Chapter 73: Writing a Novel Is Truly Exhausting!

Liu Ping was startled, cold sweat breaking out all over him. He had just been thinking that his senior sister was truly proud and aloof, and then she asked that exact question. It felt as though she had seen right through his thoughts. Could it really be so? How could anyone in this world know that word? He certainly hadn't told her.

A few days ago, his senior sister couldn’t divine anything about him, but after not seeing her for some time, she suddenly seemed able to read him like a book. Yet her next words left Liu Ping dumbfounded—it didn’t seem quite right.

Drunk in Mortal Dust frowned slightly and continued, “I know what ‘pride’ means. As the ancient saying goes: ‘Pride and extravagance sever the bounds of reason; without disaster, fortune will not befall.’ But what does ‘tsundere’ mean? Is it another new term you’ve created?”

Liu Ping replied, “How did you know that word, senior sister?”

Her cheeks flushed slightly, and after a moment’s thought, she answered honestly, “Hua’er told me.”

“I suppose it is a term I invented,” Liu Ping relaxed inwardly; so that was the reason. He sat beside her and explained, “A tsundere is someone who is cold on the outside but warm within.”

It was the simplest explanation; he dared not elaborate further.

Drunk in Mortal Dust was taken aback, then nodded, “So that's what it means. Not a bad word, then.” She looked at Liu Ping sitting beside her and asked, “Why aren’t you leaving yet?”

Liu Ping smiled, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you, senior sister. I’ve missed you dearly. Could I stay for a few days? I have some cultivation questions to ask.”

“Well… fine. Are you about to break through to Human Immortal?” Drunk in Mortal Dust finally relented, delighting Liu Ping.

He quickly answered, “No, I’ve already become a Human Immortal. Now I’m troubled about how to cultivate the seed of the Human Flower.”

“You’re already a Human Immortal?” Drunk in Mortal Dust was surprised; she hadn’t looked closely before. Now, sensing carefully, she realized he truly had achieved Human Immortal. Her junior brother’s talent was indeed extraordinary, though his complexion didn’t seem too good. Shaking her head slightly, she said, “I am a Daoist priestess, and my cultivation method differs from yours, so I can’t share much experience. But since you are a Human Immortal, I can offer some guidance.”

“Thank you, senior sister,” Liu Ping hurriedly expressed his gratitude. “With your guidance, condensing the Human Flower seed will surely be no trouble.”

“That depends on your own effort.” Drunk in Mortal Dust smiled faintly and poured him a cup of green tea. “Your complexion isn’t great—were you injured recently?”

Taking the tea, Liu Ping touched his face in surprise, “I didn’t think my complexion was that poor. Senior sister, you’re impressive to notice!”

Though his injuries had healed, there were lingering internal wounds that needed time to recover. Combined with continuous cultivation, he hadn’t rested properly, so it was no wonder he looked unwell.

Drunk in Mortal Dust said, “I can’t divine your fate, so my powers of observation must not falter.”

There was a subtle hint in her words—she sensed it immediately and felt a bit annoyed. Seeing that Liu Ping hadn’t noticed, she breathed a sigh of relief and pressed on, “Tell me, what happened?”

Liu Ping recounted everything that had happened in recent days. The tale was winding, and his storytelling was skillful. Drunk in Mortal Dust listened, engrossed, sometimes worried, sometimes tense, at times relieved.

When the tale ended, she said, “That evil spirit was truly audacious—deserves to be punished. It was dangerous; take it as a warning. Cultivation is the way forward.”

Liu Ping nodded in agreement, “I know. By the way, that Daoist’s courtesy name was Xuan Shen. He claimed to be my master’s junior brother. Do you know him, senior sister?”

“Xuan Shen?” Drunk in Mortal Dust nodded. “I’ve heard of such a senior uncle, but not well enough to say I know him.”

Suddenly, Liu Ping remembered something and asked, “Senior sister, on another note, I still don’t know the name of our sect.”

Drunk in Mortal Dust laughed, “You don’t even know that?”

Liu Ping admitted with some embarrassment, “I truly don’t. Master never told me, and I always forgot to ask…”

Drunk in Mortal Dust shook her head and explained, “The Heavenly Emperor commands the world of cultivation, with the Heavenly Court at its center, establishing the divine path. Above are three Dao Lords, transcendent and immortal, nearly undying. At the Emperor’s side are five Immortal Emperors: Azure Emperor, Yellow Emperor, Red Emperor, Ink Emperor, and White Emperor—all disciples of the Dao Lords. These five form the five great immortal sects. Cultivation in this world revolves around the three major Dao sects and the five immortal sects.”

“We hail from an orthodox immortal sect under the Azure Emperor. The sect is located on an immortal island in the East Sea, named Azure Emperor Island.”

“Though we pay homage to the three Dao Lords, we must always honor the Azure Emperor without slacking. The Azure Emperor Sect has existed for ten thousand years. Disciples are ranked by the eight characters: ‘Heaven, Earth, Mystery, Yellow; Sun, Moon, Full, Waning.’ You and I are ranked ‘Yellow,’ making us fourth-generation disciples—our standing in the sect is not low.”

“I must visit someday,” Liu Ping said, curiosity brimming. He wondered what wondrous mysteries the immortal island held.

Drunk in Mortal Dust responded coolly, “There’s not much to see.”

Settling into this small world, Hua’er was overjoyed, dancing with excitement—the meaning was clear: she wanted to eat the dishes her uncle made.

But Liu Ping had no time to cook, and Hua’er’s face darkened in disappointment, pouting unhappily.

“There’s nothing I can do about it—I have a mountain of things to do,” Liu Ping said, rubbing her cheeks with a smile.

Drinking the green tea was greatly beneficial. After sending off the sulking Hua’er, Liu Ping sat quietly, slowly absorbing the tea’s effects. He carefully examined his body, smoothing out all hidden injuries.

Then he practiced “Seeking Thought.” The technique was simple; he mastered it in just an hour.

Upon using it, he found it worked perfectly and was thrilled. He hurried to his writing desk and began to write.

“The Investiture of the Three Kingdoms”

The mighty Yangtze flows eastward, its waves washing away heroes. Right and wrong, success and failure, all turn to emptiness.

The green hills remain, while sunsets blaze red time and again.

White-haired fishermen and woodcutters by the river’s edge grow accustomed to autumn moon and spring breeze. Joyful meetings over a pot of muddy wine.

How many events throughout ages, all become idle tales and laughter.

To speak of the world’s great trends: long divided, must unite; long united, must divide. In ancient times, seven kingdoms contended, then were unified by Qin. After Qin’s fall, Chu and Han struggled, then united under Han.

The Han dynasty began when the First Ancestor slew the white serpent and rose in rebellion, unifying the realm. Later, under Emperor Guangwu, it revived, and passed down to Emperor Xian, when it was divided into three kingdoms.

The root of chaos traces back to Emperors Huan and Ling.

Emperor Huan suppressed the virtuous and favored eunuchs. When he died, Emperor Ling ascended the throne, assisted by Grand General Dou Wu and Grand Tutor Chen Fan.

Eunuchs like Cao Jie seized power. Dou Wu and Chen Fan plotted to exterminate them, but their plans were exposed, and they fell victim, after which the eunuchs grew even more rampant.

On the full moon of the fourth month in the second year of Jian Ning, the emperor held court at the Wen De Hall.

As he ascended the throne, a fierce wind suddenly arose at the corner of the hall. A giant green serpent leapt down from the beam, coiling on the chair.

The emperor fainted in terror, attendants hurried to rescue him, and all officials fled. In a moment, the serpent vanished. Suddenly, thunder crashed and rain poured, hail fell until midnight, wrecking countless buildings…

He wrote swiftly, nearly five thousand words for the first chapter—“Banquet at Peach Garden: Three Heroes Sworn Brotherhood, Slaying the Yellow Turban, First Merit Established.”

It was mixed with content from the “Investiture of the Gods.” As he wrote, he realized the fusion was awkward.

Originally, “Romance of the Three Kingdoms” was a blue book, as was “Investiture of the Gods.” Now, blending them, the book turned golden, even crimson, dropping more than one grade.

“By my plan, it should have turned deep blue, but instead it fell several grades. Fusion is truly not easy,” Liu Ping scratched his head, troubled.

“What should I do?”

He was vexed—should he just write the Romance of the Three Kingdoms, not the Investiture of the Three Kingdoms?

He felt unwilling; after pondering a while, inspiration struck. Snapping his fingers, he muttered, “I’ve got it—I’ll write an outline first.”

It was a good idea. With an outline, the writing wouldn’t be scattered and chaotic.

He proceeded to analyze slowly, carefully blending the two works, mixing in his own innovations.

The two novels spanned different eras; without changes, fusion was impossible. Those changes depended on the author’s skill.

Three hours later, Liu Ping finally completed the first chapter.

Looking at the deep blue “Investiture of the Three Kingdoms,” he clapped his hands in satisfaction.

Pleased as he was, after writing for so long, even he felt unprecedented exhaustion.

Writing novels is truly hard work!