Chapter 211: To the Point

The intricacies behind this are probably best left to be asked of the British government in Hong Kong. However, Xiao Ran had no complaints about this—regardless of country or region, grading is always a difficult task to balance perfectly. For example, a war film like “The Great Decisive Battle” from the mainland was downgraded to a Category 3 film in Hong Kong due to its excessive violence, which was quite unexpected.

Film grading is a minefield, where anyone could step on a landmine. Moreover, Xiao Ran was well aware that this film relied not on children but on mature audiences with critical thinking skills, targeting those who enjoyed sensory stimulation.

The movie began, with Xiao Ran’s name appearing first in the credits under “Creative” and then as “Producer.” The initial quiet scenes were somewhat similar to those in “The Terminator,” with dust and paper swirling toward a central point, from which a powerful beam of black light emerged, looking like a lightning strike.

After the beam of black light, a naked man appeared. However, his posture was different from that in “The Terminator 2”—instead of standing upright, he was crouched, adding to the film’s cool and intense atmosphere.

What amused Xiao Ran was that Chen Musheng also preferred to wait until after a scene was acted out before adding subtitles, just like him. This wasn’t a big deal in itself, but Chen Musheng clearly shared many of Xiao Ran’s styles, making Xiao Ran wonder if Chen Musheng might actually be Ah Du’s disciple.

Next, the protagonist, Su Renyao, appeared. The only difference was that he appeared amidst a blinding white light, subtly hinting at their opposing positions. The film then delved into its main theme, with a story that resembled “The Terminator 2” in structure but differed significantly in content.

However, the action sequences were largely similar. It was just that different techniques were used, resulting in different effects. In the chase scene, state-of-the-art sound technology delivered the sounds of the pursuit and battle very clearly.

It had to be admitted that editing truly has the power to turn the ordinary into the extraordinary. What started as a simple fight in a ditch in the mainland, thanks to clever editing and setting, appeared flawless, leaving audiences wondering where such a place even existed in Hong Kong.

Chen Musheng used very different techniques in this chase scene, both in terms of camera work and other elements. He drove the narrative forward at a mesmerizing pace, combined with a strong rhythm, making the chase scene even more intense in terms of energy and pace.

Interesting, Xiao Ran thought. Foreign action films generally rely on plot to convey tension and engage the audience’s emotions, while Hong Kong films tend to focus on creating action sequences. Perhaps this is one of the reasons why Hong Kong films are so intense—and it’s also one of the strengths Xiao Ran hoped to bring out.

The chase scene was really interesting. Chen Musheng focused on speed and rhythm to create a sense of pressure and tension among the audience. What should have been a six- to seven-minute climax actually gave Xiao Ran the impression of being seamlessly executed. Truly, he was indeed the director behind “Street Fury”! Xiao Ran admired him greatly and completely forgot at that moment how influential Chen Musheng was. Even this single scene resembled the ten-minute chase in “Espionage”. If it weren’t for Chen Musheng realizing he couldn’t control a ten-minute chase during editing, the chase scene on screen would have been at least that long.

However, it must be admitted that Xiao Ran’s chase scenes in “Espionage” were also influenced by Chen Musheng’s “Street Fury”, with an intentional emphasis on tension and rhythm. Of course, those delicate close-up shots that didn’t disrupt the flow were his own attempts, something Chen Musheng couldn’t achieve.

But that doesn’t mean this scene wasn’t as exciting as the classic chase in “Espionage”. On the contrary, as the heavy truck was blown up by Su Renyao’s shot and then coincidentally ran over a huge rock on the ground, it quickly took off. At the moment it soared into the air, the truck exploded with crackling sounds. As it passed over Su Renyao’s head, an even more violent explosion occurred, and the advanced sound effects made the entire theater feel as if it were being lifted by the shockwave. Su Renyao, meanwhile, stared calmly as the truck flew over his head—extremely cool.

At this point, Xiao Ran was deeply impressed by Chen Musheng’s control over the timing of the explosions. What surprised him even more was that Chen Musheng thought of using the debris from the explosions to fly past Su Renyao to create fear among the audience and simultaneously shape Su Renyao’s character. This detail was clever and effective.

As the truck crashed heavily onto the ground, the theater seemed to vibrate as well, and the audience felt their hearts pounding at that moment. The truck smashed into a bridge pillar, turning the once huge vehicle into something resembling a discus, followed by an even more violent explosion. The camera switched to a close-up view from below, showing flames rolling up as if trying to set everyone on fire.

Wei Dongling beside Xiao Ran was utterly thrilled, his heart pounding uncontrollably. If possible, he would have shouted in excitement. After Su Renyao and the young man left on motorcycles, a huge piece of iron flew out of the flames and landed right in front of the camera, making the audience tense again.

A figure gradually became clear in the flames—walking out was Zhang Wenle, still with his head slightly lowered, exuding an extremely fierce and cold demeanor. The audience finally couldn’t help but exclaim in shock; they never expected such explosions to still not be able to kill this guy.

For Xiao Ran, the special effects in this scene were somewhat disappointing. To someone who had seen special effects masterpieces like “The Day After Tomorrow”, the effects in this film clearly fell short of his expectations. But upon closer thought, given people’s current viewing standards, it was impossible to spot any flaws.

It must be admitted that the film was a success—absolutely a huge success. By the end of the film, many viewers were so stunned that they forgot to stand up from their seats; perhaps they simply enjoyed the comfort of their seats. The film indeed achieved tremendous success. Renowned film critics like Lee Cheuk-tao wrote in newspapers and magazines the next day, expressing their utmost admiration for the film in a highly astonished tone. They called it the most powerful and innovative science fiction film in Hong Kong’s history, with the computer effects and the liquid metal character leaving every viewer in awe. According to Lee Cheuk-tao’s article, he seriously affirmed that it was an excellent film, possibly even the best of the year. Especially the chase scene in the middle of the film—unlike the classic chase scene in “Spy Change,” this one emphasized technical excellence, truly befitting a blockbuster. The chase scene in “Spy Change” was highly technical; when Shaw Yan handled it, there were no such grand set pieces, and he relied entirely on rhythm and scene manipulation to control the action. This was a demonstration of his masterful directing skills, which is why Shaw Yan won the Best Director award. The only thing that slightly disappointed Shaw Yan was that Chen Musheng failed to fully convey the film’s thematic intent, leaving it somewhat obscured and fragmented. As a result, the film didn’t reach the same level as the original, though its action sequences far surpassed them. Chen Musheng clearly imitated Shaw Yan, even repeating the mistakes Shaw Yan made in “Spy Change.” Back then, Shaw Yan had no choice but to cut out the key elements related to family and country, which made the theme somewhat confusing. Chen Musheng, unaware of this nuance, made such a mistake, which was truly regrettable. After watching the film, Shaw Yan and Wei Dongling went straight to Shaw Yan’s house. After greeting his parents and avoiding Shaw Han’s presence, they discussed highly confidential matters in the study. Wei Dongling relaxed and laughed, saying, “Now I’m relieved. With this film, we’ll definitely win both the summer champion and the annual champion!” Shaw Yan nodded in agreement. He believed that with “Phantom”’s distribution capabilities and the film’s outstanding quality, it would easily create a global sensation. For the West, such a scientifically logical film was unlikely to be resisted. After some thought, he quickly made a decision: “Let’s schedule the encirclement in three days. By then, the box office results for the film’s premiere will be out, dealing a devastating blow to Mo Huaien’s confidence. When he’s demoralized, we’ll launch a full-scale attack—there’s no way he can win.” “Three days later…” Wei Dongling thought for a moment and agreed that the timing worked, then nodded. “I’ll contact Li Superman tomorrow. By then, we’ll send him from heaven to hell!” “In the past couple of months, Guoli has invested in several industries, with seven hundred million available for deployment!” Like Shaw Yan, Wei Dongling also had a mysterious expression. “As for Hongwei, he just took out a loan to buy a piece of land last month; now he has less than two hundred million in liquid funds!”

“In that case, there are still nine hundred million left. If we add Liyou Bank into the equation, things get really complicated!” Xiao Ran smiled lightly. Everything was under his control—how could he not be pleased? “Let me think. A few days ago, Guoli applied to Liyou for a loan. By procedure, it might take some time. But we don’t need to take that risk. Let’s expose this matter tomorrow and ruin Guoli’s loan application!”

The next day, Asia’s renowned financial newspaper, Asia Wall Street, revealed that Liyou Bank had violated procedures by granting Guoli Group loans totaling 5.7 billion. Moreover, it exposed problems with Liyou’s accounts. On the same day, major South Korean newspapers also published reports on this scandal. Suddenly, both Guoli Group and Liyou became the focus of South Korea’s financial world. Liyou Bank hurriedly denied any such incidents, and Guoli also tried desperately to defend itself.

However, on the third day, faced with evidence handed over by an anonymous source, the South Korean government was forced to launch an investigation into the scandal. The stocks of companies involved in Guoli Group plummeted, drastically reducing their wealth. Worse still, their investments began to face problems of varying degrees, requiring substantial funds to cover them.

By the fourth day, it was time for Hongguo and Shadow to face off. Mo Huaien had been uneasy since the day before; he had always sensed a conspiracy. He thought everything was fine before, but problems suddenly arose. Another investor in Hongguo was Guoli, and now all of Guoli’s businesses were under investigation, putting them in a dire situation. Now, the only one who could help him was himself.

He was relieved that companies like Li Chao Ren and Xiao Ran had announced plans to develop that area, causing his land’s value to double almost instantly, adding 1.2 billion to Hongwei Assets. But then, he suddenly felt uneasy again, though he couldn’t figure out where the feeling came from. Perhaps… it was time to sell that land. His intuition told him that the land was most likely to cause problems. If its value dropped, it could trigger a chain reaction, leading to bank debt collection and even bankruptcy.

He was now in a car with Tielong, heading to the premiere theater. Thinking of this, he quickly took out his cell phone and called several wealthy individuals who had previously offered over a billion to buy that land. Some couldn’t be reached, while others were too busy to talk on the phone.

Mo Huaien’s unease grew stronger, and his initial confidence faded. He calculated that if something went wrong with the land, funding would be at risk. Unfortunately, his loan application to Liyou Bank had already been frozen. If Liyou Bank faced problems, it would directly affect him and Guoli.

While he was filled with resentment, Tie Long was in high spirits, thinking confidently that if he could break Phantom’s dominance in the box office and become champion this time, he could use that opportunity to secure distribution rights in some regions. Next year, he could release another blockbuster like “Espionage” and use its success to gain distribution rights in Japan, after which he would rule Hong Kong.

Xiao Ran had gone from a screenwriter to a director and then to the owner of a film company, dominating Hong Kong’s film industry. Tie Long could do the same—he had begun to believe in his own talent since his works became successful.

However, he might have overlooked one thing: his confidence came from Xiao Ran in the first place, and even his plans seemed to be a replica of Xiao Ran’s rise to success. But he didn’t realize that Xiao Ran’s path might not suit him after all. If success were that easy, all we needed to do was copy any wealthy person’s rise to success—wouldn’t that mean everyone could become rich?

Whether out of deliberate avoidance or obsession, Tie Long was determined that his rival was Xiao Ran and looked down on everyone else. In present-day Hong Kong, aside from Xiao Ran, he had the most successful films, so it wasn’t surprising he had such confidence.

Upon arriving at the premiere venue, he quickly steadied himself, trying not to let his emotions show. This was a skill every boss must possess, wasn’t it? Getting off the car with the emotionally charged Tie Long, he saw only some staff members and a few second-rate actors inside, which made his heart sink.

At that moment, he felt like he had seen this scene somewhere before! Where? Mo Huaien and Tie Long racked their brains but couldn’t recall. Checking the time, there were still twenty minutes before the official premiere—probably they hadn’t arrived yet.

Mo Huaien found a chair and sat down, continuing to call frantically on his cell phone. Yet, there was still no news. Finally, a wealthy man answered his call, and he immediately asked, “Lao Wang, didn’t you want that piece of land? Here’s your chance—don’t mess this up…”

“Sorry, Mo, I’m not interested in that land at all now!” came a cold reply. “Keep it for yourself!”

Mo Huaien’s heart pounded violently, his face turning dark as he dared not even consider the possibilities. His body trembled slightly as the ominous feeling reached its peak. Just then, his phone rang, and an assistant’s panicked voice came through.

“Boss, all those stars… they’re all at Phantom’s premiere!”

The voice was loud enough for Tie Long beside him to hear. Both of their faces turned deathly pale as they realized where they had seen this scene before—it was during the final battle between Xiao Ran and Fang Ruohai. Scanning the venue, they saw only a few actors, a few obscure filmmakers, and reporters from small magazines—evidence of its desolate emptiness.

Mo Huaien and Tie Long felt as if their hearts were being squeezed by Xiao Ran, so tightly that they could hardly breathe. They finally realized they had lost—lost to Xiao Ran’s seemingly identical tactic! On the surface, the move seemed repetitive, but what was the truth? At the premiere in the movie theater, artists such as Zhong Chuhong, Su Renyao, and Miao Liyun were present. Of course, this event was far more grand than the battle with Hai Le before; Xiao Ran no longer needed Hong Kong artists to choose a side, as they were always on his side. However, there were many media outlets present—both the Oriental Press Group, which had reconciled with Xiao Ran, and the Ming Pao Group led by Jin Yong, as well as the Ta Kung Pao. Publications under the Shadow Group, such as the New Paper and Influence Magazine, also sent reporters, making it an extremely lively scene.