By now, there was no longer any suspense about who the king of Great Zhou's television industry was each season.
Jing Yu's decade-long consistency in the film and TV world had made him the undisputed superstar of the industry. Even if the 'Pokémon' drama had been mediocre in quality, unless Jing Yu released four or five straight flops, no other work could really compete with him at this point.
It was like in his previous life with shows like 'Bleach', 'Naruto', and 'One Piece'—even when the storylines became a mess later on, their popularity still crushed newer anime. A decade of accumulated fan loyalty wasn't something that could be shaken easily.
So once October rolled around, the ratings for the 'Pokémon' drama naturally shot straight to the top, no surprise there.
Still, the same problems remained—whether it was 'Pokémon' or 'Yu-Gi-Oh!', these kinds of works were highly commercial and very entertaining.
But just like popcorn flicks, people loved watching them, yet gave them average ratings.
High viewership, strong merchandise sales—but the emotional impact just didn't compare to Jing Yu's earlier, more heartfelt creations.
With both 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' and 'Pokémon' falling into that category, it wasn't long before the media started putting out the usual "Jing Yu's chasing the bag now" kind of articles again.
Fortunately, Jing Yu's schedule had begun to ease up.
The backlog of projects from previous months was now mostly off his plate. With Season 1 of both 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' and 'Pokémon' complete, even though their second-gen games were about to launch,
He didn't need to be hands-on anymore.
Release dates, distribution channels, and marketing plans were all running smoothly, thanks to the experience built from the first-gen releases.
Not just in Great Zhou—global platforms had already begun promoting the pre-orders.
After all, the end of the year was always when the biggest titles in the global gaming industry were released.
And among those, 'Pokémon 2' and 'Yu-Gi-Oh! 2' were top-tier releases in the minds of players worldwide.
The first-gen games had delivered outstanding gameplay, and their massive player base ensured that both sequels were among the most highly anticipated and pre-ordered games in the world.
Around this time, Jing Yu celebrated his 35th birthday.
Yu Youqing, Cheng Lie, and Xia Yining gathered at Jing Yu's home for a small celebration.
In the past, they were always too busy filming to make a big deal out of birthdays, but now, all four of them were semi-retired.
Thanks to good living habits and regular exercise, Jing Yu, Yu Youqing, and Xia Yining all still looked like they were in their twenties.
They almost had that "ageless celebrity" vibe—like Lin Zhiying from Jing Yu's past life.
As shareholders of BlueStar Media, Jing Yu's position needed no elaboration. Even without seeking IPOs or stock market funding, the company's valuation, just from its IP assets (not counting the blockbuster series like 'Pokémon' and 'Yu-Gi-Oh!'), was easily worth hundreds of billions.
Jing Yu had no idea what his personal net worth was anymore. IP value is always subjective.
But what wasn't subjective was the 100–200 billion yuan sitting in the company's accounts—real cash.
And as Jing Yu became increasingly famous overseas, his past works were being picked up by international distributors. Even if he did absolutely nothing for a month, just the licensing fees raked in tens of millions.
How much does a top-tier actor in Great Zhou make per drama?
Maybe 30 million yuan.
Jing Yu made more than that passively in just a few days.
Cheng Lie and Xia Yining, despite having smaller shares, still made tens of millions each year from their stake in BlueStar.
And for shows where they had acted or contributed to production, they received additional IP royalties.
Even doing nothing, they could each earn over 100 million yuan annually.
All four of them had reached a point where acting was no longer a necessity.
They hadn't quit entirely, but if they did act again, it would be purely for fun.
"Hard to believe it's been ten years... Jing Yu, you're already thirty-five," Cheng Lie sighed.
"So what? Thirty-five is still young and in your prime," Xia Yining said while eating fruit from the platter.
"Just feeling nostalgic. I can still vividly remember the first time we all worked together."
"Alright, enough with the sentimentality. This is my birthday party, not a reunion special," Jing Yu said, trying to stop the two from getting carried away.
Yu Youqing brought out a custom cake and lit the candles one by one.
"Make a wish," she smiled. Under the candlelight, her face looked even more beautiful.
Jing Yu's friends fell silent.
"A wish? Is that necessary?"
"Of course it is. That's the whole point of a birthday party!"
"Alright then..." Jing Yu closed his eyes and playfully made a wish.
"I hope it doesn't rain tomorrow and ruin my mood."
He blew out the candles with a puff of breath.
And just like that, he stepped into his thirty-fifth year.
It had been eleven to twelve years since he came to this world.
From a nobody, he had become one of the top names in global entertainment.
Even with his advantage as a transmigrator, it hadn't been easy.
Enduring loneliness for over a decade, constantly pushing out new works—it was no easy feat.
Most people would go full slacker mode after hitting their first billion,
but not Jing Yu.
He still ran the company seriously, still expanded his businesses with ambition.
"If moving to Modo was the turning point of my life, then in this first decade, we've already become #1 in Great Zhou's entertainment industry," Jing Yu said while cutting the cake.
"Top box office. Top TV ratings. Dominating the gaming scene. This phase is complete."
"And the next ten years…"
"You have another ten-year plan?" Xia Yining raised an eyebrow.
"Shouldn't your next decade be about settling down and having kids with Yu-jie?"
Jing Yu gave her an awkward glance, ignored the teasing, and continued.
"The goal for the next ten years is to turn BlueStar Media into the number one entertainment company in the world."
"That's... ambitious," Cheng Lie muttered.
"I mean it," Jing Yu said confidently.
"We've got the capital, the network, and more than enough IP. Time to step up."
"But does it even matter if you're number one in Great Zhou or the world?" Xia Yining asked.
"You don't really care if the company makes more or less, right?"
"Maybe. But people need goals," Jing Yu replied.
"So what happens if we do reach global number one?"
"Then I'll finally retire and be a full-time slacker," he laughed.
"Ha! Then you'll be working forever. Took you ten years to conquer the Great Zhou. Going global might take a lifetime."
"Alright, enough talking. The cake's getting cold!" Yu Youqing interjected.
The four picked up their forks and dug in. The taste, crafted by a master pâtissier, was so good it silenced them.
Yu Youqing snapped a group photo and uploaded it to Jing Yu's social media.
Within just half an hour, his comment section was flooded with hundreds of thousands of birthday wishes.
"Happy Birthday," the three friends said in unison.
Late November arrived.
The launch of 'Yu-Gi-Oh! 2' was next.
The trailers had already revealed plenty of spoilers:
A new protagonist
A massive batch of new cards
Revamped game mechanics
Every card game fan in the world was eager to see what those new effects would be.
Even just for that reason alone, everyone wanted to buy it.
Pre-order numbers were exploding in the days leading up to launch:
1 million...
1.3 million...
1.6 million...
1.9 million...
And on the eve of launch, 2 million pre-orders.
Usually, numbers like this were reserved for long-running franchises with lots of excellent entries.
Think 'Final Fantasy', 'GTA', 'The Witcher', 'Need for Speed'—titles that earned player trust over the years.
But 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' had only launched one year ago.
Jing Yu clearly intended to turn both 'Yu-Gi-Oh!' and 'Pokémon' into long-running series.
Still, no one expected this level of success.
Clearly, the loyalty from players of the first game was off the charts.
On launch day, as sales kept rising,
forums and fan groups around the world exploded.
"I can't stop, bros! 'Yu-Gi-Oh! 2' is too good!"
"I didn't expect such a drastic shift in tone. In the first game, I thought I was beating bosses with my own skill—then I watched a streamer's guide and realized everything was pre-scripted!"
"But in Gen 2, everything is randomized. Even with default decks, different streamers beat the same boss in different ways."
"Sure, the story isn't as strong, but the gameplay is WAY better than the first."
"Ugh, am I the only one who can't even beat the tutorial AI? I've failed ten times and still can't leave the starter village."
"Just keep grinding, sis. If you can't get past the tutorial, you're gonna suffer later on."
"Anyone unlocked online mode yet? I want to see real-time PvP battles!"
"Give it a day or two. People are grinding hard—some streamers will go live with real duels soon."
"This game's expensive and brutal. But I'm holding on because I want to duel other players. Let's go!"
On launch day, 'Yu-Gi-Oh! 2' sold 2.49 million copies.
While not far above pre-orders, it was still the highest first-day sales figure in recent years in the global industry.
Although only the first game had the best storyline,
Later games with new protagonists and increasingly powerful cards still had a strong appeal.
So Gen 2 focused on competitive PvP and deliberately toned down the story.
And yet—even without a great plot—it still received widespread praise.
Why?
Because the gameplay was too fresh, the new cards were too cool,
And honestly, people weren't here for the story anyway.