Chapter 172: The Cultural Dregs Imposed on Us
In the dream, a gray haze enveloped everything, as if the world had not yet come into being. At the center of the dream stood Owen Green, his eyes tightly closed, asleep on his feet.
Jima appeared above him, spreading her four-meter-long bat wings, casting a shadow over Owen Green.
Gazing around at the dream she could manipulate, a wicked smile curved Jima’s lips. The painful memories left by the cultural dregs churned in her mind, igniting an endless well of inspiration.
Now, she intended to transform these cultural dregs into dreams, provoking Owen Green, making him feel pain, and stirring his own inspiration.
In writing novels, having inspiration is merely the first step of a long journey. Transforming inspiration into words is already difficult, and even harder is connecting it to the story, needing both to be “brilliant” and reasonable.
However, this most challenging step would be taken care of by Owen Green; Jima only needed to pour the cultural dregs into his mind.
What shall we start with as an appetizer? A dragon knight plot, perhaps.
The dragon knight plot is from a martial arts novel on Earth, where the heroine is named Xiao Longnv, beautiful like a fairy, but a mischievous master incapacitates her with acupoint strikes, and then a Taoist approaches to pick up the corpse, having his way with Xiao Longnv, who naively believes him to be the male lead and shyly responds…
Such a plot, once penned by a master, became poisonous to a vast number of readers. It is said that readers were so enraged that they splashed red paint at the newspaper office.
Out of respect for the master, Jima first showed this dream to Owen Green.
Initially, in the hazy dream, Owen Green felt the presence of a pure and beautiful Xiao Longnv before encountering the dragon knight plot.
To intensify Owen Green’s inspiration, Jima allowed him to observe the entire process of “riding the dragon.”
Owen Green widened his eyes, filled with rage, yet couldn’t make a sound; he felt like a bug entombed in amber, completely unable to move.
He could only watch helplessly as the “dragon knight” covered Xiao Longnv’s face with a handkerchief…
Time passed, and finally, the dragon knight left. Watching his retreating figure, Owen Green momentarily broke free of Jima’s confinement and let out a furious roar at the back:
“Ahhhhhhh!”
His eyes wide with rage.
A trickle of painful power flowed into Jima, who covered her mouth and chuckled softly, waving her hand to change the dream once more.
Before Owen Green, the scene shifted, forgetting the previous dream and smoothly accepting his new identity—he was now a master. He had returned from his travels, infiltrating the mansion of the enemy general in his fallen hometown.
However, he saw his fiancée, who had now been reduced to a concubine of the enemy general.
Owen Green couldn’t help but stop in his tracks, frozen on the rooftop. Under Jima’s arrangements, he recalled the beautiful past with his fiancée, remembering how he played the flute while she sang “The Phoenix Seeks the Phoenix.”
Below, Owen Green’s fiancée was instructing the rightful wife on how to please the general.
“Drinking more sesame oil can keep your chrysanthemum soft and supple.”
Awakening from the memories, Owen Green clenched his fists tightly.
Soon, the fiancée went to the bedchamber, showcasing her unique skills to please the general.
Owen Green tightened his hold on the flute, lamenting the world’s changes. His beautiful fiancée, for her own safety, had to succumb to this fate—not that he blamed her—although Owen Green had the ability to rush in and rescue her, under Jima’s interference, he had no such thoughts.
Bad sounds came from below.
Owen Green felt a sharp pain in his heart, entering a sort of literary state. Though he had a way to rescue his fiancée and offer her choices, he did not act; instead, he picked up the flute he always carried and began to softly play “The Phoenix Seeks the Phoenix.”
His fiancée’s cries floated up from downstairs.
Halfway through, Owen Green became lost in the music, his eyes gently closed, tears cascading down.
It seemed Owen Green had fully immersed himself in his role.
Jima covered her mouth, laughing softly, feeling quite pleased. The pain from her memories of those cuckold plots diminished significantly.
“So refreshing.”
Jima felt lighthearted.
Normally, this would have been sufficient.
But seeing Owen Green so absorbed, she felt it was her duty to help him achieve extraordinary literary works.
Thus, she poured all the profound cuckold plots from the demon king’s memories into him at once.
Everything from the grand villain stripping Owen Green’s beloved woman and fighting with her hanging on him was stuffed into his mind.
This inspiration dream consumed an entire day for Owen Green.
Jima stretched, exhaling a long breath of stale air: “I really dedicate a lot to literature.”
“It’s truly a meaningful job.”
Indeed, all the worries of these past days had vanished in an instant.
After all, true happiness is built on the suffering of others.
Satisfied, Jima left Owen Green’s dream, her tiny remnant of conscience feeling no pain at all.
After all, only writers tempered by suffering have the opportunity to produce great works. Owen Green was originally mediocre; it was she who gave him the chance to become a great author.
I haven’t even asked Owen Green for money yet; people like me are becoming rare.
Not even a second after the succubus left the dream.
Owen Green awoke with a start, drenched in cold sweat, panting as if he were a frightened rabbit, touching the light-colored sheets and pinching his thighs to confirm he was awake.
The tears could not help but fall.
“Finally awake from the nightmare.”
He sniffled, and just by thinking of the nightmare’s content, his heart tightened, wishing he could bash his head against the wall to forget the memories of that nightmare.
Owen Green took a deep breath, wiped his tears with the light-colored sheet, got out of bed to relieve himself, and glanced at his desk.
The desktop was littered with thick stacks of manuscript papers, crumpled papers scattered all about; he was still troubled over how to write the ending.
Suddenly, a brilliant idea struck him as he slapped his head.
“Those dreams I just had are just what I need!”
Inspiration surged over him like a flood.
Owen Green became increasingly excited, unable to resist slapping his thigh.
“Surely the literary gods have noticed my determination to uphold literature.”
Owen Green dashed to the bathroom, quickly taking care of his physical needs, disregarding his hunger as he ran back to the desk, picked up the pen that Lady Jima had gifted him, and the tip hovered over the paper, pausing.
He gently closed his eyes, recalling Lady Jima’s glances and smiles, intense emotions reverberating in his chest.
He suddenly opened his eyes, looking at the paper where, unbeknownst to him, he had written “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure.” With a determined stroke, he crossed out the line that read “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure.”
At that moment, Owen Green felt like an unparalleled swordsman, shouting to the world with a mix of grief and indignation, defending the purity of literature.
He took a fresh piece of paper and began to write furiously. As the lines flowed from the tip of his pen, his chest filled with a sense of vengeful joy.
Now, I am no longer a writer of sensationalist novels, nor am I his dog any longer.
Owen Green raised his chin, and soon enough, a great green hat appeared atop JoJo’s head in his writing.
Four days later.
After twenty major revisions, the ending of “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure” was meticulously crafted by Owen Green and was near perfection—at least, Owen Green felt it was perfect.
He seamlessly melded numerous elements from his dreams, such as the dragon knight, playing flute in merriment, and the villain battling with his loved one hanging on him, into a strong climax.
In his eyes, although the ending only accounted for twenty percent, it was the essence of the story, forcefully elevating this otherwise unremarkable vulgar novel to a place worthy of being recorded in literary history.
Owen Green, with heavy dark circles under his eyes and a thick stack of manuscript papers in hand, slammed it proudly and confidently onto the desk.
“This is the completed manuscript for the second part of ‘JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure.’”
The bearded man took it in both hands and personally flipped through the pages: “Just right, I quite like this work; hmm, it has that flavor now.”
“Of course.” Owen Green replied, “He only provided an outline; the rest is all my writing. I am the second author, no, it would not be wrong to call me the first author.”
The bearded man glanced at the book and suddenly laughed out loud: “Hahaha, I’m just laughing at the plot inside.”
“Is it qualified?”
“Give him gold coins.”
Owen Green took a bag full of gold coins, not bothering to count them, and turned to leave. As his right foot crossed the threshold,
a gloomy voice suddenly came from behind: “Wait.”
Owen Green stopped in his tracks.
The bearded man asked: “Why isn’t the ending a happy reunion? It seems the protagonist’s wife is pregnant with another man’s child.”
“Exactly.” Owen Green stated, “A total of thirteen children were born, all raised by the protagonist in memory of the wives he lost.”
“I’m not talking about that!” The bearded man slammed his hand on the table, “Are you playing me? How can this sell?”
The lackeys closed in, brandishing heavy clubs and laughing: “Boy, do you need Daddy to give you a proper education?”
At that moment, Owen Green felt a rush of courage; the bearded man’s lack of literary appreciation could not allow him to sense the educational significance of this masterpiece.
“Just like that.” Owen Green replied, “I used to write like this, and then the first part of ‘JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure’ sold very well, causing Adolf’s paper prices to rise a hundredfold!”
Seeing Owen Green’s confidence, the bearded man hesitated for a moment before waving his hands: “Spank him.”
After taking thirty spankings, Owen Green remained resolute, standing tall and straight, saying, “If something goes wrong, you can tell everyone it was written by me, Owen Green.”
Faced with such integrity, the bearded man hesitated, took a step back, admitted his mistake, helped Owen Green up, and personally assisted him in pulling up his pants, repeatedly apologizing:
“I’m sorry, I’m in debt and relying on this book to turn my fortunes around; I was too anxious.”
“I forgive you.” Owen Green replied, “You have three days, three days to submit the manuscript.”
The bearded man gritted his teeth: “Understood, the printing factory workers are waiting.”
That night, the printing factory worked overnight to print “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure (Part 2),” and news of the second half of JoJo’s bizarre adventure spread throughout Adolf City.
Many people couldn’t sleep upon hearing the news, their hearts scratching like cat claws, finally finding rest only after re-reading “JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure.”
