Chapter 434: The Autograph Session Begins

Chapter 434: The Signing Event Begins

The attitudes in China and Japan were completely different from those of foreign media. They knew all too well what Meng Fan’s manga was capable of, especially the die-hard fans. Even when he won Olympic gold, they saw it as a bit of a distraction from his true calling—a testament to just how rock-solid *The Extraordinary Man of Mountains and Seas* was and how much they adored it.

“It’s blooming!”

That was the biggest reaction on Chinese internet. Winning five golds at the Olympics, then holding a manga signing in Japan—a manga kingdom—and not just any signing, but one where the manga had long ranked among the top in popularity and even claimed the number one spot for a single day.

“Finally, we’ve been waiting!”

That was the biggest reaction from Japanese fans. The popularity of *The Extraordinary Man of Mountains and Seas* showed just how beloved it was in Japan, and its tankōbon volumes were among the most anticipated and sought-after in recent years, all because the art style was stunning, the technique unmatched, and the visuals breathtaking.

The artistry of *The Extraordinary Man of Mountains and Seas* had been recognized months ago as the best in the Japanese manga world, with no one else coming close.

For long-running series, the demand for artistic skill isn’t usually high. As long as it meets a basic standard, few fans drop it due to poor art. Take Oda, for example—his art was never top-tier among Japanese manga artists, yet his manga was the most popular and beloved.

Naturally, there had never been a case where a manga relied solely on its art to achieve massive popularity.

If there were, it wouldn’t be a manga—it would be an art book.

For Chinese and Japanese fans, Meng Fan’s manga was exactly that: an art book with an outstanding story and characters. Every single page and panel was so vivid that fans from both countries were united in their unprecedented praise and admiration for his skill.

In Japan, there was always a ranking of manga artists’ skills, with levels like SSS, SS, S, A, B, C, and D. But because of Meng Fan, a new level had been added: SSSSS, a never-before-seen 5S level—skipping straight past 4S. In other words, every Japanese manga artist was at least two tiers below Meng Fan in terms of technique.

A Japanese fan once conducted an online survey: “If *The Extraordinary Man of Mountains and Seas* had a terrible story, would you still read it?” Over 50% of respondents said yes.

Yes, more than half.

Another survey asked: “If the story were terrible, would you still buy the tankōbon?” Over 80% said yes.

As for foreign media accusing Meng Fan of cashing in, Chinese and Japanese fans slapped back with images—one wasn’t enough, so two; two wasn’t enough, so three. A few images were enough to knock everyone to their knees, leaving them stunned.

This Olympic five-gold medalist really could draw manga, and his skill was deadly.

As for the story, many hadn’t had time to read it yet, and those who had were already hooked, too lost in it to speak. There were still plenty of Western fans who loved Eastern manga; many of Japan’s national-level series were huge not just in Asia but also in Europe and America.

Forget about how popular theatrical versions of *Detective Conan* or *Dragon Ball* were in the West, or manga adapted into live-action films like Scarlett Johansson’s *Ghost in the Shell* or the upcoming *Detective Pikachu* based on *Pokémon*—whether it had fur, was talkative, or messed with your worldview didn’t matter. The fact that it could be adapted with Ryan Reynolds as the motion-capture actor and voice actor showed its audience and popularity.

If you could accept Japanese manga, then accepting *The Extraordinary Man of Mountains and Seas* with its Chinese style was much easier. Though it contained many elements distinct from Western culture, its bizarre and dazzling world still captivated many Western fans.

Of course, the fact that the author was Meng Fan added a lot of points, especially when critics came with harsh eyes and found nothing to criticize—they couldn’t help but fall for it.

An Olympic five-gold medalist creating such a manga truly blew the minds of many Western fans and onlookers.

Thus, when Kodansha simply released the news and did a little promotion, countless fans started spreading the word like a grassroots campaign. TV stations, including Japan’s largest network, covered it, mainly because an Olympic five-gold medalist holding a manga signing was too eye-catching. Overnight, this news became the most unique spectacle of the Kyoto Olympics.

To pull off such a big story in Kyoto during the Olympics—few could do it.

On the 15th competition day, the Nippon Budokan, which had completed all Olympic events, opened its doors again and welcomed another surge of visitors.

Meng Fan’s signing started early, at 8 a.m., coinciding with the release of the tankōbon in physical stores and online. As early as 6 a.m., people were already lining up at the Budokan’s entrance—mostly Japanese, mixed with some Westerners, Africans, and, of course, Chinese.

*The Extraordinary Man of Mountains and Seas* had long been released in China; those who wanted to buy it had already done so, and even some who didn’t had joined in the fun. But this signing was different. Because of his competition schedule, Meng Fan had never held a signing in China.

Chinese fans understood this, but they were also annoyed. They understood that his packed schedule prevented a signing, but they were upset that his first signing was in Japan—even though they knew it was because he had just finished all his Olympic events, and even though they felt proud and smug that he was making such a splash in Kyoto during the Olympics.

Of course, seeing so many people in line, knowing it might take forever to get their turn, they still felt proud and smug, not in a hurry at all. It felt more like a gathering than a queue—snapping photos, posting on social media: “At the Olympics, crashing a manga signing (green hat smoking emoji).”

“Already so many people?”

The signing was handled by Kodansha’s professional team. Takahashi Goro was just there to watch the fun. He arrived at the venue around 7:30 and saw the dense crowd outside—it was genuinely startling.

He’d seen big crowds before, but never one with such a mix of skin colors.

Takahashi stood at the entrance for a few minutes, satisfied, then followed the staff inside.

The Nippon Budokan was huge, with a capacity of 11,000 seats. Honestly, using such a venue for a manga signing was a bit wasteful—there was no need for such a large space. Before this, no one had ever held a signing there, let alone a handshake event for idol groups; they couldn’t handle such a big venue.

Meng Fan’s signing wouldn’t need all that space, but his fame could handle it.

The judo arena, temporarily built in the center of the Budokan for the Olympics, hadn’t been dismantled yet. For other celebrities, it would be inconvenient, but for Meng Fan, it was perfect. The signing table was set up right in the middle of the judo mat.

Signing manga on a judo competition mat—no sense of incongruity at all!

Meng Fan arrived at the venue at 7:30 as well. When his car passed the front and saw the scene, he went straight around to the back. Coming in and seeing the signing table on the judo mat, he couldn’t help but laugh.

He knew about signings—he’d been to plenty himself, buying books or CDs or other merchandise related to his idols. There were on-site sales, or you could bring your own.

For today’s event, you could only buy on-site, because the tankōbon was also being released elsewhere. Buying from somewhere else and then queuing here would be even slower.

Some idol groups, especially the popular ones, encouraged fans to buy multiple copies of CDs, even ranking individual purchases by region. But for today, although there was no rule forcing you to buy just one, each person could only get one signature. In other words, you could buy a dozen, dozens, or even hundreds of copies, but Meng Fan would only sign once—unless you went around and queued again.

Why do that?

A signature is a signature, no matter how many. It’s not like you’re asking him to sign the same book multiple times. Was it about being aloof?

No, it was just willfulness.

Meng Fan was willful, and the fans were willful too. Even though they knew he would only sign one per person, when the doors opened at 7:50 and they reached the sales point, many bought more than one copy. Some went overboard, filling their arms and chests with as many as they could carry—though waiting for the signature with all that in hand was a bit of a trial.

The signing started promptly at 8 a.m. The scene was orderly, with neat queues, though it was a bit noisy. Just after buying the manga, before even reaching the competition area, people were already greeting Meng Fan from afar—skin of all colors, hair of all shades, mouths speaking a mix of Chinese: “Meng Fan-kun,” “China Meng,” “Iron God,” “Meng Fatty.” It was lively.

“How many people have come?”

Meng Fan waved and smiled in greeting—many female fans in the front row had their hearts shattered by that smile. He sat down and asked a staff member.

The staff said, “Over 500 have already entered the venue, and there are at least 2,000 still queuing outside.”

Meng Fan nodded. He’d been to signings before and knew that number wasn’t small. Of course, it was nothing to him.

“Let’s begin.”

He gestured for the fans in line to come forward in order, and the signing started normally.

Sign, draw a little cartoon, look up, shake hands, smile, thank you—a whole routine. Meng Fan gave each person more than three OK’s worth of time—mainly because he wrote and drew fast. The handshakes and smiles were all standard.

The scene was warm, at least until the staff informed him of the number of people queuing outside for the second time. After that, the atmosphere shifted a bit.

(End of chapter)