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

The last few days had been rough for Raghu Kurman.

As the old saying goes, it’s not the thief who steals that you should fear, but the one who has you in their sights.

Elsa might not have been a thief, but she certainly had her sights set on him, which left him feeling very insecure.

He investigated Elsa’s life and found her background to be downright bizarre.

Before the age of nineteen, she was completely ordinary. Her parents were just small-town merchants who ran a little shop. Her brother was something of a bookworm who tested his way into a big city but hadn’t made much of himself yet.

She, on the other hand, had been lucky enough to awaken a talent for Magic. It was only Illusion Technique, which didn’t have much of a future, but it was better than nothing. She had only reached the rank of Level Two Illusionist before graduating, which probably meant her potential was limited.

The length of study at the Caster Academy was flexible. Students were usually scheduled for graduation once they were deemed to have approached their talent’s upper limit. So, unlike other schools, the ones who graduated later here were typically the true masters.

And Elsa had graduated at nineteen.

It was after this that things suddenly took a sharp turn.

First, she acquired a building on Chrysanthemum Street that even someone with his financial power would have to think long and hard about. Then, in less than half a year, she developed the largest toy store in the city. Her Yo-Yos and Magic Cubes were being sold along the railways, out of the country, and across the Continent. And now she’d come up with this Shadow of Evil?

In Raghu’s worldview, a situation like this usually meant one thing: she had a powerful backer. She was just a front for some great house to rake in cash.

He first suspected she was backed by the Craig Clan, since their young master visited Zog’s Toy Store eight times a month.

But that didn’t seem right, either. Although the Craig Clan was illustrious, that young master was basically a half-wit.

Logically, there should have been some rumors about something like this, but there wasn’t a single reliable whisper about who was behind Elsa.

The unknown breeds fear.

In his worldview, the strong should thoroughly humiliate the weak—the prerequisite being that you know who is strong and who is weak. So until he had a clear picture of her background, Raghu, who was used to swaggering through the underworld of Twin Tower City, didn’t dare to make a rash move.

"Boss, the premiere of Holy Mountain Journey is about to start. Should we depart?"

"Alright, let’s go."

Curious about how his own Potion Factory would be portrayed in the Shadow of Evil—and wanting to know what Elsa was planning—he had paid a high price for tickets to the premiere.

To show that he was now part of the upper class, he bought a ticket for one of the most expensive private boxes.

When the theater darkened and Soron’s face appeared on the screen, his sense of unease intensified.

With a Legendary Mage appearing in the Shadow of Evil, Elsa’s background seemed all the more unfathomable.

"What do you mean, all the Healing Potions from the Kuerman Potion Factory are defective?"

Raghu found himself asking the same question as the character on screen.

’How do they know?’

"Can we sue this studio? For defamation or something," Raghu asked his assistant.

"It would be difficult. They exploited a loophole by not using the Potion Factory’s full name. It’s just like how they can’t sue us for making Fire Thunder Young King."

Dissatisfied, Raghu slammed his wine glass down on the table.

The rest of the plot made his blood pressure soar. It portrayed the Potion Factory as a Necromancer’s conspiracy and the Healing Potions as the main cause of a zombie crisis.

Raghu was happy to have his Potion Factory featured in the Shadow of Evil, but he didn’t like that all the publicity was negative.

’How am I supposed to do business after this?’

And that wasn’t all. Halfway through the movie, a character appeared who looked remarkably, almost exactly, like him.

And his position? A manager at the Potion Factory!

’Where did they find an actor like that?’

’Or, to target me specifically, did they even hire a Shapeshifter to play the part?’

’Is this a film studio or a monster’s den?’

He could already hear curses coming from the audience; clearly, the character was not a crowd-pleaser.

But he couldn’t understand why. In his eyes, the manager’s every action in the movie was perfectly logical.

Whether it was shutting the door to keep the protagonists out of the train car, framing the male lead for being infected, pushing a crew member out to die when cornered in the bathroom, or dragging the conductor down with him in the end.

They were all optimal solutions. If he himself were to face a zombie crisis, he couldn’t guarantee he would do any better than his on-screen "self".

Everything was in perfect alignment with his own self-interest.

The male protagonist, on the other hand, was utterly ridiculous, risking his own life for his daughter.

’A child is just a resource for continuing the bloodline. If one dies, you just have another.’

’No one is more important than me.’

Those people crying their eyes out over a story would never learn this simple truth.

"How boring. The impact of such a crude smear campaign won’t last more than a few days."

’And here I thought Elsa would pull some clever trick. This was just child’s play. The public has no memory. All you have to do is apologize, lie low for a couple of months, and then go right back to making money.’

The film ended, the lights came up, and he straightened his clothes, preparing to leave.

A furious roar came from outside his private box: "Look! It’s that bastard manager from the Potion Factory! Don’t let him get away!"

’What manager?’

’Is that Shapeshifter actor here?’

Before Raghu could react, a sharp pain shot through his eye socket, and half of his vision went dark.

He reached up to touch it, and warm blood flowed down his hand.

Looking down, he saw it was a cup.

"Who threw this!" he roared, angrily picking up the cup and screaming at the audience below. He was going to make that person pay.

However, the response he got wasn’t from a person, but from a hail of more cups, banana peels, popcorn, cosmetic cases, canes, shoes, lighters, and even a letter opener.

The sheer volume of it all stunned Raghu into silence.

Luckily, his bodyguards reacted quickly, throwing up a Shield just in time to prevent him from becoming the first person in history to be pelted to death by an audience in a theater.

But it was one thing after another.

"Everyone, stand back! Let me handle this!" Down below, a girl in a Repin Spellcaster Academy uniform was conjuring a fireball two meters high.

If the others were just venting their anger, this one was genuinely trying to kill him.

He quickly ducked down, trying to flee the box.

"Galina, don’t!"

Someone managed to stop the young Mage, and the massive fireball grazed Raghu’s scalp before slamming into the ceiling of the box, sending out a wave of heat.

"Boss, this way! Quickly!"

The bodyguards demonstrated extreme professionalism. One of them forced Raghu down, shielded his head, and began leading him out.

Two cleared the path ahead while one covered their retreat.

They broke through a large crowd of spectators who were charging like angry bulls, eager to rid the world of a villain.

Finally, they reached the theater entrance.

"Security! Security!"

The theater had an obligation to protect its distinguished, high-paying customers—at least, that’s what Raghu believed.

Right up until the security guard who rushed over also gave him a swift kick.

Enduring the searing pain in his backside, he finally made it to his carriage. Raghu dove inside and slammed the door shut behind him before his bodyguards could even get in.

"Go! Go now! Back to the Potion Factory!"

Accompanied by the PITTER-PATTER of unknown objects striking the carriage, it swayed as it sped away.

Back at the Potion Factory, Raghu stormed into his office, seething with uncontrollable rage, and pulled a large dictionary from a bookshelf.

The bookshelf slowly split apart to both sides.

It revealed a gloomy, ominous altar and a dark red Magic Array within.

Raghu walked into the secret chamber. Eerie blue flames on skull-shaped candles ignited one by one with his steps. He unrolled a leather Scroll on the altar.

Faced with the lengthy Spell, he hesitated.