Living in the bubble economy of Tokyo, I became a literary giant through lotteries.

Major newspapers urgently replaced their already written articles with editorials, working overnight to conduct in-depth analyses of juvenile law issues.

TV current affairs programs naturally wouldn't miss this hot topic, and commentators from all walks of life argued heatedly in the studio.

Even in cafes near Congress, you could hear congressional secretaries whispering about the matter. Some astute politicians were already plotting how to use this opportunity to gain political resources for themselves.

In the era before the internet became widespread, the main battleground for public opinion was still the weekly magazines that were published every week and filled the shelves of convenience stores on every street corner.

This time, however, the magazine cover no longer featured the sweet smiles of idol stars, but instead displayed a series of breathtaking headlines:

"Juvenile Law: Protection or Indulgence?"

Why is school bullying so persistent despite repeated bans?

When will the oppressed be able to speak out?

People spontaneously divided into two factions: conservatives and radicals.

Radicals felt that the juvenile law should be reformed immediately, while conservatives felt that the radicals were too conservative and should be completely overturned and a new juvenile law should be drafted.

In other words, this time, everyone is rushing in a radical direction, and such a near-one-sided public opinion is extremely rare in history.

At the heart of all this storm, Guan Gufeng's name was mentioned time and again.

He is no longer "that bestselling novelist," but has been given titles such as "flag bearer of social fantasy literature," "exposing youth problems," and "conscience of the Heisei era."

Each one louder than the last, yet each one heavier than the last.

Young students regard him as a spiritual totem, and "What Teacher Guan Gu said" has become the most popular catchphrase on campus.

Faced with overwhelming public opinion, the Japanese faculty and staff association could no longer play the ostrich and quickly contacted Bungei Shunju, hoping they could control the public opinion and ideally remove "The Twelve Kingdoms" from circulation for a period of time.

This act of trying to cover one's mouth beforehand made Editor-in-Chief Yamamoto laugh in exasperation.

With such a high level of discussion, bookstores are experiencing shortages, printing plants are operating on three shifts a day. Cutting off someone's livelihood is like killing their parents; the Japanese Education Group is already courting disaster.

Editor-in-Chief Yamamoto contacted Weekly Bunshun, and they hit it off immediately. They wrote an article about the Japanese Education Group's attempt to control public opinion and remove books from shelves, and published it in Weekly Bunshun.

The hype was immediately amplified, given this condescending and pressure-pressuring attitude.

Young students ridiculed the adults' incompetence, and The Twelve Kingdoms sold even more copies, becoming a fashionable item among students.

Just as the social storm triggered by Guan Gufeng was intensifying, the person at the eye of the storm was sitting at his desk, facing a blank sketch, and was in distress.

Guan Gufeng encountered a problem, not a big one, but not a small one either, yet it left him stuck in a limbo.

When he was drawing K-On!, he forgot something very important.

K-On! was originally a four-panel manga series that began serialization in 2007 in Houbunsha's Manga Time Kirara magazine, which features cute four-panel manga.

Its sister publication focuses on lighthearted, everyday stories, so K-On! has always been a standard four-panel comic book since its inception.

When Guan Gufeng started drawing, he faithfully followed the art style of the original animation in his memory to draw the characters, and adopted the "four-panel comic" panel format of the original work.

So, here's the problem.

In Japan's manga industry, there is a complete and rigorous process for new manga artists to debut.

First, you need to create a short story, and then, depending on the type of manga, submit it to manga magazines published by major publishers such as Kodansha, Shueisha, and Shogakukan to participate in their newcomer award selection.

The results of these newcomer awards are usually divided into three levels: "selected", "participant", and "honorable". Only works that are ranked "honorable" or above have the opportunity to be published in the main issue or supplement of the magazine.

If readers provide positive feedback after publication, the editorial department will consider commissioning you to draw a second short story, or starting a serialization directly.

Once you have a compelling long-form project that impresses the editor, and the serialization has gained a certain level of popularity, the publisher will compile the serialized content into a book and publish it as a standalone volume.

From short stories to serializations, and from serializations to standalone books, each hurdle is higher than the last.

Many young people with dreams of becoming comic artists have failed at the very first step, unable to even win a newcomer award for their work.

Even worse, some works may be canceled due to low popularity, even if they get the chance to be serialized.

The cruelty of this industry is no less than that of the literary world.

The problem that Guan Gufeng is facing now is that K-On! is a four-panel comic.

Four-panel comics have a natural disadvantage in the selection of newcomer awards.

This comic book format, which occupies three-quarters of the page, often ends with a funny or heartwarming short joke, focusing on the "trick" revealed in each chapter rather than a long narrative.

The judges for the newcomer award, especially those from prestigious shonen manga like Weekly Shonen Jump, value the tension of the panel layout, the integrity of the narrative structure, and the potential for a long-running series.

A four-panel slice-of-life comic strip trying to enter an award of the Tezuka Award or Akatsuka Award? It's practically like throwing an egg against a rock.

Of course, Guan Gufeng also knew that with his current social status and industry connections, the problem was actually quite simple.

His phone book contained greetings from Haruki Kadokawa, executives of Bungei Shunju, and editorial departments of Shueisha and Kodansha who had contacted him through various channels.

As long as he speaks up, even if what he draws is actually a pile of shit, these editorial departments will scramble to get him to publish it.

The four characters "Guan Gu Shen Qi" are themselves a volcano that is erupting.

After all, there's more than just Weekly Shonen Jump as a single, narrow path for manga magazines; there are also Weekly Young Jump, Weekly Young Magazine, and many others.

If you can't get into Weekly Shonen Jump, you can get into other publications. Just add a few color pages and publish it as a "special contribution," and you can even gain a cash cow of friendship.

What if Mr. Guan Gu's next novel is published by his own publishing house?

Guan Gufeng wasn't a pedantic person. It would be foolish for someone to refuse to take shortcuts because of connections. Given the current environment, he didn't need to pretend to be aloof.

But the problem was, when he opened the drawer, he found today's morning paper. The front page headline in the society section boldly proclaimed:

National Dongda University Professor Praises Kuan Ku's Miraculous Care: He is the Conscience of the Younger Generation

Turning to the inside pages, the editorial section features lengthy discussions about the wave of juvenile law reforms sparked by "The Twelve Kingdoms".

The article quotes a large number of statements made by young students in street interviews, all of which are filled with admiration and respect for Guan Gufeng.

"Teacher Guan Gu taught me to bravely fight back against bullying."

"Yoko taught me that it's okay to be afraid, the important thing is not to give up."

"I hope to become someone like Mr. Guan Gu, who can change society through words."

He closed the newspaper, threw it back into the drawer, and sighed deeply.

Public opinion is a double-edged sword; it can be as useful when things are going well, but it can also backfire when problems arise.

Public opinion today has shaped him into a near-perfect role model: exceptionally talented, unafraid of authority, exposing social problems, and speaking out for the vulnerable.

The entire society's spotlight was on him, and countless eyes were watching his every move.

In this situation, what would happen if his first comic was published through connections and backdoors, and was discovered by someone with ulterior motives?

He used his power to oppress people and took over the serialization slots that originally belonged to newcomers. What's the difference between him and the people he satirized in his novels?

He keeps saying he wants to change society, but he's unwilling to even follow the most basic rules of the comic book industry?

It turns out that Teacher Guan Gu is also a hypocritical adult.

As for spending his own money to print and sell individual volumes? Not to mention that the total cost would be a considerable expense, more importantly, he simply doesn't understand it.

Printing plant, paper specifications, distributors, distribution... going through this whole process is enough to drain his writing time, which is putting the cart before the horse.

The editorial department has mature publicity and distribution resources and a complete plan for publishing single volumes. It would be foolish not to take advantage of such a good deal, so there's no need for him to waste his energy on this kind of thing.

But the prerequisite is that he has to rely on himself to cross that threshold.

Therefore, the path before him is clear: he needs to independently complete a short comic of sufficient weight to participate in the newcomer award selection and win at least a "good work" award.

He needs to prove with his abilities that he, Guan Gufeng, is not someone who relies on connections to make a living. Only after proving this can he consider continuing the series.

But the question is, what should we draw?

He had countless comics in his mind, from the traditional, action-packed "Naruto" to the unconventional "One-Punch Man".

If all else fails, let's do something really outrageous, like "Jujutsu Kaisen".

He couldn't help but hum as he imagined the expressions readers would have on Satoru 2.5's face.

However, these are all serialized works, which require a lot of energy. For now, I still need to focus on writing books.

Just as he was struggling with this dilemma, the phone next to him suddenly rang.

"Hello, I am Guan Gufeng."

"Is it convenient for you, Mr. Guan Gu?" Miyazaki Hayao's cheerful voice came from the other end of the phone. "If it's convenient, come over for a sound check."