[An alien from another world playing Earth games] [No system/The protagonist is essentially the system himself] [Slice of life] [Entire group portrait] [A barely manageable story of opening a shop in another world]

The Illusionist faction is targeted by the Heavenly Dao. A genius Illusionist who transmigrated to another world has no choice but to become stronger and make a living by copying games in another world.

"If only I could come to Earth and play games..." Yao Qian thought to himself as he looked at these players who were engrossed in leveling up and fighting monsters.

Let "Journey to the West" and "Romance of the Three Kingdoms" resound throughout another world;

Make gaming a form of entertainment for everyone;

Let Yagami continue to be imitated in another world;

Show the dwarfs "Snow White";

Let the gods watch "The Fairy Couple";

Let the warlike demons defeat the seven demon kings of Hell in Diablo;

...

Shang Jingyan wakes up in the interstellar era and quickly realizes—this world is weird.

The arts have flourished, and entertainment comes in all shapes and sizes. But there’s one glaring omission: darkness. No horror, no fear, nothing remotely unsettling. Instead, the entire galaxy is obsessed with love stories, dreamy fantasies, and endless pink bubbles.

System: “Your mission is to become a literary icon! Collect ‘Heartbeat Points’ by making audiences swoon!”

Former horror director Shang Jingyan: “Got it. No problem.”

A few days later, a short film titled Married to an Eldritch God goes live. The opening shot? A cosmic horror’s grotesque visage filling the screen. The middle? Blood, madness, and creeping dread. The ending? Unspeakable.

—Statistically, every single unfortunate viewer’s heart rate that night skyrocketed to 180 bpm.

System: “Wait… WHAT?! This works too?!”

Viewer A: “I only watch romance shows… Wait, horror is actually amazing?!”

Gamer B: “I just wanted to romance the NPCs… Ghost, prepare to die!”

Casual Viewer C: “I’m not scared of anything—oh hell no, I’m not sleeping tonight.”

With sheer creative force, Shang Jingyan ignites a horror frenzy across the galaxy.

They say she can terrify an entire civilization with just three sentences:

“I’m making a movie.”

“I’m developing a game.”

“I’m directing a variety show.”

And yet, despite the screams and tears, people just. Keep. Watching.

Years later, critics would say:

“She was the queen of the Second Galactic Era, the one who reintroduced fear and rage to the masses.”

“She created countless works, all to deliver a single message—”

“I will awaken your nightmares. So scream for me. Let your heart race!”

"Now, a brief interruption: a war criminal named Lu Qian. It is alleged that he committed crimes including, but not limited to, those listed below: 'Turning his own customers into food in his restaurant;' 'Connecting sewage pipes to the city's drinking water system to boost healthcare stock prices;' 'Using neutron beams to brutally annihilate an entire planet of aliens…' Citizens, please be wary of this heinous war criminal." Lu Qian stared blankly at his own photo in the marketing article. He just made a game, how could he be a war criminal? The next day, Lu Qian solemnly clarified in the *Game Observer*: "Who said I'm a war criminal? The games we make always promote truth, goodness, and beauty; it's just that players have misunderstood. Besides, I haven't been caught, how could I be a war criminal!"

Where can I find a high-quality workforce that's free, willing to endure hardships, and available on demand? After finally securing his own plot of land on the chaotic borders of the Empire, Damien, a Dragonborn night watchman with a lord system, fell into deep thought. A tide of golems? An army of the undead? Mass-produced servitors? The Fourth Scourge? After much deliberation, he arrived at a nearly perfect answer that capitalized on its strengths and minimized its weaknesses: sandbox isolation, allowing players to remotely screw in on their computers! Thus, a highly flexible, ultra-hardcore skeleton assembly game called "Bone Puzzle" was born. To prove they weren't cowards, millions of medical students toiled tirelessly. Then came the similarly named "Aoyao Yao," the bizarrely named "Zhenbi," and the nearly online-banned "Steel and Gunpowder"...