bookbashuk Page 675
Page 675
Looking back now, my condition at that time may have foreshadowed my gradual weakening later on.
I believe my previous storylines were quite dense, so my subsequent thinking and design didn't keep up with my updates. Sometimes I might force myself to keep updating, but the quality, plot, and character design are lacking.
Moreover, and most importantly, I used to think late at night, but due to exhaustion and disordered sleep patterns, I am now in a state of confusion during the day and headaches at night.
I wanted to try thinking again late at night, but I felt completely drained.
What drives me crazy is that I, a woman, feel kidney deficiency and back pain when I can't type anything.
Sometimes when I'm writing and I can't continue, I even instinctively clutch my kidneys (I'm speechless, what the heck?).
After having my pulse checked by a classmate who studies Traditional Chinese Medicine, I was also given a serious warning that I needed to regulate my spleen and kidneys and adjust my lifestyle.
I am very thin, but my friend said my pulse is so weak that it is almost undetectable.
It's completely overdrawn. (It's like that.)
I feel like my brain cells are dying from all those sleepless nights.
At the same time, my real life is not going well either. The pressure from my studies and family is quite great, which may also be related to my own overthinking, overly cautious and timid nature. But some real problems have indeed emerged, which require people to be alert and vigilant.
I am keenly aware that while I may be able to achieve breakthroughs and create lighthearted humor in smaller storylines, my thinking is always a step behind when it comes to larger storylines.
Sometimes I lament in the dead of night that the past plot might have been arranged better, the story's presentation and pacing might have been different, and the characters' changes might have been presented in a more subtle way through small events.
I was tormented by not being able to think of a better plot and by my high standards for myself, but in the end I compromised on updating and found a compromise in writing, but I am still not very satisfied with myself.
I tried to continue writing at a high intensity, but my thinking became slower and slower. This may also be related to the fact that I put too much pressure on myself. The more pressure I was under, the less I could come up with a plot.
Of course, this situation has been around for a long time, but I'm afraid that if I slow down updates because of my own excuses, I'll actually stop updating altogether.
Therefore, I kept coding, and I made up for the low efficiency by using longer coding hours.
But this time, I really, really, really...
I hope to take a break during this learning opportunity organized by the school.
If I continue writing, or rather, if my unhealthy, high-pressure lifestyle continues, my body may die even sooner before I have a mental breakdown.
So, when I started creating this book, I weighed around 105 pounds, and as of now, I weigh 85 pounds, which is below the healthy weight range for my height.
Her hair was falling out in clumps.
I'm an engineering student, and my hair was already thinning. Now, typing has made me even more bald, and my hairline is receding even further. I really don't want to have baldness at such a young age TAT.
My hair! !!! !! ...
After finishing the update, I found hairs on the chair and floor where I was sitting, which was the most painful thing.
A person without hair cannot write a story.
Therefore, I need to ask for leave.
Because my condition is visibly poor, some friends around me are advising me to finish the book as soon as possible. But I still have a small part of the story left, and I can't finish the whole story in one go. I want to finish writing and completing the entire story, so I need to rest for a while!
My hair! My hair!!! My hair!!!
My heart is filled with unease every day, for I know that in this state I cannot reach the end. I am like a fledgling bird in the morning mist, never able to spread my wings and fly to that calm and peaceful lake in the distance. It is like a dazzling blue agate gazing at me, and I will eventually drown in the mud of the road, shouting out a not-so-clever character in the story with a hoarse throat. The song I cherished was never finished, not because my will shattered my soul, but because my hands had already fallen to their sides.
My kidneys are cramping. Why do I have kidney deficiency? Huh ...
I still love my stories, and I still want to add a touch of worldly humor and wit to my writing, but I've become gloomy, and my dull, lifeless body can't light a candle.
My kidneys hurt!!! Ughh ...
The first book always embodies too much effort and expectation. Unconsciously, I have invested too much. I still have a passion for words and a pursuit of plot. I hope to write more popular and humorous words, instead of completely giving up. My original intention is still clear: I want to make you laugh.
But I can't think of a plot, I'm so frustrated.
Mature and experienced authors always write lightly. I admire how these veteran authors separate their personal and professional lives, and how they separate their personal state from their works. Therefore, I have gradually stopped rambling on in the author's words. However, I always feel melancholy when I know that the plot is not quite right and I am dissatisfied with it.
Let's go grab a late-night snack.
I've been eating extra meals to gain weight recently.
With my little backpack on, I'm setting sail tonight.
Chapter 708 Interlude: Sun and Moon
You trek on and on, unnoticed by anyone, while higher-dimensional beings whisper in your ear at all times.
But now they are all silent.
Therefore, Neos was able to rest.
With light steps, deep within the palace, which he had woven like a spider web, the emperor evaded his loyal warriors.
Macado, who had been watching him intently, turned his critical gaze away with a hint of disappointment, but also looked away with disdain.
He will get along well with Olpeson.
The emperor thought to himself with ease, after all, they had a lot in common.
On the issue of rebuking Neos alone, if they wanted, Olpeson and Macardo could talk for three years without ever repeating themselves.
Neos provided them with a wealth of material and topics.
An emperor never forbids others from cursing him, just as he never forces others to praise him.
Most humans are deceived by the golden cloak he wears. They respect him, fear him, and their heartfelt praise and curses arise from this. The words they utter pile up on the emperor's exterior, forming an even thicker barrier, making Nyos's true self even more unknowable.
Another group of people are closer to the truth; they are either wise men with profound insight or simply foolish children who act on instinct.
Among these people, some chose to follow him, but later left or betrayed him after learning the deeper truth, while others kept a certain distance from him, respecting him from afar.
The former are Olpeson and Macardo, the latter is Hades—
Although Neos believed that his character was at least, or perhaps somewhat, better than that of his son Mortarion, Hades clearly preferred to work with Mortarion.
Neos interpreted this as Hades having low aesthetic standards and disliking gold.
But only one person, a wise man leaning towards secularism, a leader, a son, a bright moon, his wolf god, will choose to love him after glimpsing the truth.
This stems from a child's unconditional love for his father.
In a daze, Neos seemed to return to that afternoon, where he was wearing a white lab coat, holding a data board, and standing in front of the culture chamber.
Macardo coughed as he walked toward him, his scepter striking the ground with an ominous thud.
"All sons?"
The old man stopped half a step behind Neos, staring at the incubation chamber with a gloomy gaze, as if cursing these kids.
Marcado may have seen families with only sons, and how chaotic and chaotic those families must have been as those troublemakers grew up.
"Yes and no. I need generals and commanders—not sons, but war machines. Men are more suited for this position."
Macardo averted his gaze from the bubbling incubation chamber and frowned as he looked at the Lord of Humanity.
"So I guess you'll remove their emotional features?"
Neos paused for a rare moment.
"No, it won't."
He blinked.
"I want them to truly become human—"
The first step to being human is understanding humanity; emotions and desires are themes that run through humanity and human civilization, and we cannot abandon them.
Makado raised an eyebrow and tilted his head slightly.
"so--"
He drew out the sound.
“You want real humans, and they will be your offspring. I have a question: since you demand that they have emotions and serve you with affection and loyalty, will you reciprocate with your emotions?”
"will not."
The Lord of Mankind answered immediately, without any burden, and even with a light touch.
"I will be a good father, but my scales will always only hold human beings."
Macardo remained silent for a moment, his expression deeply hidden beneath the shadow of his hood.
"This is bad,"
The old man said hoarsely,
"They won't be ordinary humans; the monsters you create will be able to tell whether your emotions are genuine—"
Then they will demand your sincerity. When it comes to that, will you truly be heartless?
The Lord of Mankind answered him with confident silence; Neos even thought the question was unnecessary to answer.
Macado took a deep breath, sighed, shook his head, and left.
In retrospect, perhaps he should have trusted Makado more.
Neos finally entered the house. After stepping through the dim golden door, he felt as if he had entered a narrow stone cave. The faint moonlight shone through the cracks in the cave and rippled on the pool of water in the center of the room.
Neos reached out, clenched his fist, and blood dripped from between his fingers, falling into the pool.
He casually raised his head, and in an instant, the entire room seemed to be immersed in the depths of the sea. Thousands of shimmering white lights and shadows rippled in the air, and powerful yet gentle spiritual energy bloomed layer by layer, casting waves.
The white light, like flying snowflakes or the embers after a cannonball explodes, fell haphazardly to the ground, piling up into a phantom image.
It is Horus Lupecal.
"How are you feeling lately?"
Nios said casually, picking up a protruding rock to sit on. He was a little out of breath, after all, most of his strength had been used for other things.
Meanwhile, the impending awakening of Saint Gilles also attracted some believers.
The phantom Horus simply gaped open, frozen in disbelief.
[I...I'm still alive?]
"You still exist."
Neos shrugged casually.
"In the course of human development, life and death are not an insurmountable gap."
Horus jerked his head around, only then realizing what was happening.
[Father—Father?! !!!]
The Primarch emitted a sharp, explosive sound that was completely out of character for him. Then, to Nys' dismay, Horus began to weep almost immediately. The once tall and mighty former Warmaster looked like a child who had made a mistake, and his figure shrank and withered instantly.
At this moment, Neos might, perhaps, possibly feel a pang of self-reproach.
The words of self-reproach and repentance from the Wolf God were even more intense than Luo Jia's prayers. The Lord of Humanity listened, seemingly indifferent, as he was simply enjoying his time with his son.
Father and Son.
In human history, after the transition from matriarchal society, it once became the most important means of maintaining social relations, with blood ties determining closeness and forming clan-based alliances.
That was what Neos originally thought.
But after that, he realized more about those scenes he had seen but had been indifferent to: a father pushing his son away in war, only to be shot himself; or a son pushing his father toward the gun, but the father not scolding his child; an old man tremblingly taking out all his savings and handing it to his good-for-nothing son; or perhaps something even simpler: young people running and playing with their children in the park, their still-youthful faces beaming with smiles.
Of course, there are other examples: a mistress conspiring to kill the legitimate son's father, starving people eating their own children during a famine, and an emperor poisoning his son who attempted to usurp the throne...
That's just how humans are.
Neos had assumed he would be the latter, but in reality, he leaned more towards the former.
When he began to ponder how to save Lupecal from Chaos, Neos knew he had embarked on the path to becoming a good father.
Perhaps he always had this tendency; throughout human history, there have been many who have befriended and enjoyed themselves with those who murdered their fathers.
But Neos chooses to seek revenge against the enemy who killed his father—a subtle foreshadowing, all of which has its own clues.
After all, he is also human.
He has always been human.
"Humanity will never forgive you, Horus Lupekar."
Neos lowered his eyes and looked at Horus, who was kneeling beside him and crying. Horus was still a fragment and unstable, so his words were incoherent.
You can't expect logic or reason from someone who's almost blacked out from drinking. Horus is just crying right now. He probably doesn't even realize what he's done, but he's instinctively apologizing to Neos.