I Became an All-round Artist

At Silverblue Publishing, the lunch break starts at 11 AM and work resumes at 1 PM. This three-hour break is more than enough for the employees to eat and rest, though few actually go home. Most choose to nap at the office.

By 11:15 AM, the editors from the Youth Fantasy Department finished eating in the company cafeteria and returned to the office in small groups, only to find Yang Feng sitting motionless in front of his computer, looking as if he’d completely zoned out.

Everyone shook their heads in sympathy.

Yang Feng really had it tough. He had finally landed a bestselling author, Chu Kuang, but just six months after Prince of Tennis started serializing, the story abruptly ended. Now all his hopes were pinned on Chu Kuang’s new book, but this time, the author had picked an utterly baffling genre.

It wasn’t just Yang Feng—any editor in the department would struggle in his shoes. Yang Feng was probably wracking his brain trying to figure out how to persuade Chu Kuang to change genres. The others took turns patting him on the shoulder:

"Come on, let’s go eat."

“There’s still a chance to fix this.”

“You can have a proper talk with Chu Kuang later, let him understand the current market. With his talent, if he sticks to sports, even if he doesn’t hit Prince of Tennis levels again, he’ll still do pretty well.”

“Writing about Immortal heroes? That’s a dead end.”

“That genre is ancient history.”

With a few pats on the back, Yang Feng snapped out of his trance. But then, he suddenly stood up from his chair, his face flushed with excitement, and shouted, “You guys don’t know what you’re talking about!”

Everyone exchanged puzzled glances, wondering if the pressure had finally gotten to him. His outburst was so out of character that no one took offense at his sudden rudeness. Instead, they felt even more sympathetic:

“Hang in there, man.”

“This really isn’t your fault.”

“It’s all on Chu Kuang.”

“Ending Prince of Tennis so abruptly shows how stubborn he is. Authors like him are unpredictable; there’s no way to plan around that.”

They had all hoped their words would comfort Yang Feng, but to their shock, he actually glared at them in frustration and declared, “I won’t let you talk about Teacher Chu Kuang like that!”

Everyone: “...”

Yang Feng, now almost dancing with enthusiasm, like a fish dropped back into water, exclaimed, “You guys have no idea what Immortal Heroes even is! Teacher Chu Kuang’s genius is beyond your comprehension!”

He was genuinely ecstatic.

The last time anyone had written an Immortal Heroes novel was eighty years ago with War of the Immortals and Demons. So when Chu Kuang announced his intent to write in this genre, everyone’s first reaction had been, “That’s outdated.”

Yang Feng had thought the same, until ten minutes ago when he’d finished reading the first volume of The Untamed Immortals. It was then he realized just how wrong he had been. Chu Kuang’s imagination had far surpassed any editor’s expectations.

Who knew Immortal Heroes could be written like this?

In this vast, intricate world, the imagery of the Qingyun Sect’s Bamboo Peak unfurled before him, as vivid as a traditional ink painting shrouded in mist. Zhang Xiaofan, with his unremarkable firewood stick, his playful and headstrong childhood companion Tian Ling’er, the quirky yet kind-hearted senior brothers, and the mysterious master—all the characters practically leapt off the page.

The Blood-Drinking Pearl!
The Three-Eyed Spirit Monkey!
The Battle between Buddhism, Daoism, and Demons!
The Qingyun Sect’s Six-Pulse Martial Tournament!

Every twist and turn of the plot stirred Yang Feng’s emotions, and each new concept made him marvel. Watching Zhang Xiaofan’s early struggles, the upcoming tournament at the Qingyun Sect, the pacing of the story hit all the right notes.

Yang Feng was convinced. He didn’t bother explaining how brilliant the novel was to his colleagues. Instead, he simply sent them all the manuscript of The Untamed Immortals, confident they would understand once they read it for themselves.

After sending the document, Yang Feng went downstairs to eat lunch.

The rest of the editors were left stunned by his strange behavior. They lingered a while longer before returning to their desks. It wasn’t long before they noticed the email with the The Untamed Immortals manuscript waiting in their inboxes.

“Chu Kuang’s new book?”

“Yang Feng sent it to us?”

“Let’s see what he’s written this time.”

Although everyone was skeptical of the Immortal Heroes genre, they were still curious. After all, it was Chu Kuang’s latest work, and Yang Feng had specifically shared it with them, likely wanting their feedback.

So they began reading.

On Earth, Einstein once offered a playful interpretation of relativity: when bored, time drags on, but when on a date with a beautiful woman, time flies.

Here on Bluestar, the editors didn’t know Einstein, but they could relate to the sentiment. For them, a good book was like a beautiful woman. Given the choice, some would even prefer the book. It’s much like how some gamers would rather play than pay attention to a goddess in real life.

In the same way, the editors found that time crawled when reading a boring manuscript, but sped up with an exciting one. By the time the three-hour lunch break was over, they were so absorbed in The Untamed Immortals that they’d completely forgotten about their naps.

Skipping the nap was unusual. It was part of their daily routine, and skipping it would make it hard to focus in the afternoon. Yet no one in the Youth Fantasy Department seemed to care. Even after the afternoon work session began, they remained fully immersed in the first volume of The Untamed Immortals.

Work?

That could wait.

Everyone was too engrossed in the story, reading with intense concentration. The office was unusually quiet. None of them even noticed when Yang Feng returned and sat at his desk.

Yang Feng smiled to himself.

He knew exactly how they felt. He had gone through the same thing that morning. The Untamed Immortals had to be published. At this point, even if Chu Kuang changed his mind and decided to write sports fiction, Yang Feng wouldn’t allow it.

Let him write about Immortal Heroes!

What’s the point of going back to sports fiction?

As several company leaders walked past the Fantasy Department and saw the editors focused on their screens, they nodded in approval.

“Good energy here. They’re already in work mode right after lunch.”

“Impressive.”

“Better than the other departments.”

Usually, the editors would take a while to get back into the swing of things after lunch, but not today.

Satisfied, the leaders moved on. But moments later, one of the editors suddenly cursed in frustration at their computer:

“What the hell? That’s it?!”

Enjoying this story? Support me on [Patreon](patreon.com/aiden_connor) to unlock more chapters early and get exclusive content!