As Luo Yu's final, sick and deranged laughter echoed through the film set.
"Cut! Good!"
Zhang Mouyi stood up abruptly from behind the monitor.
His face, originally calm, now had pupils that seed to be burning with fire. A hearty, full-throated praise that jolted everyone's hearts.
He left his seat, strode with purpose to the center of the set, his gaze sharp as a torch, staring directly at Luo Yu.
"You acted out that madness, the kind dried up by jealousy, the insanity that burns away reason."
Zhang Mouyi opened with lavish, unstinting praise.
"Very good."
This evaluation was extrely high.
Coming from the mouth of this set tyrant, its weight was as heavy as Mount Tai.
After a brief silence on set, a mix of astonished and reverent applause broke out.
Luo Yu's chest heaved violently. He slightly lifted his chin, greedily breathing in the air that belonged to a victor, basking in this recognition that was his alone.
Beside the monitor, Wen Nian's smile was perfectly curved, as if admiring the most outstanding piece of art she had ticulously polished.
Her gaze then drifted lightly towards the corner where Jiang Ci was.
The voice in Jiang Ci's heart was calm and unruffled.
Good.
Luo Yu, this ticulously raised "mad dog," had finally been fed to the brink of losing control.
And this was precisely what he needed—the best nourishnt to brew a top-tier tragedy.
Zhang Mouyi didn't let this atmosphere linger for too long. He waved his hand, and the applause stopped abruptly.
He didn't imdiately start the next scene.
Instead, he turned, walked back to the monitor, and picked up that thick script.
"What we're filming now is only the 'fruit'—the final presentation—of Chi Jie's character."
"Next, let's talk about the 'cause' that planted this 'fruit'."
Zhang Mouyi's action made everyone pause in surprise.
He opened the script, his gaze sweeping across the room.
"The script's setting: the Moth Demon tribe, their offspring can inherit the obsessions and power of the previous generation."
"A thousand years ago, Chi Jie's father was jointly sealed away by Ling Xi and Ye Chen, dying with eyes wide open, unable to rest in peace."
"His demonic power also remained trapped within the sealing array."
Zhang Mouyi's tone was matter-of-fact, as if narrating a destiny already written.
"So, Chi Jie kidnapping A Li isn't just for a hostage."
"He wants to force Ye Chen to personally break that seal."
"Ye Chen, of course, knows the consequences." Zhang Mouyi's eyes grew sharp.
"He knows that once the seal is broken, Chi Jie will absorb the demonic power accumulated over a thousand years, becoming a monster beyond his imagination."
"But," Zhang Mouyi paused, his words shifting direction, "at that ti, Ye Chen was extrely arrogant."
"He thought that even if Chi Jie grew stronger, he could handle it."
"He chose the most foolish, most arrogant plan: first break the seal, rescue A Li, then kill Chi Jie."
"And the result?"
Zhang Mouyi snapped the script shut with a loud 'smack!'
That sharp sound made everyone's hearts skip a beat.
"The result, he suffered a crushing defeat."
"The Shattered Star Blade was knocked flying in one move, the demon core he relied on for survival was shattered on the spot."
"He not only failed to save A Li, he almost lost his own life, and was ultimately rescued by Su Yan and Qing Yue at the cost of their own lives."
So that's how it was.
So that heart-pounding, thrilling scene about to unfold was actually built upon such a hopeless, crushing defeat.
Zhang Mouyi's gaze finally pierced through the crowd, firmly landing on Jiang Ci.
His tone was devoid of warmth.
"So, Jiang Ci."
"What you need to act now is a half-demon who has just suffered a crushing defeat, whose demon core is cracked, yet is going back to his death."
"Understood?"
After listening, Jiang Ci t Zhang Mouyi's scrutinizing gaze and nodded calmly.
This "confident and composed" appearance seed particularly grating in the eyes of Luo Yu, who was still riding the high of his peak performance.
Wen Nian once again leaned close to his ear at just the right mont.
"A-Yu, look."
"He had no reaction at all to your performance just now."
"Deep down, he thinks your all-out explosive performance isn't even worth ntioning."
"That's why he's so brazenly unafraid."
These words struck precisely at Luo Yu's most fragile point of pride as an "acting fanatic."
The self-satisfaction that had just risen on Luo Yu's face vanished without a trace.
The crew began clearing the set. Dried bloodstains and damaged weapons were arranged, making the entire scene's atmosphere even more despairing.
Chi Jie's scenes were temporarily over.
According to the script's setting, at this point, Chi Jie, believing his strength now surpasses Ye Chen's, returns to the sealing ground from a thousand years ago.
Leaving only A Li trapped on the giant tree.
Luo Yu would act as the "spectator," watching from behind the scenes this "good show" he had personally directed.
Zhang Mouyi looked at the already set-up scene and picked up the gaphone again.
"Jiang Ci, Su Qingying, touch up your makeup!"
"Filming starts in ten minutes!"
The makeup artist was using a brush to paint wounds on Jiang Ci's face.
Her task was to recreate the physical and ntal exhaustion of a half-demon who had suffered a crushing defeat.
"Stop for a mont."
Jiang Ci suddenly spoke.
The makeup artist's hand froze mid-air, sowhat at a loss.
Jiang Ci didn't look at her. He pointed at the red costu he was wearing, tapping a spot three inches below and to the side of his heart.
"Ask the Props Team to use the finest silver thread to embroider a crack here, at this spot."
An incomprehensible instruction.
The assistant in charge of costus nearby was stunned. "Teacher Jiang, this... such a fine mark, you won't even see it in a close-up, let alone with the cara right in your face."
Jiang Ci raised his head. He exuded an aura of deep calm.
"I just need to know, myself, that it's cracked."
The words were light, but they made several nearby crew mbers pause in their work.
This was a kind of perforr's obsession they couldn't understand.
Su Qingying sat on the other side, watching from afar, the worry in her heart growing heavier.
Soon, the props master rushed back, fulfilling Jiang Ci's request as quickly as possible.
That silver crack was so fine it almost blended into the fabric.
Jiang Ci gently ran his fingertip over that "crack," then closed his eyes.
The demon core was cracked, beyond saving.
He was a man about to die.
"All departnts, prepare!"
Zhang Mouyi's voice broke the silence on set.
"Action!"
At the command.
At the edge of Guixu Forest, a red figure slowly erged.
Jiang Ci appeared.
Dragging his "severely wounded" body, he walked step by step from the depths of the dense forest towards the giant tree imprisoning A Li.
Behind the monitor, Zhang Mouyi's brows furrowed tightly from the very first second.
Wrong.
Completely wrong.
The Ye Chen on screen showed none of the wretchedness he had anticipated, not a hint of the despondency of a loser.
Jiang Ci's posture was ramrod straight.
Not a defiant straightness, but the last pillar holding up the sky before a dynasty's collapse.
The Assistant Director beside Zhang Mouyi already had cold sweat beading on his forehead.
He could feel the director's anger about to erupt. He almost wanted to rush over and shout 'cut.'
But Zhang Mouyi didn't move.
He stared intently at the monitor.
He wanted a crushing defeat.
What Jiang Ci gave him was a dead end.
Luo Yu crossed his arms, leisurely enjoying the scene, ready to see how Jiang Ci would play a loser.
But when he saw the "Ye Chen" who walked out, all the sarcastic lines he had prepared got stuck in his throat.
The mockery on his face slowly froze.
Wen Nian's smile also stiffened.
The entire set had only the sound of Jiang Ci's footsteps echoing, neither hurried nor slow.
He finally reached the center of the clearing, stopped, and lifted his head.
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