Investment Cashback, Billionaire God [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 9 Recruitment Notice

Chapter 9 Recruitment Notice

The previously posted thread in the System Forum had already become a hot topic with thousands of replies, making most operators familiar with Fang Zhuo’s ID. The moment he started his livestream, comments rapidly flooded the screen.

So dazzling! I don’t know where to look. This guy’s got some skills! Tip: 2 Points

Is this New Account 822 who posted about speedrunning last time?

System IDs can’t be duplicated, so it’s definitely the same person. But 822 just arrived at BC35 a few days ago, and already has such high-end tech? Don’t tell me he’s just pretending to be something he’s not.

Is that a movie scene in the middle of the big screen? So gorgeous! When can I visit the entertainment dimension to get my fix? Tip: 1 Point

You can have that “blessing.” I definitely don’t want to go to BC35. Why are most comments on screen accusing someone of plagiarism? Seems like a new company copied some song by Goddess Yingying? Anyone understand what’s going on?

Based on another expert’s post, this Goddess Yingying should be one of the reincarnators. Qiao is the person signed by 822.

The other side is truly ruthless they just need to remember the songs Qiao created in her previous life and release them early to frame Qiao as the plagiarist… Looks like 822 is planning to confront those reincarnators head-on?

I get it now, but what does 822 have to fight back with? Once the audio comparison results come out, it’s over.

Sigh, newbies only have three investment slots, and he’s already wasted one this fast…

Bro, since we’ve both been to BC35, here’s something good for you. Might help you go out more comfortably. Tip: Two Pain Relief Pills

!! Group photo! Caught an expert!

On screen, music critic A Kai’s livestream had just begun. With the release of the “Latent” MV, the previously one-sided public opinion gradually turned into heated arguments in A Kai’s livestream.

A Kai had already aligned the audio of “Awakening” and “Latent” and played their intros simultaneously.

Both melodies resonated through the livestream, transmitted to every viewer’s ears via expensive audio equipment.

In reality, even non-professional listeners could detect the vast differences between the two songs their chords, melodies, and rhythms shared almost no similarities.

Moreover, “Latent” extensively incorporated Ancient Blue Star Instruments, placing the most captivating climax segment right at the beginning. Chime bells and numerous wind instruments were skillfully blended together.

The use of numerous obscure instruments created a solemn and unique atmosphere for the entire song, setting it apart from 99% of pop music just through auditory experience.

After listening for a while, A Kai couldn’t help but pause Chi Yingying’s “Awakening,” putting on headphones to let “Latent” fully immerse both channels.

The latter had been recorded with delicate differential processing in the left and right channels, primarily placing the mournful sheng and xiao sounds in the right ear, creating an almost ethereal illusion of distant celestial music.

Although there was a brief section with accelerated rhythm in the middle possibly prepared for promotion on the SoundHope Platform this segment perfectly integrated into the entire song without breaking the overall classical feel.

This was the most stunning original composition he’d encountered this year. Clearly, the entire production team had invested significant effort in both financial resources and creative energy.

A Kai nodded in satisfaction along with the beat.

In contrast, “Awakening” had far less intricate and thoughtful composition from his perspective, it was utterly a bland, generic pop song.

He even chuckled while listening, taking off his headphones and setting them aside before checking the comments:

“How could there be such heated arguments online? Let me state this clearly: Qiao Ankuang absolutely did not plagiarize. Apart from the song titles, these two tracks share no similarities.”

His critiques were notoriously sharp, never considering the status of creators or singers, and he never pandered to famous artists. Even perfunctory works by king-level singers would receive poor reviews from him, which earned him high standing and reputation in the industry.

Clearing his throat, A Kai bluntly commented: “One is art, the other is shit. I think everyone knows which one I’m referring to.”

His live stream viewership had now surpassed 80,000. Unlike the initial heated debates, Chi Yingying’s fans were now drowned out by the influx of casual viewers.

The discussion gradually shifted from plagiarism to the song “Lying Low” itself some praised the song, while others took the opportunity to recommend its music video.

Only half an hour had passed since the final version was released, and as more casual listeners actually started listening to the song, public opinion began to reverse.

Just as A Kai was about to end the live stream, some troublemakers in the comments suggested he also critique the original version.

As the original accompaniment played in the live stream, question marks flooded the chat unanimously.

For no other reason than this original version sounded quite similar to Chi Yingying’s newly released song. Both used the same chord progressions, with even the chorus parts being extremely consistent.

A Kai’s brows gradually furrowed.

Without delay, he opened Qiao Ankuang’s previously released track “Scorching,” only to find that these three songs seemed like they were born from the same mother.

However, any professional could tell that even in the original version, Qiao Ankuang’s handling of key changes and vocal transitions was exceptionally delicate, whereas Chi Yingying’s composition was noticeably more immature.

Propping his chin with both hands, he frowned deeply, switched the live broadcast host interface to Qiao Ankuang’s StarNet account page, and compared the timestamps of Qiao Ankuang’s and Chi Yingying’s respective posts.

In other words, Qiao had released “Scorching” first. Shortly after the original version of “Lying Low” was published, Chi Yingying came out with a new song highly similar to both, attempting to use her fanbase to accuse the other party of plagiarism. Unexpectedly, Qiao countered by releasing a completely different final version.

Could Chi Yingying really be this foolish and stupid?

How is this any different from offering her face to be slapped?

From A Kai’s understanding of the Star Entertainment industry, Chi Yingying had previously released over a dozen grand and tragic high-quality original songs early in her career, with her creative standards far surpassing her peers. She really shouldn’t be so careless with her reputation.

He couldn’t figure out what was truly happening behind the scenes, but one thing was certain these two versions released in succession were definitely part of an unprecedented marketing strategy planned by Qiao’s company.

“Neither ‘Scorching’ nor ‘Lying Low’ constitutes plagiarism. On the contrary, Chi Yingying’s song is somewhat problematic. The platform might consider taking it down for infringement.”

“The agency Qiao Ankuang signed with is quite interesting. Let me see what other artists they have under their management.”

In the live stream room with nearly one hundred thousand viewers, A Kai opened the registration homepage of Giant Entertainment.

Due to the thriving entertainment industry, the Star Federation requires all registered talent agencies to disclose information publicly. The registration homepage must list the personal details of all artists.

According to the homepage, Giant Entertainment currently has only three artists under its banner Qiao Ankuang, Jian Yujing, and Tong Qinglu.

While A Kai wasn’t familiar with fields outside the music industry, the live audience was going wild.

Are you telling me this small company, registered less than two weeks ago, actually has a visual genius female idol, a dark horse newcomer in live streaming, and an incredibly talented original composer? And it seems all of them blew up only after joining the company!

Step aside, the long-awaited rising star of Star Entertainment is finally here! What’s the deal with Giant Entertainment’s boss? Is he just that sharp-eyed or a marketing genius?

A little-known fact: the registration homepage requires a photo and basic info of the company operator. He’s so handsome it’s giving me chills.

Wow, a 25-year-old hottie. Feels like the boss could debut himself if he cleaned up a bit.

Can we get our idol promoted by Brother Fang too? Our little nugu’s been flopping for three years and we really want a break QAQ

Forget the rest, just Tong Qinglu’s fan meeting must’ve cost millions. The MV and music production for “Latent” probably required an investment of tens of millions. Brother Fang, just how rich are you?? If you showed your bank balance, would it literally knock me out?

Seeing Brother Fang’s face, I finally understand who’s right and who’s wrong. @YingyingLovesSinging, come out and apologize. How dare you slander a positive ancient-style music piece co-produced with the Ancient Blue Star Music Museum? Such audacity!

Same here. This boss is basically doing charity work in Star Entertainment. I can’t even imagine how he’s covering costs with the money he’s making.

It took the opposing side a full week to prepare a song almost identical to “Scorching,” yet it only took one short hour to crush all those doubts.

On the factory’s large screen, the comments section under Chi Yingying’s post had been completely overrun. Even with her large number of brainless fans, they were no match for the outraged general public.

The labels her fans had once arrogantly thrown around “music tailor” and “plagiarism mutt” were now being tossed right back at her.

After struggling to hold on for several dozen minutes, Chi Yingying was finally forced to take down “Awakening” on Cloud Music, slinking away under the overwhelming pressure from the public.

For the first time, a crack appeared in the carefully maintained image of Chi Yingying as the serene, apolitical music goddess. While it wasn’t enough to completely ruin her reputation, submissions about her began flooding the unfollow bot on a large scale.

As she deleted her post accusing plagiarism, several hashtags started trending: #ChiYingyingFalselyAccusesPlagiarism, #QiaoAnkuangGeniusComposer, #QiaoAnkuangLatent, #GiantEntertainmentBoss.

Though she didn’t issue an apology statement as demanded by the public, Chi Yingying also refrained from pointless PR moves or rebuttals. She didn’t even log into her account again after deleting the post.

She openly adopted a posture of resigned acceptance to criticism, clearly intending to let the negative public opinion die down quietly.

While the incident didn’t threaten her core fanbase, it dealt her a substantial blow. The few staff members staying late at the factory shared a simple high-five among themselves.
Qiao Ankuang found it difficult to describe his current state of mind.

The clouds had parted to reveal the sun for the first time, he had truly shaken off the burden of plagiarism that had weighed him down.

And Chi Yingying’s bizarre act of defamation had revealed something to him: he hadn’t been unconsciously imitating others’ styles rather, those people had been following behind him, smearing his name and chasing him into a dead end.

Five years. He had spent five years alone in the darkness.

If not for Director Fang’s appearance, when would he have discovered the truth? How could he have cleared himself of these baseless accusations?

Despite being a grown man, he felt a lump in his throat. Watching the continuously rising copyright fees and endless fan messages on his Light Brain screen, it was hard to imagine that just two weeks ago, he had been drifting aimlessly through life in the slums.

He had ten thousand things to say and many questions to ask, but Qiao Ankuang simply rubbed the corners of his eyes, walked over to Director Fang’s sofa, and cut to the chase:

“Can I donate all the copyright fees from ‘Lying Low’ to the company?”

Fang Zhuo looked at him in surprise. “Why?”

Qiao Ankuang wiped his face heavily and poured out a long stream of heartfelt gratitude.

He knew deep down that without Director Fang, he could never have staged such a brilliant comeback. Director Fang had pulled him out of the mud and given him a second chance at life.

‘Lying Low’ had exploded even faster than ‘Scorching,’ with the plagiarism controversy only fueling its popularity.

This time, it wasn’t just on the SoundHope Platform it was flourishing across major long-form video editing sites and StarNet homepages. In just one afternoon, official copyright fees had surpassed twenty million.

Following the trajectory of such a massive hit, the copyright fees over the next six months would easily break a hundred million.

Director Fang simply laughed and refused outright: “No need. We don’t lack that bit of money.”

Qiao Ankuang let out a short, surprised “Ah?”

Was this even Chinese?

This wasn’t a couple thousand it was the future copyright fees of a blockbuster song that would break a hundred million, yet Director Fang didn’t even bat an eye.

His boss was so wealthy it almost defied comprehension. Qiao Ankuang’s admiration surged like an endless ocean. He grinned obsequiously: “Then is there anything else this humble employee can do for you, boss? If any other artists in the company need BGM for their dramas, I can do it. Just give the order whenever you need me this lowly one is always here.”

Fang Zhuo patted his shoulder encouragingly every copyright fee Qiao Ankuang earned gave him ten times the rebate. The rebates alone were substantial enough, and he had no interest in seizing his employee’s legally earned compensation.

‘Lying Low’ had temporarily brought him two hundred and thirty million in income. He first used this money to try purchasing ten days of lifespan.

His remaining survival time now reached twenty-two days, and the exchange price had finally stopped increasing, stabilizing at one million per day.

Having reached the cost ceiling, he wasn’t in a hurry to convert his lifespan to the system’s healthy survival timeline.

The stomach ailment buff still remained he endured a subtle, persistent pain every moment.

But the system’s one-billion high-interest loan had strict repayment conditions: repayment could only begin twenty days after registering a company in the corresponding world of the loan, and it had to be fully repaid within twenty days of entering the next plane. Failure meant instant eradication.

The accumulated interest over these twenty days alone exceeded thirty million. Compared to the risk of potentially defaulting on the loan and the opportunity to profit from reinvesting the funds on hand, Fang Zhuo preferred enduring physical pain.

A little bit watched with heartache as he exchanged only ten days of lifespan, comforting him: Host, you’re so resilient. Although I don’t have the authority to secretly obtain Pain Relief Pills from the backend, I can help alleviate your discomfort in another way.

Fang Zhuo: Oh? What method?

A little bit: I can not only give you lots and lots of money but also lots and lots of love love can relieve pain.

Fang Zhuo: …No need to say such things that only waste each other’s time in the future.

Ignoring A little bit’s sorrow, he waved to summon Jiang Yu: “Is A Kai still livestreaming? Send me the recruitment draft first.”

Jiang Yu nodded and quickly transmitted the recruitment notice from his Light Brain to the boss.

A Kai’s livestream had already been ongoing for over two hours. The screen remained on Giant Entertainment’s registration homepage as he explained to the audience which passages in Chi Yingying’s song “Awakening of Insects” were most obviously plagiarized.

Although the viewer count wasn’t as high as initially, it consistently maintained between sixty to seventy thousand people. The livestream was also featured in the recommended section on StarNet’s front page.

Just as A Kai was passionately explaining, a recruitment advertisement suddenly popped up on Giant Entertainment’s corporate information webpage, instantly filling the entire livestream interface

Giant Entertainment is hiring: Artist Assistants, Advertising Planners, Copywriters, Editors, etc.

Our company implements a five-day, eight-hour work system (including lunch breaks), flexible clock-in/out, with overtime compensated at five times the hourly rate.

Minimum starting salary: 39,000, 16 months’ pay annually. No upper limit specific details to be discussed during interviews. Social insurance and housing fund contributions at the highest rates stipulated by the Star Federation.

In addition to federal statutory holidays, employees immediately enjoy 25 days of paid annual leave upon joining.

Seeking talented individuals Giant Entertainment awaits you!

Author’s note:

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