pjbooks Chapter 339 The Everlasting Myth of the Northern Plains
Chapter 339 The Everlasting Myth of the Northern Plains
Chapter 339 (The Grand Finale): The Everlasting Myth of the Northern Plains
The relentless train of time never stops for the will of any mortal. But on this planet, there are always a very few players who, with their own hands, can forcibly reverse the course of history.
A few years have passed since the capitalist massacre and the Oscars' crowning glory of the millennium.
In Tokyo's Minato Ward, the Kitahara Tower, the global headquarters of the Kitahara Group, rises majestically. This 300-meter-tall, deep black glass curtain wall building, like a sword pointing straight to the sky, is not only Asia's tallest landmark but also the beating heart of the global entertainment and capital industry.
Tonight, the domed banquet hall on the top floor of Kitahara Tower is brightly lit, hosting a top-secret internal banquet to celebrate Kitahara Productions' 10th anniversary.
Those who received this black gold invitation and entered this place were all top figures who could command the winds and waves in the world today. But tonight, they all consciously put away their arrogant attitude in the outside world, and even lowered their voices by a third.
In front of the floor-to-ceiling windows on the east side of the banquet hall, Takeru Satoh and Shun Oguri stood side by side, each holding a glass of champagne.
At twenty-five, Takeru Satoh has long since shed his youthful naiveté. Thanks to the phenomenal box office success of the live-action Rurouni Kenshin trilogy across Asia, he now firmly holds the top spot among Asia's leading action heroes. His eyes, honed by time, possess a cold and profound depth, like the sharpest blade.
Meanwhile, Shun Oguri, relying on the "Crows Zero" series and numerous S-class police dramas produced by Kitahara Productions, has become a guarantee of both box office success and high viewership ratings. These two are the sharpest spears of the Kitahara Empire in the field of male actors.
"Ken, look over there." Shun Oguri gently touched Takeru Satoh's shoulder and gestured with his chin toward the VIP waiting area outside the banquet hall.
Through the glass door, one could clearly see several blond, blue-eyed elderly white men sitting in the luxurious waiting room. One of them was none other than Christopher Nolan, the top Hollywood director who had just raked in huge box office success worldwide with "The Dark Knight"; the other was the current global CEO of Paramount Pictures.
These two big shots, whose every move in Hollywood could cause an earthquake, were now acting like interns waiting for an interview, sipping their coffee somewhat awkwardly and glancing at their watches every now and then.
"Director Nolan has been waiting in Tokyo for three whole days for his new script about wormholes in space, just to beg the president of the company to give him fifteen minutes to present it in person." Shun Oguri took a sip of champagne, his tone filled with undisguised pride and awe. "The president of Paramount even flew in personally to beg K-Net to give their blockbuster next year a little bit of algorithmic recommendation."
"This is the truth of the world." Takeru Satoh withdrew his gaze, tilted his head back, and downed the champagne in his glass in one gulp. "Back when we were sweating it out in the practice room, who could have imagined that one day those so-called Hollywood gods would cross the ocean to Tokyo just to beg the president to take a look at their scripts?"
Sato Takeru turned around, his gaze sweeping over the crowd and fixing on the man in the very center of the banquet hall, surrounded by everyone like a star.
Kitahara Shin, dressed in a perfectly tailored haute couture suit, held a glass of red wine in his hand and calmly listened to the compliments from the heads of several conglomerates beside him. The sharp, piercing aura he once possessed had long since vanished, replaced by a heavy, oppressive presence, like a deep abyss, capable of swallowing everything.
That was their god. The creator who offered them an umbrella on a rainy night and wrote their destiny into a script.
Not only them, but on the other side of the banquet hall, Yuko Takeuchi, Rie Miyazawa, Nanako Matsushima, and Takako Matsu—the four ultimate trump cards of Kitahara Productions—were gathered together, chatting and laughing. These four had already won every award imaginable, both domestically and internationally, achieving legendary status. For them, trophies had long lost their meaning; their very existence was a monument in the history of Asian film and television.
"President."
Takeru Satoh and Shun Oguri exchanged a glance, straightened their suits, and walked with unwavering steps to Shin Kitahara.
They didn't say any fancy, empty pleasantries; they simply raised their glasses and bowed deeply.
"Without your guidance these past ten years, we wouldn't be where we are today." Sato Takeru's voice was deep and powerful, carrying an absolute loyalty like that of a fanatic. "No matter where the Kitahara Empire goes in the future, we will always be the fastest and most ruthless blade in your hand. We salute you."
Kitahara Shin looked at his two disciples, whom he had personally trained, smiled, raised his glass, and gently clinked it against his own: "You two forged your own path. Keep this edge and go on to achieve even greater box office success."
While the commotion in the banquet hall continued, Kitahara Shin had already quietly left and taken a private elevator to a top-secret study on the other side of the building.
There's no champagne or music here, only the coldest numbers and top-secret documents that determine the course of the world.
Chief Financial Advisor Zosam was already waiting there. The passage of time had added a few gray hairs to this top trader's temples, but his eyes were even sharper than they had been during the Wall Street massacre.
"President, this is the final global financial report summary for the Kitahara Group's tenth anniversary." Sasaki handed an encrypted black tablet to Kitahara Shin, his tone revealing an barely suppressed fear and fervor.
Kitahara Shin took the tablet. The enormous numbers flashing on the screen, if released, would drive economists around the world into a frenzy.
"Our monopoly in the global entertainment industry is now completely closed. K-Net's streaming subscribers have surpassed 300 million, and half of the annual profits of the six major Hollywood studios now depend on our distribution channels," Zosam reported.
"This was all expected. Let's talk about something else." Kitahara Shin leaned back in his large leather chair.
"Yes. Through the covert infiltration of massive cash flows over the past few years, our shell funds have cross-controlled the three core semiconductor companies in Silicon Valley and gained absolute dominance in the underlying communication patents for smartphones." Zosam opened another report, "In terms of real estate, the value of our commercial real estate and cinema land in prime locations in New York, London, Paris, and Tokyo has quadrupled."
At this point, Zosam paused, lowered his voice, and a chilling glint flashed in his eyes.
"Furthermore, last month, a prominent North American senator who is running for re-election contacted us through secret channels."
He's willing to give the green light to several tariff bills targeting Asia over the next five years in exchange for our cooperation in the K-15 trade war.
"Net and its various social media platforms support algorithmic preferences."
Upon hearing this, Kitahara Shin's lips finally curled into a cold smile.
This is the ending he truly desired. He is no longer a "highly profitable Oscar-winning director." Unbeknownst to many, he has transformed into the "Dark King" who hides beneath the surface, silently manipulating the global political and economic lifeline with capital and media algorithms.
"Tell that congressman." Kitahara Shin tossed the tablet onto the table, his voice calm yet carrying an air of absolute power. "I want his two Supreme Court nominations, and a tax exemption for artificial intelligence in Silicon Valley next year. If he agrees, the Kitahara Group's media machine will put him in the position he desires."
"Understood, I will take care of it personally." Zosam bowed deeply and left the study.
Having dealt with the cold, hard politics of the empire, Kitahara Shin's gaze shifted from the bustling world of fame and fortune and the chilling figures of capital to the Kitahara Manor, located in Chiyoda Ward and heavily guarded.
The sun shone brightly on a weekend afternoon.
On the manor's wide, soft private lawn, a toddler of about five years old, wearing overalls, was running swiftly.
Little Kitahara Kei has displayed astonishing talent that has left all family doctors and early childhood education experts speechless. Nourished by the passive aura of equipment like the [Ring of Life], he not only possesses a physique far superior to his peers, but his intellectual development is also remarkable—
He has reached an incredible level. At the age of five, he is already proficient in three languages and has shown an almost instinctive ability to solve complex logic puzzles.
"Xiao Qi, slow down, be careful not to fall."
Akina Nakamori, dressed in a gentle, beige, homely long dress, sat smiling on a wicker chair by the lawn, holding a plate of freshly cut fruit. She had long since shed her former glamour, firmly seated as the matriarch of this vast family. The broken melancholy of her youth was gone from her eyes; only the absolute perfection that came from the gentle care of time remained.
Beside Akina, Izumi Sakai was holding a wooden guitar, her fingers gently plucking the strings.
Spring Water hasn't completely given up on music, but she no longer faces the fervent fans and flashing lights. Now, she only occasionally holds private concerts with just five or six audience members at internal gatherings at the manor, or on sunny afternoons. Her clear voice ripples in the breeze, infusing the family with the most healing power.
At the other end of the lawn, Rie Miyazawa and Takako Matsu were playing frisbee with Kei without any regard for their image, their laughter ringing out. Both of them, along with Nanako Matsushima sitting under a parasol reviewing reports, had chosen to retire at the peak of their careers.
They transformed into behind-the-scenes producers or art directors within the Kitahara Group, dedicating all their talents and the rest of their lives to Kitahara Shin.
Kitahara Shin, dressed in loose casual clothes, walked out the back door onto the lawn.
"dad!"
Upon seeing him, Xiao Qi immediately dropped the frisbee in his hand and rushed over like a small cannonball.
Kitahara Shin caught his son steadily, lifted him high, and spun him around twice in mid-air, causing the little guy to burst into joyful laughter.
He carried his son and sat down next to the group of women. Rie immediately snuggled up and took his arm, Nanako gently handed him a wet wipe to wipe his sweat, Izumi stopped playing the guitar and smiled at him, and Akina fed him a slice of apple.
Kitahara Shin savored the sweet taste of the apple, looking at the five confidantes beside him whose appearances remained unchanged but whose temperaments had become increasingly refined, and at the intelligent and healthy heir in his arms who carried the future of the empire.
A gentle breeze rustled through the century-old trees of the manor.
In that instant, Kitahara Shin felt an unprecedented peace within him. There was no squabbling and jealousy from wealthy families, no unbearable entanglements and regrets from the outside world. Only the absolute fulfillment that came after weathering countless storms and conquering an entire era.
He gave each of them the best possible ending, and they, in turn, filled all the bonds he had in this world.
Night fell again.
Whether it's Beverly Hills in Los Angeles or the top floor of Kitahara Tower in Tokyo, it doesn't matter anymore.
Kitahara Shin stood alone before the enormous floor-to-ceiling window, which seemed to contain the entire world. Outside, the neon lights of the bustling city stretched like an endless sea of stars to the horizon.
In this extremely quiet moment.
The "Movie Emperor Equipment System," which had accompanied him through countless battles and had long been relegated to the back of his mind, suddenly emitted an unprecedented, long, resonant notification sound.
【Ding--】
[The host's personal power, wealth, social influence, and degree of industry monopoly have all exceeded the physical and logical limits of this plane.]
[Final achievement achieved: Dimensional Overlord.]
[System's ultimate evolution activated, highest reward awarded: Mythical-grade (Red Gear) — [Seal of the Creator of the Era]]
On Kitahara Shin's retina, an ancient mark emitting a dark red glow slowly appeared.
[Equipment Effect: No specific numerical bonuses. This equipment will completely reshape the system core, permanently solidifying all previously acquired skills, auras, and constitution enhancements as explicit talents of the host and their direct bloodline.]
[At the same time, the system will transcend the limitations of the rules and enter a state of "eternal companionship," transforming into absolute destiny and coexisting with the Northern Plains Empire.]
[Note: Your journey is unparalleled. The system will forever remain here, protecting you and your clan. May you forever enjoy glory in the myth you create.]
The dark red mark shattered in his sight, turning into countless warm points of light that completely merged into Kitahara Shin's blood, bones, and soul.
The familiar, semi-transparent panel in his mind did not disappear. It shed all the complicated data and tasks, transforming into a dark golden phantom, quietly and absolutely loyally lurking in the deepest part of Kitahara Shin's consciousness.
A relieved smile appeared on Kitahara Shin's lips.
He no longer needed to complete tasks to obtain any rewards. But feeling the eternal power deep within his soul that would never betray him, he knew that in this world, he himself, along with the system that had completely submitted to him, had already become an indelible part of the world's underlying code.
"Click".
The heavy mahogany door of the office was gently pushed open.
Kitahara Shin turned around.
Outside the door, Akina Nakamori, dressed in a gentle, homey trench coat, held the hand of the bouncy Kitahara Kei. Behind her followed the still pristine Izumi, as well as the smiling Rie, Nanako, and Matsu Takako.
They did not feel constrained by the luxury and oppressive atmosphere here, because this was their man's territory.
"Shin-kun." Akina looked at the man standing by the window, resembling a king, her eyes filled with the same deep love she had felt for him for ten years. She smiled and waved her hand. "Have you finished your work? It's time to go home for dinner."
Xiao Qi broke free from his mother's grasp, ran over, hugged Kitahara Shin's leg, and looked up, calling out in a childish voice, "Daddy, let's go home!"
Kitahara Shin lowered his head and gently stroked his son's soft hair.
He walked to the large desk and, without any hesitation, pressed the master control switch that monitors the flow of billions of dollars in capital worldwide.
The screen went black instantly, completely severing all the cold data and the fierce battles.
"Let's go."
Kitahara Shin picked up his son, walked over to Akina, Izumi, and the others, and casually put his arm around their shoulders. "Let's go home."
The group of people walked away in the warm light of the corridor, leaving behind a string of heartwarming laughter.
The office fell completely silent.
The camera zooms out and out through the huge floor-to-ceiling window, slowly pulling back and rising towards the city that never sleeps.
On a giant holographic city sign, Kitahara Productions' latest blockbuster is playing; on a giant screen in the street, a Nasdaq news anchor is reverently reading out the name of the Kitahara Group; countless young people with dreams are carrying their bags, looking up at the spire of the Kitahara Tower, their eyes burning with fervent ambition.
The man's name is widely known throughout the martial arts world; wherever he is, that place becomes the center of the world.
But he no longer needed to prove anything to the world. Because the name Kitahara Shin had long transcended the realm of mortals, becoming a living myth that would never fade in the skies above this era.