The Red Dragon Lord is OP, but Insists on a Pop Culture Invasion! Chapter 89: Re-employment for the Laid-off Troupe

Zog was confused.

’What’s going on here?’

He’d really just co to share snacks, so how had he run into so eccentric old master?

’Maybe I should remind him to wear a helt next ti he goes "fishing" with people.’

As a Dragon who was always magnanimous as long as money wasn’t involved, he had always enjoyed feeding snacks to others.

Sharing his snacks with others, and eating snacks from others—both doubled his happiness.

Today was the premiere of *Firepower Young King*, and it was the perfect opportunity to take advantage of the large crowd to test which of the upcoming snacks for his tea shop would be most popular.

Since the current level of technology didn’t yet support various food additives, the variety of snacks he could make was limited.

Of course, additives weren’t necessarily a bad thing. Sodium bicarbonate and monosodium glutamate could both be used as additives.

The reason people paled at the ntion of them was largely due to the tangled web of vested interests behind the propaganda channels.

The only long-distance snacks Zog could currently produce were fried and puffed foods, like potato chips and french fries;

air-dried and dehydrated foods with naturally long shelf lives, like at jerky and preserved fruits;

and glass jars and tin cans sealed after being sterilized with high-temperature steam.

He had also personally tested canned peaches of other varieties and found that none were as delicious as yellow peaches.

To enrich the snack flavors, the Druids, having finished their research on tea leaves, had all been reassigned to study spices.

At the bustling premiere, Zog went around promoting his favorite original-flavor, crinkle-cut potato chips—though, to be fair, original was the only flavor available right now.

Besides scraping the roof of your mouth if you ate too many and being difficult to transport, the texture of crinkle-cut chips was far superior to chips made from pressed potato mash.

On the outskirts of the venue, Zog spotted an old man who looked to be in his sixties or seventies. He didn’t seem to be there with his grandchildren.

People who were old in age but young at heart usually had a high tolerance for snacks.

So Zog, who had beco chattier in his old age, naturally sauntered over.

And that led to the whole "New... Drama Guild!" scene.

Zog slled a story brewing, and the flas of his gossip-loving heart flared to life. He found a quieter bench to continue their chat.

They talked for the entire duration of one episode of *Firepower Young King*.

Zog got the gist of the situation.

The old man’s na was Leontien Frederick, and he was from the sa family as Uffie’s ditsy best friend, Galina.

Since the na was a real mouthful, Zog decided to just keep calling him Grandpa Galina.

The old man was a famous playwright, active from 40 years ago to about 10 years ago, and had written over twenty classic plays.

He had also taught at the drama academy for a long ti and had many accomplished students.

You could say he was the one who kept the Drama Guild alive. After he left, the Guild’s creative works beca increasingly rigid and detached from the common people.

After retiring, in recognition of his contributions, he was made the honorary Chairman of the Drama Guild.

His desire to start a New Drama Guild stemd purely from his belief that theater would inevitably be replaced by the Shadow of Evil, and he wanted to save theater professionals from this dire fate.

He was a very responsible man, just a little too extre.

He was a bit like the most radical reforrs of the New Culture Movent. Their intentions weren’t bad; they had just seen the vast disparity and backed themselves into the corner of wanting to tear everything down.

At that ti, many people supported the complete abolition of Chinese characters in favor of alphabetization.

Ti, however, provided the answer: Chinese characters were not a burden holding back progress, but a true cultural treasure left by the ancestors.

Just look at what a ss Hangul and Katakana next door have beco.

This old man was the sa, believing traditional theater had no redeeming qualities and should be completely reford.

But Zog knew that while there were many differences between on-cara acting and stage performance, they were essentially different presentations of the sa art form and could not replace each other.

A stage couldn’t replicate the visual effects and cara angles achievable on film.

But a cara couldn’t capture the sense of presence brought by real, live actors on a stage.

Whether it was plays, dance dramas, or musicals, Zog had seen so truly stunning works.

The stage arts of the Sutton Kingdom hadn’t beco this way because of theater itself; it was a problem with the people. Theater couldn’t take all the bla.

"So, I suggest that what you should be creating isn’t a New Drama Guild, but a Film and Drama Guild. Develop on multiple fronts."

Zog concluded.

"Turning" a person with such a high reputation in the theater industry would be a great help in solving Zog Film Studio’s actor shortage.

He didn’t plan on giving up on the stage market either.

’The Drama Guild can talk all they want about boycotting. Did they really think they could get away after offending a Red Dragon?’

Grandpa Galina never expected that the first person to seriously listen to his vision for the future of the theater industry would be a Dragon.

"But... does stage performance still have a future?" he asked uncertainly.

"Of course it does. What you’re missing are good scripts to serve as models, to point the way for future playwriting."

"It’s not that easy." Grandpa Galina understood that creative work was also a young person’s ga, just one with a longer career span.

But after forty, the essential elents for creation—energy, imagination, and boldness—would all gradually fade.

"What a coincidence! I have so!"

Zog pointed with a small claw and grinned, looking exactly like that smug nerd emoji, just without the glasses.

"How many people can you gather?"

The old man thought for a mont. A few old friends who no longer cared for power struggles, and so young, ostracized students who were still full of sincere passion.

Though people often joked about the "crystal-clear stupidity" of students, one had to admit that at many critical monts in history, they were a bunch of lovable "fools" who truly stepped up when things got serious.

"Probably a few dozen to a hundred people."

"That’s enough." Zog drew a small circle on the ground and summoned a Treasure Chest Monster.

When he’d been bored before, besides writing power-fantasy stories, he had also written quite a few scripts.

’Staging *Teahouse* or *Thunderstorm* here definitely wouldn’t be appropriate. *Waiting for Gordo* is too absurd for audiences to accept right now. How about *Death of a Salesman*?’

’It would be best to have a script that could be used for both theater and Shadow of Evil—killing two birds with one stone.’

"Ah, found it!"

Zog handed a thin script to Grandpa Galina.

The old man cautiously pinched it with two fingers, discovering it wasn’t covered in the sli he had imagined.

He glanced at the title.

*Prosecution Witness*.

The plot started out rather ordinary: a famous lawyer bickering with his nurse, a common codic setup for a bickering pair.

Then the case unfolds: a salesman has an affair with a noblewoman, and the noblewoman ends up brutally murdered.

The salesman seeks out the lawyer for his defense, hoping to clear his na.

’The salesman must have done it, probably for an inheritance or insurance money. Nothing new in this script.’

Sure enough, the noblewoman’s will was discovered next, leaving her money to the salesman.

The lawyer takes the case. The only favorable testimony is that the salesman’s wife is willing to provide him with an alibi.

Soon, the courtroom drama began.

The noblewoman’s maid appears as a witness to testify to the salesman’s guilt.

The lawyer finds a flaw in her testimony: the noblewoman’s previous will left her money to the maid, so the maid stood to lose from the new will.

Furthermore, the maid had poor hearing, yet her testimony included a conversation she claid to have overheard through a door, proving she was lying.

It was quite clever. Reading this, Grandpa Galina finally felt it was getting interesting. It was a decent play.

However, another twist followed.

The salesman’s wife took the stand. Contrary to her promise to prove her husband’s innocence, she appeared as a prosecution witness, intending to send her husband to the guillotine.

’Huh?’

’Such a bold plot twist... but how could it possibly be resolved?’

Itching with curiosity, he flipped to the next page.

It was gone!

There was nothing more!

’How could a script be so shaless!’

He looked up at Zog in confusion.

"Never mind whether there’s more. Isn’t the first part a great script?"

"Well, yes, but..."

"So, if you staged it as a play, could it thrash the Drama Guild’s current works?"

"It probably could, but..."

"No buts. In order to stage a play that can thrash the Drama Guild, you’ll need a lot of money. You’ll need to rent many theaters, performing venue by venue. If they won’t rent to you, you’ll have to pay a premium."

"That is indeed a possibility."

"So!"

Zog pulled out another script.

"In order to earn the money to stage *Prosecution Witness*, you and the people you gather should first make so money by filming a little sothing called *chanical Warrior*."