Starting as a Manga Editor-Chapter 67: Right Now

Hearing Kang Ming’s outburst,
Tang Yao tilted her head slightly:
“If this doesn’t count as research, what does?”
She was absolutely researching—this 2D animation software was pretty similar to Spine, and the effects software also looked strangely familiar… She’d only fiddled with it a bit and already found it quite easy to use.
Most importantly, it felt even more intuitive than in her previous life...
Just like drawing—it all came back instantly, like she was blessed by the gods.
And since they’d talked about it earlier in the morning, Tang Yao had a sudden burst of inspiration and gave it a quick try. It didn’t even take much effort.
After all, when she originally drew the visual style guide art, she had considered that it might be used in the game. She’d drawn it on a digital tablet with layered files—so now she simply turned it into a motion graphic.
Yep.
Tang Yao thought of it as just a little animation. Still a long way from “good.”
But Kang Ming didn’t see it that way.
He stared at the screen—this was top-tier 2D animation… with effects, no less!
This is what she calls “research”!?
What’s next—
“Editors who can’t draw manga aren’t good game developers”? Or maybe not even good artists?
And seriously, this is the thing she’s researching!?
Kang Ming looked at her in disbelief:
“Wait, weren’t you just sitting there thinking about Rumi-sensei’s invitation?”
“Rumi…”
Tang Yao paused, then realized what he meant and frowned:
“So you saw Fate/Zero Chapter 2, huh? Kang Ming, do you think it’s a shame the manga isn’t being serialized in a magazine? Are you still not in the right mindset? We’re here to make a game. That’s our core project.”
“That manga is our source material.”
“…”
Kang Ming opened his mouth, trying to say something, but couldn’t get any words out.
They stood there awkwardly for a while before he finally asked:
“Then… what are you making right now?”
“Didn’t you say your team has a website?”
Tang Yao explained:
“Fate/Zero Chapter 2 had to be released—to keep up the hype. But from the next chapter on, it’ll probably move to the website. So we’ll need to migrate our social media readers over there. But if we just say that, it might feel too half-hearted.
“So I thought of making a CM—like a short commercial. Something like animating the final face-off scene from Chapter 2, then announcing that the manga will be moving to the website.
“Kind of like those short-form corporate ads... Your team can rework that borderline site into a manga reading portal by next week, right?”
“…”
Kang Ming broke into a cold sweat.
“Of course,”
Tang Yao went on, not noticing,
“You just need to get the site done. This animation stuff isn’t super important. I can handle most of it on my own. Oh, the site might eventually include features that help reinforce the readers’ impressions. I might need your help for that...
“But don’t lose sight of the main goal. The game is still our top priority.”
This step was absolutely necessary.
Because relying on just Fate/Zero to pull in players wasn’t realistic.
Back in her previous life, Type-Moon started building the Fate IP with Fate/stay night in 2004, and it wasn’t until 2018’s Fate/Requiem that it truly became a cultural juggernaut. That’s not even counting the random spin-offs—just the core titles. Add to that years of cross-media projects in all formats...
Even Fate/Zero itself was a spin-off.
To think she could replicate that level of IP power with just one project—
Tang Yao wasn’t that naive.
So she never assumed that just developing the game would be enough to guarantee success.
She’d been actively thinking of ways to get readers to internalize the Fate setting—to deepen their familiarity. The manga was just one tool. After all, wasn’t there a saying?
The success of FGO relied first on Fate’s brand power—
And second, on its setting—specifically, “human history.”
The Fate universe had a structure that allowed each character and plot arc to reference a historical or mythological source—creating an automatic sense of credibility and intrigue.
What she needed to do was constantly reinforce those setting details.
And social media wasn't the best tool for that.
A dedicated website sounded like a much better plan.
After hearing Kang Ming’s suggestions, she decided to fully utilize the website: she would write up detailed worldbuilding explanations there and sync them with the manga to immerse the readers as deeply as possible into the Fate lore.
So that, ideally, the moment readers saw something like “Command Seal,” they’d instantly think of “Heroic Spirits”—
And effortlessly accept the game’s mechanics.
Plain text would be boring, of course...
But paired with images—and even animation—it might really click.
“…”
Kang Ming stayed silent for a long moment, then said:
“I get it now.”
“Then clock out soon and call your friends. Let’s get the site up by tomorrow.”
Tang Yao nodded in satisfaction, then added:
“Next, we’ll follow our project roadmap and start prototyping the core gameplay loop and key features. I’m serious about making this game—don’t ever doubt that, and don’t assume I’ll chicken out.
“Stop staring at Fate/Zero. The manga’s important, yeah—but it’s just the foundation for the game.”
“Also, don’t worry about what the readers think. One day, they’ll understand. One day, they’ll know—
What a fan-made miracle really looks like.”
“Got it...”
Kang Ming remembered how he’d been acting earlier and felt a bit embarrassed.
“Alright then. You haven’t eaten yet, right? Let’s call it a day. I need to head home for dinner too. We’ll continue once your friends show up. Once the site’s ready, we’ll jump straight into prototyping.”
Tang Yao glanced at the time:
“By the way, do you like FATE?”
Kang Ming blurted out:
“Of course I do.”
Tang Yao smiled softly:
“Then for the prototype, I’m thinking of doing the Fifth Holy Grail War first. Interested?”
Kang Ming’s eyes lit up:
“The Fifth… that’s the direct sequel to the manga, right??? The game’s story will sync with the manga!?”
“Mm. So the sooner we get the site ready, the sooner we can focus fully on the game.”
Tang Yao responded, then began packing up her things to head out.
Yes.
Tang Yao had zero interest in copying Fate/Grand Order.
After all, FGO launched back in 2016… and to be honest, a lot of its elements felt seriously outdated. The lackluster gameplay, the soul-crushing gacha system...
Not that it was a bad game—it was hugely successful for years, topping charts with every event and raking in absurd profits.
But every other company that tried to copy its formula?
They all crashed and burned.
FGO was a very unique case. It managed to succeed in an industry increasingly obsessed with min-maxing and polish—despite having barebones gameplay and a laughably weak pity system.
Tang Yao believed there were two main reasons it worked:
One, the IP.
Two, the story.
Unfortunately, those were the exact two reasons she couldn’t just do a copy-paste.
The IP had just started here.
And the story… Even setting aside the details—like the prologue in burning Fuyuki City—how was she supposed to get players emotionally invested? Force-feed them a dull intro with a saintly heroine?
No thanks. She didn’t want to end up costing Li Xue a fortune.
More importantly, even if she wanted to copy it, she couldn’t.
When she crossed over, she’d already had enough of scraping by...
And honestly, FGO’s early chapters? Kind of trash.
So even though Tang Yao’s game was based on Fate,
It wasn’t FGO.
A more accurate description?
A “gacha RPG” crafted for another world—
One that stitched together the best parts of every mobile game she’d ever seen.
Elsewhere.
Kang Ming had no idea what Tang Yao was really planning.
After riding his high for a bit, he suddenly remembered something. He looked at her, still packing up, and hesitated.
“You go on ahead. Your computer’s not fully configured yet… I’ll finish it before I leave.”
“Alright… Thanks.”
Tang Yao glanced at the time and thought of her sister at home. She gave him an apologetic smile:
“I’ll head out for today. See you tomorrow.”
“See you.”
Kang Ming replied.
Tang Yao saved her work, gathered her materials into the drawer, and left the office.
Once she was gone—
Kang Ming finally looked away from the door. He turned back to her computer, then glanced at the drawer holding her documents.
He thought back to his earlier doubts.
Tang Yao had been so certain—while he was the one hesitating.
He couldn’t help but blush.
And the skills she’d shown…
The pressure was insane.
Kang Ming let out a long sigh.
Then—
After hesitating for a moment, he clenched his jaw, pulled out his phone, and made a call.
He couldn’t be the only deadweight here!
The phone rang a few times, then someone picked up.
Kang Ming got straight to the point:
“Hey. Where are you?”
“I’ve got a great job for you.”
“Yeah, it’s game-related. Right… When do you start?”
“Right now.”