deep into post-production. For example, the actor scenes for 'Spirited Away' had wrapped, and the VFX phase had started. Luckily, the effects were neither complicated nor numerous, so it wouldn't take too long.
Meanwhile, 'Legal High', being a pure workplace drama, needed almost no visual effects. Post-production was nearly done, and the team was preparing to finalize the release date.
As for the game division...
Jing Yu looked at the report in hand.
"Progress is slow," he sighed.
He had gotten used to cranking out dramas in 1–2 months. Spending half a year or more on a big-budget production already felt painful.
But game development? That was on a whole other level. Titles like 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' and 'Pokémon' were both massive undertakings. Meeting Jing Yu's standards meant building not just the gameplay, but a whole immersive world — every system, battle mechanic, and bit of content had to be polished to perfection.
Even with extra manpower and funding, there was no way either game could launch this year.
That said, while Jing Yu had his eyes on 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' and 'Pokémon', the fans were way more hyped for the sequel to 'Rurouni Kenshin: Trust & Betrayal'.
After all, the original had been beloved for years. Even two 'Pokémon' trailers couldn't match the hype. It made sense that 'Kenshin's sequel had the most attention.
That game was progressing faster. If all went well, it could even be released by the end of the year.
"Still too slow," Jing Yu exhaled.
Games often took years. Some studios had to fundraise mid-project, taking 5–8 years to finish.
Jing Yu didn't lack money or people, and even with everyone working overtime, it would still take 1–2 years. That was hard for him to adapt to.
"But the profits are insane," Cheng Lie chuckled.
Compared to TV dramas, game revenue is way higher. People hesitate to pay a few yuan for an episode, but they'll spend hundreds on games and merch without blinking."
He'd seen the returns from 'Fate' and 'Evangelion'. In just 2–3 years, they had made over a billion yuan each in game sales. Meanwhile, they only sold their TV broadcast rights to Yunteng TV for just over 200 million.
"You should plan more sequel games. That way, fans are happy, and you don't need to stress out coming up with new IPs," Cheng Lie joked.
"Right now, 'Attack on Titan' and 'Gundam SEED' are at the peak of Great Zhou's TV industry. Once 'Attack on Titan' hits the top average rating, that'll probably be the peak of your screenwriting career. Breaking that record later — even for you — will be tough."
"Yeah, I agree," Jing Yu nodded.
TV as a medium was declining year by year. Even getting 15% today was a miracle. By next year, hitting 13% might be impossible. Most people had already shifted to streaming platforms.
"Once these current projects finish, I'll probably pull back from high-intensity creative work. I'll just be the boss and take it easy."
"You're retiring?" Cheng Lie blinked, caught off guard.
"Not retiring-retiring," Jing Yu rolled his eyes. "Just doing passion projects when I feel like it."
He was planning to do what Miyazaki did in his past life — announce retirement, then come back every few years with something new.
He couldn't fully quit. He loved acting too much. Seeing himself on the big screen still gave him a rush.
Only now, he'd do it for fun — not because he had to make money to feed hundreds of staff.
There were still lots of works he hadn't adapted, but even Jing Yu couldn't possibly bring over every hit from his past life. Now that the company was stable, there was no need to keep pushing himself so hard.
Cheng Lie understood.
With billions in cash flow and even more in IP value, Jing Yu had gone from broke to empire-building. He was already showing up on Great Zhou's rich list — even if near the bottom.
His copyrights alone made him incredibly valuable.
"Are you planning to settle down then?" Cheng Lie asked.
"Yeah, maybe start a family, enjoy life more," Jing Yu replied after a pause.
"You've had this planned for a while, huh?" Cheng Lie exhaled with a grin.
"Unlike you. You're pushing 40 and still not married. Planning to be a bachelor forever?"
The two Bluestar Media founders shared a laugh in the office.
Just a few years ago, they were low-level staff at Yunteng TV.
Now, even the top three stations combined might not match Bluestar's market value. Jing Yu's company was rising, while traditional TV was on the decline.
"Anyway, nothing's set yet," Cheng Lie stood up.
"But if you ever do announce your retirement from creating... I wonder how your tens of millions of fans will react?"
"Would they still curse you as 'old thief'? Or just beg you not to go?"
"If you left, wouldn't Great Zhou's drama industry fall into darkness?"
"You're exaggerating. There are lots of talented people. This industry won't fall just because of me," Jing Yu replied.
"But aren't most of them your fans? People who grew up watching your work, whose style mimics yours?"
"Some of them are getting close. But to reach your level?" Cheng Lie thought about 'Gundam', 'Attack on Titan', and others.
"Might take another 10–20 years."