"Izanami, do you really know what you are doing?"
Black Cat gradually lost its patience. Read complete version only at novel✦fire.net
Writing pure love fluff was just work, tearing things down ruthlessly was Life.
Besides, the novelist had originally written tragic stories.
"Call me Novelist. I am well aware, to hear the truth in the morning and die in the evening would be enough."
The novelist said firmly.
"I see, you want to take the path of emotional narrative."
Black Cat suddenly said.
"Emotional narrative progresses quickly, but it’s a narrow path. Are you sure about this?"
"Your path is a broad avenue, yet it has been over two hundred years since a narrator emerged."
The novelist countered.
"Narrator, narrator, sigh~"
Black Cat heaved a long sigh, and the other Platinum Authors also looked troubled.
As an author, becoming a narrator was their ultimate goal.
But since the Metropolis kept records, there had been only a few narrators.
The last narrator appeared over two hundred years ago, who was also the current chairman of the Writers’ Association.
It was also because of his presence that the loosely organized Writers’ Association could sit on par with other top powers.
However, the chairman had rarely shown up in recent years, and no one knew what state he was in.
Thinking about the unfortunate outcomes of narrators in their later years recorded in the Association’s library, Black Cat subconsciously turned into airplane ears.
It could wait no longer, it had to take control of the situation immediately.
Black Cat took out a monocle and put it on its eye, a smile that sent shivers down one’s spine appeared on its lips.
"Interesting, this aura, it really smells like the Mother Goddess."
It looked at Liu Zheng and said, its tone completely changing to someone else’s.
"Five minutes? That’s not enough. I need at least an hour to play."
Black Cat muttered to itself.
"You said it yourself, half an hour, and I’ll do whatever I want."
"Don’t worry, I won’t go to places I shouldn’t. How would I come out if you died?"
The exchange, invisible to outsiders, ended, and it turned to look at the novelist.
"Miss, will you go down on your own, or shall I drive you down?"
"Out of a gentleman’s courtesy, I advise you to go down yourself. That way, you can keep some dignity, and I can save some time."
"Black Cat" said leisurely.
The novelist did not answer, but her vigilance was at its highest.
When authors reached the Platinum Level, their strongest abilities often related to their work.
And Black Cat’s best work was "Amon and His Monocle."
One of its abilities was to assume the personality of the main character "Amon" from this novel.
Under this personality, Black Cat’s power was tremendously strong and quite enigmatic.
Once a group of heretics tried to kidnap it to write a scripture for their sect, only to be annihilated by Black Cat after it assumed the "Amon" personality.
And the strength of those sects was considerable, only slightly less than the Round God sect Liu Zheng had encountered.
Black Cat was using this move against her, indicating it truly intended not to hold back.
Then she wouldn’t hold back either.
The novelist’s eyes grew more determined.
Only by reaching the extreme of emotions can one reach the extreme of writing.
Emotional narrative authors never ask themselves what they should write, only what they want to write.
And now, she wanted to write a story about someone who would fight the whole world for him.
After her thoughts became clear, countless glowing characters surged from the novelist’s mind.
They were her overflowing inspiration, as well as the accumulation of many years.
The glowing characters coalesced behind her into a massive humanoid figure of light.
The humanoid’s eyes and eyebrows were those of the novelist, but it was dressed in a witch’s clothes.
The novelist brought her sword arms together, and the colossal witch’s phantom did the same.
A nearly three-meter-long single-edged straight sword appeared in her hands, wrapped in dazzling thunder.
As another personality of Black Cat, he naturally shared its memories.
Budo’s Soul Sword was a weapon from a short story the novelist wrote back when she was still Izanami.
In the story, Emperor Shenwu and Kaminari, the Thunder God, experienced earth-shattering love, but were rejected by both gods and humans.
The Mother Goddess Izanami couldn’t bear to see her child in pain and decided to kill Emperor Shenwu herself.
To protect his lover, Kaminari boldly swung his sword at his own mother, severing a hand of Izanami with Budo’s Soul Sword.
Seeing the great trouble Kaminari had caused, Emperor Shenwu didn’t want him to be killed by the furious father god Izanagi. Taking advantage of Kaminari’s distraction, he stole Budo’s Soul Sword, took all the blame upon himself, and then committed suicide.
And upon seeing his lover’s suicide, Kaminari, unwilling to live alone, also killed himself with Budo’s Soul Sword.
This short story was the novelist’s breakthrough work, winning first place on the platform-wide short story charts and dominating for half a year.
Because of this short story, she leapt to fame as a Gold-Level Author.
But this alone was not enough to concern Amon.
A mere half-year domination of the short story charts? He was the protagonist of a novel that continued to top the bestseller charts for long works even two years after completion.
The problem was that Budo’s Soul Sword and the novelist’s own abilities were extremely compatible. Under their exponentially combined enhancement, even Amon could not ignore the terrifying aura of destruction.
"If you wield power over a short story realm you’ve given up on, drawing from your inspiration and your bloodline, you’ll manage only a single strike. After that one blow, you may be the one to die from the backlash. Is it worth it?"
"Whether it’s worth it or not, I decide."
The novelist spoke indifferently.
Her pupils had turned into amethyst and pink Hook Jade.
"Interesting. Let’s see who gets to decide, then."
Amon adjusted his monocle, a slight flicker in his eyes beneath the lens.
During their brief conversation, he had already reached into the novelist’s mind.
Now, with just a light pluck, he could steal her thoughts.
As for what thoughts to steal...
A smirk crept onto Amon’s lips; he had a very good idea.
Just as he was about to make his move, a heart-thudding aura suddenly came through.
Amon’s heart skipped a beat, and he violently turned to look in the direction from which the aura had come.
In the layers of enveloping Blood Fog, streaks of red light were piercing through.
That red light was not Blood Light, yet it was more dazzling than Blood Light, sharper than sword light, and more brilliant than sunlight.
If the Gospel-empowered Blood Fog was merely troublesome to Amon, this sudden burst of Blood Light was terrifying.
Because it shook the very foundation of his existence.
Amon searched through Black Cat’s memories, but found no corresponding information.
There were bits and pieces, though, which unsettled him even more.
But it wasn’t as if he was without a solution.
If he couldn’t defeat it...
Amon removed his monocle and slipped it into his pocket.
The once sinister black eyes reverted to clear green.
Black Cat cursed loudly.