100 Chapters in a Month?
"Look at this! I knew it! I knew our great Lord of Laws author would smack us right in the back of the head around here!"
"Kuhaha! A lofty sect leader of the righteous factions secretly practicing a horrific demonic art? Unimaginable in this stuffy real murim world, but that's why novels can dive in without restraint. And that's what makes it so spine-chilling and thrilling!"
Today, as always, the first floor of Nakyang's premier grand inn, Chwiseonru, was packed to the brim with martial artists, no room to set foot, simmering like a massive furnace. Their roaring cheers made the inn's weathered wooden pillars hum and vibrate.
These rough men had spent the past week, day and night, veins bulging as they debated a single topic ever since my new work, Murim Solver Jin Hoseong Volume 3 hit the shelves.
'Is the brutal murderer who wiped out that minor sect truly the renowned righteous faction, the Changhyeon Sword Sect?'
And today, with the long-awaited Volume 4 released through Danga Sangdan's distribution network, they finally got their breathless answer.
To cut to the chase, some readers' wild speculations nailed it perfectly.
The prestigious sword sect, Changhyeon Sword Sect, was a wolf in sheep's clothing—a fiend hiding behind a mask of filthy hypocrisy.
The shocking truth uncovered by the novel's protagonist, Murim Solver Jin Hoseong, after meticulous pursuit: the sect leader of Changhyeon Sword Sect had stumbled upon the ultimate taboo of murim, the demonic art of the Reverse Heaven Blood Demon, and secretly cultivated it.
But the leader of the small sect that got wiped out had unwittingly witnessed that horrific secret. To bury his ugly truth, the Changhyeon Sword Sect leader slaughtered the entire minor sect. And he cunningly disguised the scene to look like a power grab by nearby unorthodox factions.
Once exposed, the Changhyeon Sword Sect leader, Cheok Ilhu, revealed his true colors. He unleashed the Reverse Heaven Blood Demon's demonic art, shattering the encirclement in an instant and fleeing, with Jin Hoseong and his crew in hot pursuit. That was how Volume 4 wrapped up.
"That two-faced hypocrite! Preaching justice by day while steeped in demonic arts, trampling innocent lives by night!"
"I can't wait for Volume 5 where Hero Jin Hoseong smashes that repulsive sect leader's skull—my heart's about to burst!"
The readers trembled with rage at the hypocritical, brutal massacre by a righteous sect leader, yet screamed in ecstasy at their fierce guesses hitting the mark perfectly. They savored the spicy cliché of 'righteous faction corruption and hypocrisy'—one I'd whipped up from my past life's tropes—to the point their brains melted in delight.
In a quiet corner of the inn, I nursed a cool glass of takju, a satisfied smile creeping across my face.
Good thing it worked. I worried making righteous guys the villains would backfire, but they ate it up.
These excellent readers had sprouted the seeds of suspicion I'd planted, digging into the story's underbelly themselves!
With light steps and a hummed tune, I left Chwiseonru and returned to my shabby dorm at Cheongryong Mugwan.
"Kuhuhu, this is why I write."
Back in my room, I spun the worn brush on my desk, plotting the exhilarating payoff scenes for Volume 5 where Jin Hoseong mercilessly crushes Changhyeon Sword Sect's leader Cheok Ilhu. The dopamine rush from my brush tip already had my heart pounding that late hour.
Screeech, screeech.
A dull grinding sound of old wheels rolling came from beyond the paper window.
Huh? At this hour?
The creaking stopped right outside my door.
"Teacher Yeon."
A gravelly, elderly voice from beyond the door. Definitely the trash collector ajusshi.
A cold sweat trickled down my spine.
This late at night? It's not manuscript deadline, not our scheduled drop. This has never happened!
My heart hammered like a mad drum. I swallowed dryly and cautiously opened the door.
Under the dim hallway lantern, the ajusshi stood by his rickety cart, wearing his usual kind, honest smile. But the next moment, he shattered all protocols.
He plunged his hand deep into his shabby outer robe and openly thrust a tightly sealed paper envelope toward me.
This blatantly? Even at this deserted hour, what if someone saw?
"Found this while burning trash," he said in his folksy drawl, lying oh-so-casually. "Thought maybe you accidentally tossed something valuable with your garbage, so I rushed it over without burning it."
Even in a pinch, his cover story as a spy was airtight. And in that split-second eye contact, his innocent eyes flashed like a raptor's, giving me a fierce silent command: Take it naturally. Now.
"Oh no! Goodness gracious! That was close!"
Channeling every ounce of a web novel author's imagination and survival instinct, I overacted like a maniac.
"How'd this end up in the burn pile? Aigoo, thank you! I almost turned my precious letter to ash! Truly, truly grateful!"
I bowed repeatedly, snatching the envelope with exaggerated flair. Only then did ajusshi's tension ease into a faint smile. He turned wordlessly.
"Get some rest."
"Take care! Thank you again!"
I called polite farewells to his sturdy back vanishing into the dark corridor end. Once the cart sounds faded completely, I bolted inside.
Click, clunk!
I locked the door tight, sealed every sliver of light from the window, then tremblingly opened the envelope.
Inside lay a top-grade letter, fragrant with aged ink, neatly folded.
The sender was obvious: Danga Sangdan's young leader, Danche Ryeong.
Why a letter all of a sudden? Trouble with the distribution network?
With uneasy dread, I unfolded her meticulously penned note and began reading. But line by line, in her sharp, elegant script, my brow furrowed deeper... then my jaw dropped like it might dislocate.
[Omitted]
...Lately, large numbers of suspicious figures have been spotted lurking around our Danga Sangdan headquarters and the printing house.
Seems like they're digging for your identity. According to intel we've acquired, the culprits are very likely from the 'righteous factions.'
We checked with the Hwangbo family young lady just in case, but she says it's not them.
[Omitted]
...For now, we'll ramp security to the highest level with all our resources, so please be extra vigilant within the mugwan.
If you need armed escorts immediately for contingencies, that fanatic girl by your side, Hwangbo Suyeon...
[Omitted]
"What the... what the hell is this?!"
My hands shook violently around the letter as I collapsed to the floor.
My mind went blank white.
Righteous factions hunting me? Even when Hwangbo Suyeon mobilized Open Faction and Haomun networks into a dragnet, Danga Sangdan—murim's top intel powerhouse—had scoffed and evaded them perfectly.
For Danche Ryeong to dispatch her elite trash-collector agent in the dead of night with this warning meant it wasn't rabid fans' curiosity anymore.
Real pros with bloodthirsty intent had caught the scent.
Why are the righteous after me? Did I stiff the Hwangbo family on cash or something?
In my panic-squeezed brain, faces from Chwiseonru an hour ago flashed like lightning—the ecstatic readers.
"A lofty righteous sect leader secretly practicing a horrific demonic art!"
Ah. Aah!
I clawed my hair, screaming silently.
My novel, Murim Solver Jin Hoseong—the vicious culprit who cultivated Reverse Heaven Blood Demon and massacred a minor sect: Changhyeon Sword Sect.
Of course fictional. But I'd underestimated this honor-obsessed murim world's dynamics.
Even a fake sect—depicting a 'righteous leader feigning purity while secretly wielding evil demonic arts for slaughter'—had clearly touched the reverse scale of countless real righteous sects!
"We're screwed..."
---
The next morning, I dragged myself into Cheongryong Mugwan's main hall, eyes bloodshot from a sleepless night.
"Haa..."
Weekly all-staff assembly: once a week, every instructor and employee gathered. I slumped in the farthest corner, soul half-vacant.
No tasks for a lowly lit teacher like me anyway. I just prayed for the hall master's boring lecture up front to end.
"Ahem! As you know, in one month, the annual 'Exchange Matches' for murim alliance-affiliated mugwans."
The instructors' dozing eyes snapped alert at the hall master's heavy voice.
"Last year, Shenyang's Jujak Mugwan from Liaodong came here. This year, we head to Jujak Mugwan!"
Liaodong's Shenyang? Jujak Mugwan?
"Announcing participants. Led by myself, elite students for the matches, instructors including Senior Instructor Geum Cheolmu..."
I sighed in relief. No way my name joined those sweaty brute killing machines.
"And per Murim Alliance special directive, poetry and calligraphy contests too... Representing literature: Teacher Yeon Woon-ryong. That's all."
"...Pardon?"
A dumb, slack-jawed sound escaped me involuntarily.
Wait, poetry and calligraphy? Stick to swordfights, you sweaty mugwan idiots—why grab brushes now?!
I was livid enough to cough blood, but the hall master's stern face had long dismissed any appeal.
"Departure exactly one month from now! Including stay and round trip: total month and a half."
'Month and a half?!'
My heart plummeted at his terrifying decree.
Month and a half away from Nakyang? Right now, beyond Nakyang—Henan entire—was mad with addiction to my new work's spicy dopamine. Print slaves going nuts.
If I vanished to Liaodong for six weeks with no manuscripts, the publication schedule would crater.
Unthinkable. Only way to meet Danga Sangdan's brutal deadlines: stockpile six weeks' worth—my 'reserve stash'—before leaving.
Quick mental math, and my eyes quivered in despair.
100 chapters... in one month?
Yes. One month left till departure. I had to churn 40 chapters for the monthly serial and 60 more for reserves.
Even modern keyboard web novelists struggle with three intense sessions a day—now 100 chapters with this primitive brush in a month?!
Impossible for humans. Even breathing and writing barely cut it.
But capitalism knew no impossibles. Break this insane time attack, and through Danche Ryeong's crystal-clear settlements, mountains of silver would pour—dopamine madness surged.
"Fine... For one month, my life's dead. Can't go out anyway—eat, shit, then brush only! Three sessions short? Four it is!!"
But I didn't know then. The spectacles awaiting in Liaodong.