Edward rested his chin on one hand, let out a yawn, and looked helplessly at the meeting taking place before him.
"...So, boss, this is the current state of our company. Based on the situation right now, I recommend that we make annual charitable donations to maintain and reinforce the public's perception of our company as one that values philanthropy."
Kennedy pushed up his glasses as he spoke, looking directly at Edward. When Edward heard this, the corner of his mouth twitched, but he still nodded in agreement.
"I personally have no objections to that. Anyway… how's the follow-up development and maintenance of PokéCart going?" Edward coughed lightly and looked at Kennedy to inquire further. As soon as he asked, Kennedy immediately pulled out a new document and began briefing Edward about PokéCart. And the moment PokéCart was mentioned, everyone else's expressions became noticeably gentler and calmer.
Originally, they all thought Edward would be a complete newbie who needed more time to learn the ropes. But no one expected that the moment he took over, he immediately started doing this and that, handling many different matters… and achieving real results. Right now, PokéCart had brought Devon Corporation a considerable amount of profit.
Even those high-and-mighty economists had been forced to acknowledge that the future would not be an age where people kept chasing luxury. Instead, it would be an age where consumption sinks downward—a period of frugality, not extravagance.
"Based on last month's market data and analysis, consumers today are more inclined to choose lower-priced products when shopping. So, the future prospects of PokéCart are extremely promising."
Kennedy explained things in detail, even providing several constructive suggestions. Edward, however, fell into deep thought while listening.
PokéCart was something Edward created based on a very famous software from his previous life. Overall, it was nothing particularly special—it was simply a shopping app. But the difference was that in this world, other shopping apps believed people's consumption levels would only rise, so they all invested in high-end, premium, branded, and luxury goods.
As a result, PokéCart took over the lower-tier market. Even though the other shopping platforms wanted to counterattack, reversing the situation was extremely difficult. Competing against an app that had already secured its foothold was not easy.
As he listened, Edward pulled out his phone and opened PokéCart to take a look.
The overall layout of PokéCart hadn't changed much—still the same simple search page, clean with very few ads. The interface remained tidy and comfortable to look at.
Of course, the app still relied on big data and algorithms to prioritize certain products for users, but it was done with a very good sense of proportion—subtle enough not to be annoying. It was actually quite pleasant.
Edward was personally quite satisfied. Looking at PokéCart, his eyes carried a thoughtful glint. He was wondering whether he should bring over those extremely popular payment systems from his previous life.
In the Pokémon world, cash transactions and card payments were still the mainstream. Other forms of payment barely existed—practically negligible. Online payments were also mostly done through bank card–linked transactions.
In a way, it truly wasn't as convenient as QR code payments. But Edward hesitated, because if he introduced such a system, once it spread, Devon Corporation's influence and scale would grow even bigger—so big that even the Pokémon League might have opinions about it. Unless…
His gaze lowered to the phone in his hand. Right now, what Devon needed more than progress was stability. In fact, one could say that maintaining stability was the single most important thing Devon needed at the moment.
"What do you all think… If we developed a new application based on PokéCart—one that allowed customers to complete payments directly through their phones—would there be any risks?" Edward narrowed his eyes as he asked. The people present exchanged looks; they themselves weren't very sure.
"Risks? You mean like accounts getting hacked?" a development department manager offered. Mobile payments weren't impossible, but seemed redundant. If people could just pay with bank cards directly, wasn't that simpler and easier to handle?
Edward chuckled. In his previous world, Alipay and WeChat Pay had once engaged in a ferocious battle.
Back then, during the explosive growth of the domestic internet, the mobile payment sector was undoubtedly the most transformational battleground. At that time, many people didn't even know what QR code payments or mobile payments were. But the fierce competition between Alipay and WeChat over mobile payment users dramatically changed people's payment habits, with long-lasting impact.
At first, Alipay dominated the mobile payment market. As a pioneer in the electronic payment field, it had the massive user base of Taobao and Tmall behind it. With this foundation, it quickly accumulated an enormous number of users.
Even before QR payments became widespread, Alipay had already started promoting QR-code payment in various offline locations—convenience stores, supermarkets, and so on. Consumers simply scanned a code to pay.
And at the start, the discounts for using QR payment were extremely high. After all, if you didn't give people real, tangible benefits, why would anyone use your payment method?
Merchants promoting these systems also received money—not like some modern platforms that always found ways to delay payments with ridiculous excuses. No, back then, merchants got actual cash. Because of this, Alipay's expansion was frighteningly fast.
Other companies noticed the market too, but none had the size to compete against Alipay. They entered hastily, burned money, ran out of funds, and ultimately withdrew from the competition.
If things had continued like this, Alipay would've completely monopolized the market. But WeChat Pay's entrance shattered that trajectory.
Leveraging its massive social network, especially its hundreds of millions of daily chat users, WeChat quickly rose in the mobile payment sector.
The real turning point, Edward remembered, was during one Lunar New Year. WeChat Pay's "Red Envelope Campaign" educated the entire population overnight—teaching them how to use mobile payments. That innovative marketing move not only showed users how convenient WeChat Pay was, but also demonstrated its potential to merchants.
Even though Alipay later launched its own red envelope features, it was already too late. By then, WeChat had already stood firm.
From then on, WeChat Pay and Alipay began a fierce battle for users. Alipay used aggressive promotions—discounts for offline payments, ride-hailing coupons, and so on—to draw people in.
WeChat, meanwhile, used its social chain advantage—group purchases, shared deals, and even micro-merchants—which bloomed during that period. Both sides also competed heavily for merchant cooperation, technological investment, and user experience improvements.
On the merchant side, competition was just as intense. To lure merchants into adopting their payment systems, both platforms rolled out subsidies and support programs. Some merchants even offered both payment options simultaneously just to get more benefits and traffic.
Back then, Edward remembered buying items that cost over a hundred for just a few. And he still remembered how delighted the merchant looked. Edward felt like he made money, but that merchant probably made even more.
For consumers of that era, the direct effect of this "war" was more choices and more convenience. Whether shopping in huge malls or small roadside stalls, people could freely use either WeChat Pay or Alipay. Both companies continuously introduced new features—like facial recognition payments, cross-border payments—making everything even smoother.
After years of intense competition, the battle between the two giants stabilized. The subsidies gradually disappeared. In the end, WeChat Pay and Alipay became the dominant duopoly—each taking half the mobile payment market.
Other big shopping apps developed their own payment systems too, but they could never compete. Once users formed a habit, changing it became extremely difficult.
And after the market settled, all sorts of questionable practices emerged—like the idea that "your money isn't actually yours unless it's in a bank account," or other operations so outrageous they might get censored. Mobile payments had become dragons—if not held tightly by the reins, they had the potential to swallow the world.
So, Edward knew very well what kind of monster he would be unleashing once he introduced such a system. If it took over the market, Devon Corporation would grow to unimaginable levels. And considering Devon was already huge…
He didn't know how the League would react.
That was why he had spent all this time trying to spread Devon's influence across countless essential fields—making the company something that millions depended on for their livelihoods. Maintaining balance was part of his long-term strategy.
In the end, the meeting concluded without a concrete decision. Developing mobile payments was still a problem to consider. But if Edward personally decided to proceed, then it could still be done—he was the head of Devon, after all. After a moment of hesitation, Edward decided to push this idea forward. QR payments were simply too convenient, and once established, he could give a portion of the equity to the League in exchange for stronger nationwide support.
Yes—he did not plan to develop this under Devon's name. He intended to create a small new company specifically for mobile payments. That way, he didn't have to worry about Devon's explosive expansion being too alarming. Diverting part of the profit was acceptable as long as everything remained manageable.
After finishing all the corporate matters, Edward returned to his office. He had originally planned to check how much box office revenue TheGrudge 3 had earned today, but he ended up getting dragged to the meeting instead. Not that he refused—it was completely normal.
Devon was massive. And even though Fortune had grown enough to handle basic tasks for him, managing everything was still too much. Besides, something like this meeting was not something Fortune could deal with.
"Boss, were you worried earlier that our company might be developing too quickly?"
Kennedy entered the office, prepared a cup of tea, and asked while watching him carefully.
After the old president, Joseph officially retired, the layout of this office had changed quite a bit.
Joseph used to place all sorts of strange stones in here. Now that Edward was the president, the office had become much simpler—though the computer had become bigger and more luxurious.
"Yeah. Devon is enormous. It's only because Silph Co. stands in front of us that we're not the biggest target. And Silph Co. works directly with the League." Edward pinched the bridge of his nose. Ever since becoming Edward Stone, he knew exactly what responsibilities he carried.
"Silph Co. holds thirty-seven percent of its shares under the League. They're not the absolute majority, but they're a major shareholder that cannot be ignored," Kennedy said while adjusting his glasses. Edward nodded—of course he knew.
In a typical joint-stock company, owning fifty-one percent meant absolute control, but in reality, having over thirty percent already made one a dominant shareholder. More importantly, the percentage reflected attitude. Holding thirty-seven percent told the League clearly: We're aligned with you.
Devon, however, was different. It operated more like a family enterprise. There were shares, yes, but many were not formal shareholder positions—like Kennedy's shares, which were dividends only, without actual rights to participate in decision-making if the company were to be acquired.
Because of this, Edward couldn't simply copy Silph Co.'s structure. How to handle Devon's relationship with the League was something he had to solve himself. But it didn't bother him too much—when the cart reaches the mountain, there will be a way through. He'd figure it out when the time came.
"Now, for the box office…"
He glanced at the screen. TheGrudge 3 had already broken eight hundred million and was still rising, though the rate had slowed. Based on the trend, as long as nothing collapsed later, breaking ten billion was almost guaranteed.
Edward felt great. At this rate, he would officially become a "hundred-million-director"—a truly established filmmaker. One could say he had already made it.
(End of Chapter)