The [Upload] button flickered slightly as Alauddin’s finger pressed down on it.
"Beep—!"
He looked nervously at the system interface showing: [Your story has been successfully uploaded].
"Is that all it takes?" Alauddin murmured, glancing at his story:
...
[Story Title: "Dara’s Sky"]
[Creator: Alauddin]
[Story Synopsis: This story takes place in a slum with reddish-brown rooftops, where the air is moist, the soil is grayish-black, and the rivers roll with a brownish-yellow hue. Dara, a man of low status, suffers through repression and family separation. Though short in stature, he is as agile as a monkey, often wearing a faded blue shirt. Despite living in poverty, he always tries to bring hope and food to the slum. His courage and sense of justice make him a hero in the hearts of the residents.]
[Plot Score: 52 (The the is sad, the tone is heavy, not favored by the World Tree.)]
[Character Score: 67 (The handso and clever slum hero Dara, the elder woman Old Banu selling eagle horns, "Iron Hat" officer Kumar, the little boy Ses who adores Dara, the jewel-adorned noblewoman Field... The characters are multifaceted.)]
[Logic Score: 56 (The protagonist Dara did not beco a slum hero because of extraordinary strength, but due to his willingness to protect the slum and bravely resist "Iron Hat" officer, which is difficult to establish in reality.)]
[Philosophy Score: 69 (A story of a young hero unafraid of power, accompanied by a diverse array of characters, with a fairly good ssage.)]
[World Mystery Revelation Score: 20 (The the has nothing to do with Luowasha, adapted from the life experience of the Creator.)]
[Ending Score: 0 (Ending not yet written)]
[Overall Score: 55]
[Current Elents: Realistic, Dramatic, Heavy, Adventure]
[Your Story: 18,293 words]
[Popularity Vote: Beyond tens of millions of entries.]
[Click Count: 288]
[World Tree Evaluation: "In this era, no one loves reading stories that are not gratifying anymore."]
...
This is the story that top-ranked player Alauddin has personally created since entering the Eleventh World.
He did not adopt the the of Luowasha, but chose to depict his own past life story, with the mory Clip coming from his own role-play. Due to the sad the and heavy tone, it is not popular in Luowasha.
Compared to Mizushima Kawa Sora’s "Phoenix Arrogant Nine Heavens: Shocking Six Miss," Alauddin’s story is not entertaining enough, and compared to Yi Song’s "Have You Dated the Demon Mother Goddess Today," Alauddin’s story is not attractive enough. People love reading exhilarating love stories involving the Demon Mother Goddess and stories about a lady assassin embarrassing foolish supre divine beasts. Who would be interested in Alauddin’s kind of story?
More interestingly, this serious and painstakingly created story has only 288 clicks, while Yi Song can casually throw out a low-quality, mindless short piece and get millions of clicks.
Even though no one reads it, Alauddin still diligently perfects the story. He knows that the story’s final score won’t be high, but an arrow once loosed cannot turn back.
What troubles him the most now is how to give this story a satisfying ending so that the final reward won’t look too bad. Actually, he just needs to add a bit of color, so lodramatic emotional conflicts to improve the score. However, the story, thed around his life, cannot overco the block in his heart.
"This is why I can’t catch up with the first-tier players... I’m too emotional, too entangled with unnecessary things..." Alauddin sighed silently.
This story will be uploaded to the World Book, becoming a drop within countless stories. However, the World Book will only select the best mory Clips and will not heed such insignificant stories.
Alauddin looked over at Anthony, the broad-shouldered, frowning blonde man busy making various calls:
"Yes, Avril, even if your story’s score is very low, please upload it... Why upload? It’s inconvenient to say, perhaps the Organizers are watching us, anyway, it could help Su Ming’an."
"That’s right, Laine, don’t be restrained by the story the... What? You say your story is...uh, that kind of the? Well, maybe it’ll be useful..."
"Su Shi... you’d better tone down the fantasies, yes, slightly modify it so it can pass the review..."
Anthony was requesting all players to upload their stories. Even if unfinished, even if there were holes, please upload them.
Alauddin went through the sequence of mory Clips in his story one last ti, satisfied with the story overall, only the ending still unsettled. He hesitantly asked:
"Anthony. How exactly can this help Su Ming’an? He stands under the gaze of the Gods; can our stories really aid him?"
Anthony ended a call, smiled: "Have you uploaded it? Alauddin, if I rember correctly, your story is about a slum man becoming a hero?"
"Yes, it is." Alauddin felt sowhat moved, not expecting the unnoticed story to attract Anthony’s attention: "I’ve already uploaded it."
"Then wait..." Anthony looked out the window at the sky: "Perhaps the scenery before your eyes will suddenly change in the next mont."
...Will the scenery before my eyes suddenly change? Will I be suddenly pulled into sowhere?
Alauddin showed a confused expression.
Thick clouds swallowed the sky, ink bled along the horizon.
In his ears, countless people continuously chanted "Long joy here, chant for our lord. Prosperity unceasing, blessings boundless. Rivers do not turn, honor for eternity," a voice sacred and powerful, like a hymnal.
...
Forest of Moonlight.
Su Ming’an, besieged by three High Dinsions and a Deity, failed to dodge and was pierced through the chest by the Radiant Mother God’s Holy Sword.
The fierce golden light rampaged within His divine body, inch by inch invading the seven-colored outer garnt, even the mask couldn’t stop the flowing blood, and He coughed.
At this ti, the Boss Rabbit’s emotionless voice sounded in His ear:
"Hmph~ As long as you beg , I might consider saving you~"
"No, that’s unnecessary." Su Ming’an wouldn’t place His hope on the Boss Rabbit’s rcy. He "clicked" open the Red Pocket Watch, glanced at the [8780/10000] value, calculated how much longer He probably needed to hold on, then actually retracted the Devouring Claw and Seven-Colored Scythe, leaving only empty hands.
Actively laying down weapons, this action is usually interpreted as giving up.
Gray mist lingered around Su Ming’an, the voice of the Master of Thought and Faith echoed like a thousand people’s chorus: "Are you going to give up? Co with , my goal is only you, I don’t care about Zhai Xing’s destiny."
Amidst the flowers and leaves, Yuritilola, appearing as a graceful lady, softly said: "It would be better to choose ... Hmph, I won’t harm you like the others; you can continue traveling with Noel brother."
The bone claw paused, Laplace issued a raspy voice: "I only care about the authority of your death, other things I’m not interested in. Instead of trusting Them, believe in the pure aim of ."
The daylight gradually sank, Kritchens’ voice like a scorching sun: "We can continue the previous pact. You’ve seen my thods; at most, I let you dream beautiful dreams, let you enjoy good rest. If you’re willing to give the position of World Master of the small world, I can even let you go."
This round of persuasion only made Su Ming’an hear full of treachery and betrayal, reminding Him of the ti in the Ruined World negotiating with the Ta Wei, where one condition after another was more demanding than the last.
He even heard Xiao Na’s voice:
"...If you can’t hold out for the remaining ti, you can return to fuse with , becoming the brain of the World Ga."
Xiao Na’s rose-colored figure faintly visible, floating amidst the drizzle.
At that ti in the Ruined World, what choice did he make? He seed not to have agreed to any.
This ti, it’s the sa.
Amidst the dense storm clouds, a white-haired youth with a back covered in white tendrils did not raise a sword, but instead lifted an ink-gold feather pen.
"Yuritilola, Laplace, Eighth Thrones, Tenth Thrones, Kritchens, the yet unseen Katantis, Xiao Na." From afar, He pointed the tip of the pen towards the sky, white hair fluttering at His temples.
Everyone was listening intently to His reply, waiting for His choice.
However, His gaze did not fall on anyone, and the vivid smile on the mask grew more and more rampant:
"As a clumsy Creator, forced to take on the burden of ’Olivius’, still writing incomprehensible juvenile Dragon King literature."
"Thanks to the inspiration before Sique Olivius dozed off."
"I will battle with you in Luowasha’s way."
"If you have the ability, catch before everything becos a foregone conclusion..."
He snapped the red pocket watch shut with a "click", wrapping the silver chain around His wrist. Then, He dramatically swung the feather pen, revealing the outline of the World Book in His palm.
The Gods did not realize what He was doing until Yuritilola, who was familiar with Luowasha’s situation, shouted:
"—’mory Clip!’ ’World Book!’ "
"He’s going to use the Supre Pen, leveraging Luowasha’s unique ’book’ system, to beco a Protagonist shuttling through the myriad pages!"
"He’s going to hide within the ’Collaborative Stories’ of those players!!!"
The Gods did not place much weight on Luowasha’s world system, and even at this mont, didn’t fully understand Yuritilola’s reminder, and their expressions showed a montary hesitation.
Until the World Book emitted a radiant light, and Su Ming’an casually lowered the pen, the tip randomly touching a story just uploaded.
He glanced at it, the story’s creator was nad "Alauddin", and the story was called "Dara’s Sky". He hadn’t read this story; it seed unknown, just happening to be uploaded at this mont, making his pen tip touch it. He didn’t have ti to select more stories, taking advantage of the Gods’ mont of hesitation to quickly use His ink-gold Supre Feather Pen to move Alauddin’s freshly uploaded story to the newest page of the World Book.
"Swoosh—!"
In an instant, the stars and the sky shifted.
The heavens, soaked like old cotton wadding with gray paste, as clouds churned in the low sky, and the stormy firmant turned into off-white book pages in that mont.
Su Ming’an raised a hand to tear open the garnt pierced by the Holy Sword, revealing the emblem of resonance from the World Tree seed at his heart, the pattern representing Olivius was burning bright blue at this mont.
"Thump thump, thump thump."
The sound of the heart beating strongly.
At this mont, the "World Book" emitted an exceptionally brilliant light.
To swap mory Clips required a huge price, for example, a top-ranked player like Boris might have to pay with his life. But what Su Ming’an did wasn’t swapping, he rely added a player’s uploaded story to the latest page of the "World Book", like adding pages to a story!
Luowasha is a book!
Everyone underestimated this world concept.
Since They ca as guests to Luowasha, they must abide by the world rules here!
From the mont Su Ming’an faced the Gods, he knew how he was going to make it through the final monts.
At that instant, the "World Book" in Su Ming’an’s palm suddenly radiated countless light particles, each carrying the roars and whispers of different virtual and real tilines, stories yet to be chosen, stories already chosen, the dissatisfaction of countless ordinary people, words buried in oblivion.
The white-haired youth wearing a mask stretched his arms amidst the rain of light, as if embracing the judgnt destined to pierce his heart, smiling at the Gods, seemingly provoking:
"—Next, welco everyone to the ho field of ’us players’."
In the next mont, His figure suddenly disappeared.
The sky, in the form of off-white book pages, slowly turned over, revealing a brand-new outline, shining brightly.
...
In the conference room, Alauddin sat in his chair, anxious and uneasy.
"What use does Su Ming’an want us to upload stories for..." Alauddin muttered to himself.
Anthony was still busy making calls, not answering Alauddin’s question.
Alauddin frowned, recalling again what Su Ming’an said at the beginning of the eting:
...
["Ladies and gentlen, I need to collect fifteen stories."]
["Please hand over the stories you have written up till now to . Whether urban style, martial arts style, ga style, light novel style, science fiction style... as long as you like it, it’s a good story, and I need them all."]
["I have nad this story ’Welco to the World Ga in Replay Mode’."]
["This will be a story we write together."]
...
...Collaborative stories.
Alauddin rubbed his temple, still unable to figure out the aning of that term.
"Swoosh!"
Suddenly, Alauddin felt the scenery before him abruptly change.
It was no longer the previously well-lit conference room, but a slum with red ochre eaves, filled with humid air, gray-black soil, and a rolling brownish-yellow river.
He saw a dusty youth, whose cheeks were stained with dust, and his temples marked with finger-like holes riddled with scars, his neck bearing dozens of cut marks, his face, bare shoulders, arms, hands, and shins covered with thousands of scars. A large hollow lay in his chest, with varying-sized wounds on his abdon, and even the joint areas of his arms and legs bore remains of fractures.
The youth held a glittering ink-gold feather pen in his right hand, and an open golden book in his left.
Throat slashing, heart gouging, abdominal piercing, limb severing, flaying, suffocation, blood loss... so much loss seed to have happened to him.
This was not the Number One Player Alauddin had in mind.
But this was indeed Su Ming’an’s face.
The youth walked towards him, extending a hand devoid of healthy flesh, with eyes confident yet gentle, looking at Alauddin, looking at—
You.
...
"Co." His voice was gentle yet firm:
"Co, let us walk towards the final journey."
...
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