I Became an All-round Artist

The next day.

After Lin Yuan got up and washed, he went downstairs for breakfast. When he was about to pay, the owner of the breakfast shop smiled and waved his hand.

“No need to pay.”

Lin Yuan asked, “Why?”

The owner smiled even more cheerfully. “We have a new owner now. His name is Sun Yaohuo. He showed us your picture and said you're a good friend of his. He also mentioned that from now on, you're the most valued lifetime VIP at our breakfast shop—completely free!”

“Thanks.”

Lin Yuan didn’t insist. He was genuinely a bit surprised.

It’s common knowledge that many celebrities like to invest in restaurants. Lin Yuan didn’t expect Senior Sun Yaohuo to also have a taste for it. Not long ago, he opened a bubble tea shop, and now he’s invested in a breakfast place.

Should I invest in something like this too in the future?
Forget it.

I’ll think about it later. For now, Lin Yuan was focused on his first volume of The Legend of the Immortals (Zhuxian), which was completed and ready to be released.
As for the publisher, Silver Blue Library would be a good choice.

Lin Yuan had a favorable impression of Silver Blue. During the serialization of The Prince of Tennis, their distribution channels and marketing were excellent, and they even increased his royalties midway. There was no reason to change partners.

Also, Lin Yuan had collaborated with Silver Blue’s subsidiary Fun Read on a short story, and the experience was great—they paid well and promptly.

Unlike his initial uncertainty with The Prince of Tennis, Lin Yuan had a good deal of confidence in Zhuxian.

With that thought, Lin Yuan sent a message to his editor Yang Feng on the way to school: “I’ve finished writing my new book.”

“So soon?”

Yang Feng replied almost instantly: “Can you send it to me now?”

Yang Feng had set Chu Kuang as a special contact, given that Chu Kuang was the biggest author he handled. He had to prioritize any message from him.

Before Chu Kuang could reply, Yang Feng quickly tapped out another message: “Is it another tennis novel? That’s definitely your expertise, and with the success of the last one, I’m sure it’ll be an easy win.”

Yang Feng wanted to encourage him. He assumed Chu Kuang would continue writing sports novels, the genre that had brought him so much success. Everyone at Silver Blue’s Youth Fantasy Department was eagerly waiting for another hit.

Chu Kuang: “No.”

Yang Feng: “Then what is it?”

If it’s not tennis, maybe it’s basketball or football, two of the more popular sports. Recently, many authors had been jumping on the sports bandwagon, focusing on these two. Maybe Chu Kuang was about to show everyone how it’s really done?

That would be so bold! Classic Chu Kuang!

Yang Feng thought he was on the right track, but when he saw Chu Kuang’s actual response, he was stunned.

"Xianxia."

Chu Kuang wanted to write Xianxia. But what exactly was that? Yang Feng felt his mind short-circuit. As a professional editor, he certainly knew what Xianxia was, but that’s precisely why he was feeling a headache coming on.

"Like War of the Immortals?" he asked.

“Something like that.”

Lin Yuan had done his homework and knew War of the Immortals was one of the most recent Xianxia works on Blue Planet. But after that, no significant Xianxia novels had been written in Qin Province for nearly eighty years.

“Can we talk on the phone?”

“I’m about to head into class.”

That was the end of the conversation, but Yang Feng received a manuscript in his email shortly afterward—a novel titled The Legend of the Immortals (Zhuxian). Yang Feng couldn’t help but smile wryly. Chu Kuang was really set on going down this niche path!

Writing a Xianxia novel in this day and age? Was Chu Kuang stuck in the past? He was still in college! Xianxia might have been beloved by Yang Feng’s grandfather’s generation, but these days, no one cared about the genre.

...

Yang Feng arrived at work with a gloomy expression.

His colleagues noticed and asked, “Did an author miss a deadline again?”

“Worse than that.”

“Chu Kuang’s written a new book.”

Everyone paused and then burst into laughter.

“That’s great news!”

“Why the long face? A new book from Chu Kuang is a good thing!”

“Yeah, be happy he’s still willing to write for us!”

“I was worried he might work with another publisher, but it looks like he’s sticking with Silver Blue.”

“Is it another tennis novel?”

“Maybe it’s basketball or football?”

The team started discussing the possibilities enthusiastically.

Yang Feng looked at them and said, “It’s a Xianxia novel.”

The entire office fell silent.

After a long pause, someone cautiously asked, “Is it the kind of Xianxia we’re thinking of?”

Yang Feng forced a smile. “War of the Immortals, ring a bell?”

Really? A Xianxia novel?

What year is this?

Everyone was dumbfounded, the room quiet once again.

Ignoring the others, Yang Feng sat down at his desk. No matter what, he had to read through the manuscript and see what Chu Kuang had written.

To be honest, Yang Feng wasn’t exactly looking forward to it. Reluctantly, he opened Zhuxian and began with the prologue.

“Heaven and Earth treat all things indifferently, as they would straw dogs!”

This was the very first line of Zhuxian.

Had Yang Feng not read much before, he might have thought this line was incredible. In fact, some people in the past even believed this line was original to Zhuxian.

But Yang Feng had read Tao Te Ching and knew it came from there.

Laozi was one of the most famous figures of the Spring and Autumn period, and scholars had long debated the meaning of this line. Some believed Laozi was emphasizing the fairness of Heaven and Earth, while others thought he was suggesting that Heaven was indifferent, viewing all things as mere sacrifices.

Regardless of which interpretation was correct, the fact that Chu Kuang chose to open his novel with this line showed he had done his research.

But why insist on writing Xianxia?

Shaking his head, Yang Feng continued reading.

As an editor, he was used to reading quickly, and that was how he approached Zhuxian. He flew through the prologue, the first chapter, and then the second and third.

But when he reached the third chapter, he stopped. It was as if someone had hit the pause button.

For some reason, he went back to the prologue and started over.

This time, he read slowly, absorbing every word, as though afraid to miss a single detail.

For the first time in his career, Yang Feng found himself reading a manuscript with painstaking care—word by word.

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