Chapter 76: Report the Results

Report the results.

We surpassed ten thousand average subscriptions two days ago, but I was rushing to finish a plot arc and had no time to report.

Peak subscriptions exceeded thirteen thousand, average subscriptions just over ten thousand; we broke ten thousand average before reaching sixty thousand favorites, and my subscription ratio is the highest I’ve ever had.

Of course, it’s also the book with the most criticism about pacing.

I didn’t mute anyone unless it was excessive, because a feel-good novel can’t please everyone—some prefer weighty stories, some love dominating the battlefield, some want more fantasy flair; I can only balance as best I can without dragging the pacing.

After each major climax, I slow down slightly, develop the underlying world, and flesh out the supporting characters.

Each volume has a slightly different tone: the first human incarnation is historical momentum, the second is the Dragon’s Wrath, and the third leans darker, so the details are more elaborate.

I always experiment with different feel-good styles, then adjust the tone and plot based on feedback.

I reiterate again: you can say my writing is bad, but don’t attack the pacing or ruin others’ reading experience—I only have one move: permanent mute.

Finally.

Let’s chat about something from the past.

About ten years ago, I wrote a novel called Lord of the Abyss; it did well, winning Game of the Year in 2014. Then a little girl who also loved D&D appeared—rare, memorable—because D&D rules are so rigid—and she was still in middle school, insisting I give her a minor character. So I did.

That’s how we met.

One day, she mentioned wanting a game skin—I don’t quite remember, maybe Lu Bu—I didn’t think twice and bought it for her.

Because I too was once a child, and I understood that feeling of desperately wanting a toy.

She even used her pocket money to subscribe to my work.

It was a small thing. Back then, my income was decent; I occasionally took game ads, sent out New Year red packets in over a dozen big groups—though later, all those accounts got banned.

In the ten years since, due to my silence and real-life struggles, I rarely spoke up, only hearing that the girl later went abroad to study.

We hadn’t been in touch for about seven or eight years.

Then one day, she messaged me: she had graduated and started working, asked when I’d launch a new book, and said she’d reward me with a Grand Patron.

She probably saw I was struggling and wanted to boost my popularity.

I smiled and said okay, and suddenly felt as if time’s boomerang had struck me.

My previous book did terribly; I barely finished it at a million words.

I took a break.

After reflecting deeply, I decided to write a feel-good novel to repay my readers, then quietly launched it without telling anyone. She somehow found out, and while my numbers were still low, she gave me my first Grand Patron.

The boomerang struck me again, ten years later.

At that moment, I felt deeply moved.

I just wanted to share some small things, chat with you all—I’ve been sleep-deprived from rushing the manuscript.

Over these ten years, it’s not just one or two old friends—some longtime readers who saw me fail were more anxious than I was. I’ll tell you more about them another time.

Finally.

May the beautiful, fair-skinned, COS-playing rich lady find a perfect husband soon—I stand up and say this: everyone here is a handsome guy.

Thank you all so much for your support and for giving me this meal.

Bowing deeply, thank you.