Just like that, four hours quickly passed by while I was taking out and picking up the trash.
Wang Jian bid farewell to the old man and then ran back to his small two-bedroom apartnt as fast as he could.
The apartnt was as chaotic as ever, littered with trash.
From El's room, a whiff of the stench of leaves would occasionally waft out.
Wang Jian shook his head helplessly.
In New York, you really couldn't ask for much with an apartnt that only costs $500 a month.
He silently returned to his room, turned on the desk lamp, and started translating the handwritten Chinese manuscript of "I'm a Great Mage" that he had morized the day before.
The protagonist couldn't be called Wu Lai anymore, there was no sense of engagent.
Wang Jian chewed on his pen, pondering over a na.
Just call him Mike, the most common and relatable na in TV shows, like any other person around you.
The big boss of Hell couldn't be called Lucifer anymore, not as well-known as Satan, so just call him Satan.
As for the na of the Heavenly God... let's just stick with Heavenly God.
Religious folks, not to be offended.
Having the opening breach through ti and space wasn't an issue, but sweet potatoes seed out of place.
Sweet potatoes aren't exactly cheap in the United States.
Let's switch it to corn, Aricans can't live without corn.
Even corn dogs are among the most widespread snacks, on par with donuts as snack giants in TV shows.
Uh, the magic system.
Do I need to borrow the magical network from the D&D system to perform magic?
Wang Jian flipped through the Chinese manuscript.
Forget it, there's too much to change.
Plus, the D&D system is too complex, too well-known.
Make one mistake, and you'll be flad.
Those otaku are as zealous about the D&D system as religious fanatics are about their beliefs.
Just go with magic without needing a magical network.
I also need to change the descriptions of female characters.
Slim figures, totally unacceptable.
Even though supermodels and the like all have flat figures, the popular aesthetic still favors curvaceous bodies.
Wang Jian considered the image of a voluptuous, saintly Angel...
Why does this style feel so odd?
Forget it, let it be.
For the sake of making money, bite the bullet and if my integrity is lost, so be it.
Right, I also have to consider the issue of racial diversity.
Among the twelve beauties the protagonist collects, there must be Asian, African, Caucasian...
Should I include Native Aricans?
Yes!
No one would dare criticize that.
In the end, when the protagonist becos the strongest and is dubbed the "Demon God King," it would be good to add a noble title.
Don't be fooled by how much Aricans slam the old European nobility; deep down, they're envious!
Haven't you seen countless fans of the Queen of England and Princess Diana?
Even the Norwegian Princess and the like are being followed by nurous people.
Finally, throw in a secret society, sothing like Freemasonry.
It perfectly hits the Arican G-spot.
A poor person raised in the slums, struck by lightning, transported to an Otherworld.
Ends up, he can't afford other fresh fruits and can only eat cheap corn products, becoming his Golden Finger.
In the Otherworld, he punches Heavenly Gods and kicks Satan in the shins.
He collects beauties from all races and then becos the highest-ranking noble.
Following that, he becos a mber of Freemasonry, silently deciding the direction of the world behind the scenes.
The whole process is full of clichés like a loser's counterattack, the underdog showing his might, after beating the small ones the big ones co, controlling one's own destiny, and never underestimate the poor youth.
Overall, it's just thrilling.
Of course, that's assuming one has thrown away their brain.
But then again, it might just work.
Even now, there are many people in the United States who believe that the year 2000 was the end of the world.
They bring brains with them, but probably wouldn't find this too dumbing down.
Not to ntion the elite class, just take the underclass people Wang Jian himself has encountered, mysticism runs rampant, and their education level is very average.
Though they have also attended school, received so education.
But considering the educational standards of the public schools, better not ntioned.
After a major revision by Wang Jian, he read it again.
Uh, why does it feel so nauseating?
He scratched his head, looking at the manuscript and couldn't help but laugh and cry.
At this mont, noise ca from El's room.
Two African-Arican guys, holding leaves, entered Wang Jian's room.
"Hey, brother."
"Long ti no see, where have you been?" Wang Jian naturally added in his mind.
Uh, that feels so familiar...
"What's up?" He turned his head to look at the two Africans.
"We heard that you're Chinese. Do you know kung fu? You know, the 'Hi-ya!'"
As they spoke, they posed in a Jeet Kune Do stance.
Damn kung fu.
Wang Jian was montarily at a loss for words.
However, looking at the two obviously high Africans, he wasn't sure what to say.
Suddenly, he thought of the manuscript, one third of which he had already translated, and an idea flashed through his mind.
"I don't know kung fu, but I like kung fu novels," Wang Jian said. "I've written a magic novel using kung fu novel tropes, could you guys take a look?"
The two African-Arican guys looked hesitant, exchanged glances, and then said, "But we don't really like reading, we'll try... only because it's on behalf of kung fu novels."
High and still showing difficulty.
The request might indeed be too much for them.
As Wang Jian sighed internally, he passed them the part he had translated.
Then he watched them step out of the bedroom, holding joints, and sit down on the living room sofa to start reading.
anwhile, Wang Jian turned back to continue translating.
Fortunately, "I'm a Great Mage" was only about 400,000 characters long, not one of those future novels with several million characters.
Otherwise, Wang Jian really would have been overwheld.
The richness of the Chinese vocabulary, filled with words that can be felt but not easily conveyed, was driving him, who used more colloquial language than written, to pull his hair out.
Such as the tis the protagonist would use various ancient poems to express his hosickness.
What about "in dreams unaware that I'm a guest"...
How can that be translated with both style and depth...
Forget it.
Translate it to, "Dreaming, I'm back on Earth."
It's just an enjoyable read, don't demand too much.
Suddenly, a "bang" brought Wang Jian back to reality.
It wasn't El's place where soone got too high and started shooting, was it?
He quickly got up and pushed open the door.
Only to see the two African-Arican guys who were just struggling with the manuscript now wildly jumping around with it.
On closer inspection, it turned out that their joint had dropped onto their pants.
The low-rise jeans had burned a big hole.
While both n were jumping, they were each holding half of the manuscript and still looking at it.
Wait...
Each holding half?
My manuscript!
Wang Jian hurried over to the two n, trying to salvage his work.
At this mont, El also opened the door and ca out.
A strong foul odor spread, and El, unfazed by anyone else, approached the two and loudly scolded, "These are all good stuff, why did you waste it like that?"
One of the Africans looked up at El, a bit dazed.
Then he turned to glance at Wang Jian.
And then he said, "It's too high, just too high."
The other one also looked up and asked El, "You got any corn rolls?"
El and Wang Jian looked at each other, at a loss for words.
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