The celebration for Palm d'Or Night was held on the most luxurious terrace at the Carlton Hotel.
The bass from the music pounded the floor, the vibrations shooting up from the soles of your feet and buzzing straight into your skull.
Quentin was the undisputed center of attention. He waved that golden palm leaf around, charging through the crowd, hugging everyone who came to congratulate him, shouting at the top of his lungs, spraying spit everywhere.
Link didn't bother joining the chaos. He stood alone in the shadows near the edge of the terrace, a glass of whiskey in his hand, staring at the half-melted ice inside.
That kind of pure, unfiltered joy on Quentin's face—Link hadn't felt that in a very long time.
Ever since he'd crossed over into this world, every step he took felt like placing pieces on a chessboard, calculated and cold, almost inhuman.
He enjoyed winning, but the feeling was closer to a chess player nodding in quiet satisfaction after a perfectly executed strategy—not the wild euphoria of an artist creating something truly great.
Just then, a pale blue panel that only Link could see suddenly lit up in front of him.
[Epic Achievement Unlocked: Conquer Cannes!]
[Description: Your first fully led project, Pulp Fiction, has successfully claimed the highest honor at the world's top film festival—the Palme d'Or. Pangu Pictures' industry standing has undergone a fundamental upgrade, and your personal influence has crossed a critical threshold.]
[Influence Rating: Rising Star]
[Massive Increase: +6000!!]
[Description: At the peak of Cannes, you publicly crushed industry titan Harvey Weinstein in the court of public opinion. The name Pangu Pictures now echoes across the globe.]
[Congratulations! Influence threshold surpassed. "Legacy Path" module upgraded!]
[New Feature Unlocked: Empire Blueprint (Basic).]
Link's pupils tightened slightly. His heart skipped a beat.
He'd barely managed to suppress that flash of excitement when, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a large, lumbering figure.
Harvey Weinstein had arrived.
Flanked by several Miramax executives, Harvey laughed loudly as he shoved through the crowd and marched straight toward Link.
His massive hand came down hard on Link's shoulder, dragging him out of the shadows with brute force.
For a split second, a flicker of offended anger flashed in Link's eyes—so fast that almost no one noticed. The next moment, his calm smile was already back in place.
Harvey raised his glass and shouted at the reporters who instantly swarmed around them.
"Look! My friend! My golden partner! I knew it—when we teamed up, we were bound to make history!"
He bit down hard on the word we, his arm muscles tensing as he left Link no room to pull away.
"Of course, Harvey," Link said, clinking glasses with him. "But tonight's real star is Quentin."
"Oh, absolutely!" Harvey laughed, casually yanking over a Hollywood Reporter journalist like he was bossing around one of his own employees. "Write this down—I spotted him at a glance out of hundreds of scripts! I told my team he's the next Scorsese!"
The reporters scribbled furiously. Band stood nearby, sweating and clearly wanting to speak, but one look from Link froze him in place.
Link quietly watched Harvey perform, as if observing a clumsy one-man show.
When Harvey finally finished bragging and cleared his throat, ready to take questions, Link spoke up—slowly, like he'd just remembered something.
"By the way, Harvey, there's something I forgot to tell you."
The surrounding noise seemed to hit a mute button. Everyone turned to look at him.
Link's voice wasn't loud, but every word landed cold and sharp.
"Pangu Pictures' second project has already been greenlit."
Harvey paused, forcing a smile. "Oh? And what project is that?"
"A special-effects comedy," Link said. "Starring Jim Carrey—a true master of comedy.
The female lead is Cameron Diaz. She's going to be the next all-American sweetheart.
And the director is a horror legend—Chuck Russell."
A few reporters in the crowd couldn't help it and burst out laughing.
Even Harvey couldn't hide the contempt curling at the corner of his mouth. What kind of mess was this? A pile of industry leftovers no one wanted.
Link had been waiting for that expression. Only then did he hammer down the final line, like driving in a nail.
"Oh—and we've already finalized the investment with New Line Cinema."
Boom.
It was like a bomb had gone off. The scene instantly spiraled out of control.
"New Line Cinema?!"
"Holy shit—that's Miramax's sworn enemy!"
"Announcing a new partner right in front of the current one? That's headline gold!"
Reporters went crazy, shoving forward as dozens of microphones and recorders were thrust toward Link.
The color drained from Harvey's face in an instant. He stared at Link with a look so vicious it was like he wanted to tear a chunk of flesh off him.
Link pushed through the chaos and stopped in front of Harvey, who stood frozen in place.
He raised his glass and lightly clinked it against Harvey's—still trembling with rage.
Ding.
The sound was crisp, clear, and painfully sharp.
Then Link leaned in, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear. He spoke slowly, calmly, and with absolute certainty.
"Harvey."
"Your era is over."