The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion!

Unlike the shocked or frightened reactions of the audience around him, Huan Carlson stared excitedly at the massive screen hanging in the Arena.

He wasn’t just seeing a Shadow of Evil trailer; he was seeing the future of performance art, his own dream.

As the future heir to the Shepherd’s Theater Troupe, he had long grown tired of contemporary theater.

But the short film that had just played was completely different.

The people in it didn’t look like they were acting; it was as if everything was actually happening.

There were no convoluted words, no forced imitations of ancient noble accents, no rigid stage blocking, no cookie-cutter tabletop sets...

The actors were even allowed to speak with their regional accents.

In the theater, that was something you’d get caned for.

In comparison, even though it was just a clip, *Holy Mountain Journey* felt more like it featured living, breathing people, not puppets.

’Oh, alright, the zombie actors weren’t so living and breathing, but they were great too, a perfect match for how I imagine a Necromancer’s creations. If that’s not what they’re like in real life, then it must be the Necromancer’s fault.’

Zog Film Studio.

He memorized the name. ’How on earth did they film something like that?’

He had seen a Shadow of Evil before—those short Yo-Yo films. Even back then, he had felt the technology had a promising future, but he never expected it to develop so quickly.

Two months ago, he had tried to convince his father to introduce this technology to the Shepherd’s Theater Troupe, but he was criticized for pursuing "improper novelties" and straying from the proper path.

’No, I have to try again. The Shepherd’s is already the lowest-ranked of the city’s three major theater troupes. Many people think we don’t even deserve to be mentioned in the same breath as the Purple Lily and Swan Castle.’

’If I don’t seize this opportunity, we’ll never have a chance to make a comeback.’

With that thought, he decided not to stay for the rest of the Yo-Yo competition.

He turned to his friend and said, "Something urgent came up. I have to go."

Before his friend could reply, he bolted for the Arena’s exit, hailed a carriage, and headed back to the Cowboy Theater.

The theater was located by the Siren River. In its heyday, it was a regular haunt for celebrities from all walks of life, but now it seemed rather deserted. It had been a long time since a critically and commercially successful hit had been staged there.

"Young Master." A servant bowed hastily as Huan stepped out of the carriage.

"Is my father in?"

"In his study."

Huan took the stairs two at a time and rushed up, only to find the study door shut tight. He knew what that meant: his father was meeting with a guest.

He heard his father’s urgent voice from inside.

"This is the highest price I can offer. You know the other troupes won’t pay that much for this script."

"You really need this script, don’t you? Just look at your theater. Is your attendance even at a third of capacity these days?"

"This is just a temporary slump. The Shepherd’s will overcome this. With your script, we won’t forget the help you’ve given us."

"How about this? I have a better proposal. Transfer ownership of the theater to me. You can still perform here, and I’ll even give you the script for free."

"You must be joking."

"Do I look like I’m joking?"

"That’s impossible. This theater is my life’s work, half a lifetime of blood and sweat."

"What a shame. I guess I’ll just have to wait for all that blood and sweat to dry up."

The study door opened, and a lavishly dressed man stepped out. Seeing Huan waiting outside, he tipped his hat in acknowledgment.

Inside the study, his father sat dejectedly in his chair. Huan had often seen him like this in recent months.

"Father," Huan said, walking into the study. "I know how to bring the Cowboy Theater back to life."

"Tell me about it." He looked up, forcing a very stiff smile.

Huan knew his father wasn’t holding out much hope; he just didn’t want to embarrass him.

"Have you heard of Shadow of Evil? We should learn to make them! We can start with *Holy Mountain Journey*—oh, *Holy Mountain Journey* is a Shadow of Evil premiering next week. Can you even imagine? I’ve never seen such realistic images! Our theater could screen them too..."

His father held up a hand, signaling for the excited Huan to pause, then pulled a letter from his desk.

"Take a look."

"What is this?"

"An invitation from Zog Film Studio."

Huan opened the letter. It was an invitation for all the city’s theaters to screen *Holy Mountain Journey*, stating that the theaters who partnered with them earlier would receive a higher share of the profits.

"Isn’t this perfect? They’ve invited everyone! What are we waiting for? If we’re late, we won’t get that higher cut!"

"Don’t you understand? This is a declaration of war on the entire theater industry, forcing every theater to pick a side. If we screen *Holy Mountain Journey*, do you think the Shepherd’s will ever be accepted by the industry?"

"They never accepted us in the first place!" Huan’s voice cracked with indignation.

The Shepherd’s rise had not been easy. They started out on the streets, performing comedies, and comedy had always been at the bottom of the industry’s pecking order.

Only after their fame grew and their audiences swelled did they manage to move into a grand theater and become a renowned troupe.

Their subsequent attempts to transition to serious dramas all ended in failure, causing the troupe’s fortunes to decline steadily.

Eventually, even their signature comedies failed to win over audiences.

The traditional theater industry had never truly accepted them. They had only held their noses and acknowledged the Shepherd’s when they were making money, all while waiting for every opportunity to kick them when they were down.

"I’ve worked for so many years just to gain the industry’s acceptance. I’ve come too far. I don’t have the courage to start all over again."

His father’s tone was filled with resignation.

"So we’re just supposed to wait here and die? The theater is already on the verge of collapse! Even if Shadow of Evil isn’t a success, could things possibly get any worse for us?"

"But there are so many people in the troupe who need to eat. If the theater is used to screen Shadow of Evil, what will happen to them?"

"They can make Shadow of Evil too! I recognize the actors in *Holy Mountain Journey*. They’re from the Mixed Giant Beast Corps. If they can do it, so can the Shepherd’s!"

His father ran a conflicted hand through his graying hair.

"Father!" Huan’s voice was almost a plea. "If you were your younger self, would you be so timid?!"

---

A carriage bearing the emblem of the Shepherd’s Theater Troupe traveled down Chrysanthemum Street.

The square on the north side of the street had been set up with a screen and chairs, apparently another temporary screening location for Shadow of Evil.

Huan never would have guessed that the team behind *Holy Mountain Journey* was based in a toy store.

When he reached the third floor, he was greeted by a lone girl who looked even younger than him.

’Oh, and a Sub-Dragon.’

"The Cowboy Theater can screen *Holy Mountain Journey*, but on one condition: we want to learn the Shadow Demon Technique."

"What do you want to use Shadow of Evil for?" Elsa asked.

"To film comedies."

"Do you have a script?"

"I do." More passionate about screenwriting than acting, Huan always carried his proudest work with him.

Elsa took the script.

Zog took a look. To be honest, it was competently written. Compared to the current style of playwriting, it was closer to a film’s structure.

But there was one thing he couldn’t take seriously: the protagonist, a young delivery man whose parents were Ordinary farmers, somehow lived in a single-room apartment in the Riverfront District, worked six hours a day, and spent the rest of his time reading and bettering himself.

"It’s pretty funny."

"Thank you."

"No, I don’t mean the content of the script is funny. I mean the script itself is laughable."

Huan was so taken aback he couldn’t speak, his face turning visibly red.

"How about this: I can teach you the Shadow Demon Technique. No upfront payment. We’ll settle the profit-sharing after the work is completed."

"Really?" Huan was overjoyed.

"But there’s a condition. I recall the Shepherd’s clawed its way up from the streets. You’re to go to the Mixed Zone and perform comedy on the streets for a month. After that, take another look at your script and see if it can be improved. Then we can talk about the Shadow Demon Technique."

Huan nodded. He had no other choice.

"For now, though, let’s get ready for the release of *Holy Mountain Journey*."