Just because I wrote "Zhu Xian," the school beauty sent me razor blades.

[Brain Storage (This is a novel for relaxation and enjoyment. If you're not too serious, please scroll past immediately; this book isn't for you.) Finally, I hope you enjoy reading.]

"Buzz—"

The old fan whirred overhead, mingling with the incessant chirping of cicadas outside the window.

A sharp sound seemed to still echo deep within his eardrums. Lin Yuan suddenly opened his eyes and was met with an unfamiliar ceiling.

My heart was pounding so hard I was panicking, and my back was covered in cold sweat.

He subconsciously propped himself up, glancing at the dressing mirror by the bedside out of the corner of his eye—a young face was reflected in the mirror.

It wasn't his face.

Before I could think it through, a jumble of memories flooded into my mind uncontrollably, like a floodgate bursting open, pouring in all at once.

The owner of this body was also named Lin Yuan.

At eighteen, he had just been admitted to the Directing Department of Jinghua Film Academy, and his life story seemed quite inspiring.

If we ignore the fact that he played games all night and then passed away in the early hours of the morning.

Lin Yuan himself was lying in a hospital bed just a moment ago, listening to the last long beep from the electrocardiogram monitor.

Unexpectedly, the next second, I opened my eyes and found that the youth version had been sent back to the factory for repairs.

Lin Yuan sat on the edge of the bed, his hands supporting his knees, and it took him a full two minutes to sort out the intertwined memories of his two lifetimes in his mind.

He traveled through time.

He didn't wake up in a dilapidated temple, didn't carry a blood feud, and wasn't immediately pinned to the ground and called a piece of trash the moment he opened his eyes.

This team has a good-looking appearance, a good academic record, and a good family background.

At least it's much more dignified than those predecessors who started by running away, breaking off engagements, or getting beaten up.

Lin Yuan picked up his phone and quickly scrolled through various messages.

He quickly confirmed a fact: this was a parallel world that highly overlapped with Earth.

The landscape, historical process, and cultural customs here are all identical, except for the entertainment industry, which has taken a completely different trajectory.

Simply put, it's backward.

It's ridiculously behind.

The film and television industry is rife with bad movies, with plots that are all about "you can't guess, because the screenwriter didn't even have a good idea"; the music scene is dominated by catchy pop songs, with the line "just because you're too beautiful" popping up on stage all the time; and the online novel world is even more formulaic, with wish-fulfillment stories everywhere, where if the author doesn't deliver a satisfying comeback in three chapters, readers will wonder if the author has gone offline.

And none of the classic works that he remembered as globally popular are here.

"It's an absolutely perfect start. This is pure God's blessing. There's no chance of losing."

Lin Yuan rubbed his temples and couldn't help but chuckle softly.

Just then, a gentle female voice came from outside the door:

"Xiao Yuan, come out for dinner."

Lin Yuan was stunned for a moment, and the corresponding scene automatically surfaced in his memory.

My mother, Jiang Wanqing, is gentle, a good cook, and has a soft voice, but she is extremely persistent when it comes to urging me to eat.

"They're here."

He rolled out of bed and opened the door.

The living room wasn't big, but it was very clean.

Jiang Wanqing was placing a plate of food on the table, her apron still on, a stray hair clinging to her forehead.

"Mom, where's Dad?"

"You went fishing with your Uncle Su first thing in the morning, you're quite something." Jiang Wanqing didn't even look up. "You have the nerve to sleep until this late, it's almost noon."

"I haven't had a good night's sleep in ages," Lin Yuan said, stretching.

"Go wash up quickly, the food is getting cold."

"Okay, okay."

While washing up, Lin Yuan looked up and saw himself in the mirror.

At eighteen years old, he had fair and clean skin, sharp and angular eyes, and a hint of cunning and mischief in his eyes, still retaining a youthful naiveté.

He raised an eyebrow at himself in the mirror and chuckled softly to himself:

"With looks like that, you could easily get by even if you were just a nobody."

"It's a pity that I have to rely on my strength to crush the whole field."

After washing up, Lin Yuan sat down at the dining table and, without any ceremony, picked up his chopsticks and began to eat.

Jiang Wanqing prepared a typical breakfast: hot porridge, fried eggs, stir-fried seasonal vegetables, and a small dish of braised dishes.

It's not particularly exquisite, but it's warm and comforting.

Lin Yuan slept soundly last night, and when he woke up this morning, he had a good appetite. He lowered his head and drank more than half a bowl of porridge, then picked up a few more pieces of vegetables. He ate quickly and quietly.

Seeing him eating with relish, Jiang Wanqing smiled and casually said:

"Su Zhiyuan, the daughter of Uncle Su next door, also got into the Jinghua Film Academy. She's beautiful and has a good personality. You two will be going to the same school, do you want Mom to help you set up?"

Lin Yuan paused for a moment as he picked up some food.

In my memory, a cold and aloof figure emerges.

Su Zhiyuan, the daughter of Uncle Su next door, was a famously cold-faced school beauty in high school. She was aloof and difficult to approach.

Although the two were neighbors, they rarely interacted, at most exchanging a nod when they bumped into each other in the hallway.

It's a classic setup where people "live close but have distant relationships."

"Mom, there's no point in dating compared to building a career." Lin Yuan said casually, appearing remarkably clear-headed. "Besides, with my looks, I'm not worried about finding a partner. My main strategy is to patiently wait for the right person to come along."

Jiang Wanqing was both amused and exasperated by his words, and had no choice but to give up.

This kid is still the same carefree, irresponsible person, always talking nonsense, but his eyes are much brighter than before.

After finishing his meal, Lin Yuan quickly cleaned up the dishes and rushed back to his bedroom.

After closing the door, Lin Yuan's casual smile faded slightly.

He sat down at his desk, tapping his fingers absently on the surface, and began to take stock of the current entertainment industry.

The film and television industry has the highest potential, but also the highest barriers to entry.

You need money, a team, connections, and the ability to tolerate a client's sudden flash of inspiration.

He has nothing now, and rushing into the game is basically like a newbie village trying to challenge the final boss with nothing but bare armor.

The same applies to the music industry.

Arranging, recording, and promotion—everything costs a fortune.

Without resources, channels, or capital, even the best writing may be buried in a corner, unable to even get an autoplay.

Only online literature.

Zero cost, zero barriers to entry.

All you need is a computer and a brain to get started.

It's quick to monetize, has a wide audience, and can even bring classic works from the past to this cultural and entertainment wasteland.

It's practically a beginner's guide tailor-made for him.

What's even more interesting is that the online literature market in this world is ridiculously barren.

The entire site is filled with stories of underdogs achieving success against all odds, system check-ins, and mindless crushing victories.

The protagonist reached Foundation Establishment at age three, Nascent Soul at age five, and at age seven, he punched and destroyed the sect's patriarch. By age ten, he was already complaining that the Heavenly Dao was unreasonable.

Readers have been fed assembly-line fast-food articles for years and are already aesthetically fatigued; they just have no other choice.

Just like someone who has been eating instant noodles for three months straight, they might say they're used to it, but deep down they're already starting to miss the Manchu Han Imperial Feast.

What this dull market lacks most are heartfelt, profound, poignant, and warm masterpieces.

Lin Yuan closed his eyes, and his reading memories from his past life surged back, crystal clear.

In his youth, he would stay up all night reading "Zhu Xian" in his cramped rented room.

When he saw Biyao block the Zhuxian Sword, he fell silent, feeling as if his heart had been squeezed tightly.

After watching the ending, I felt deeply unsatisfied for a long time.

The feeling is like the author handing you a bowl of hot soup, only to find a whole packet of razor blades soaking in it after you've drunk half of it.

Back then, netizens across the internet collectively broke down.

Some people felt sorry for Zhang Xiaofan's helplessness, some shed tears for Lu Xueqi's lifelong devotion, and some, while cursing the author for being inhuman, stayed up all night reading the extra chapters three times.

This is a classic.

It causes pain, it makes people curse, and it makes people want to click on it again and torture themselves years later.

The cultivation novels in this world only know how to kill, seize treasures, and defy the heavens to level up.

The protagonist is on a winning streak, villains line up to deliver themselves to him, beautiful women automatically throw themselves at him, and the main job of the sect elders is to be shocked.

"This child is terrifyingly powerful!"

"They must not be allowed to live!"

And then the next chapter really couldn't be kept.

The book is full of utilitarian and gratifying sentiments, but no one writes about the impermanence of fate, human attachments, and the suffering of all beings.

The blood-soaked shackles of Caomiao Village, the helplessness of blurring the lines between good and evil, the regret of unfulfilled desires—these are the things that truly pierce the soul, yet the readers here have never experienced even a fraction of them.

They're used to the mindless thrill of having an easy time.

But they have no idea that true classics begin with a smile, move you to tears, and become more and more captivating with each reading.

Lin Yuan opened his eyes, a wicked smile curling at the corner of his lips.

The sense of cunning and ruthlessness is off the charts.

"In my past life, 'Zhu Xian' tormented me a thousand times; in this life, I'll use it to torment readers across the entire internet."

"Hehehe, the boring world of online novels needs some real grievances to cleanse our eyes."

Without the slightest hesitation, his debut work was immediately decided: "Zhu Xian".

Lin Yuan opened his browser, quickly searched for mainstream online literature platforms, and compared them layer by layer.

After comparing several options, Hongqiezi Literature Network's newcomer policy is the most conscientious.

The new book rankings are based purely on data, without considering seniority or favoring established authors.

Even outstanding works by newcomers can get featured on the homepage, making it the best springboard for grassroots success.

In one sentence:

As long as your work is good enough, we'll give you traffic.

Visit the official website and register an author account with one click.

When it came time to fill in his pseudonym, he glanced at the various fake IDs on the site.

The names like "Chen Dongdong," "Tang Jiashan Shao," "Tianchang Tudou," and "the ear next to the ear root" are so offensive they hurt my eyes.

Lin Yuan was immediately seized by a playful impulse.

As the fingertip touched the paper, six characters appeared:

Old scoundrel of Mount Akina.

Lin Yuan looked at the ID on the screen and chuckled to himself.

This name doesn't sound like that of a respectable person.

He chose to use this ID to write the gentlest, most heart-wrenching, and most noble Xianxia stories.

The contrast is immediately striking.

Even passersby can't help but click to take a look:

"I'd like to see what kind of nonsense this old scoundrel can come up with."

The secret to traffic flow, here it is!

Quickly complete real-name authentication and mobile phone binding, create a new work, select the Xianxia (fantasy/martial arts) category, and choose a concise and powerful title:

"Zhu Xian"

Everything is ready.

In the blank document, the cursor blinked silently.

Lin Yuan stared at the screen for a moment, and the hint of cynicism on his lips slowly faded away.

Those words, etched into our very bones and accompanying us throughout our youth, are finally about to shine anew in this blank world of entertainment.

Fingertips fall.

The sound of keyboards clicking filled the room.

The first line of text appeared on the screen.

Heaven and earth are ruthless, treating all things like straw dogs!

The vast land of China is boundless. Only the Central Plains are truly fertile, nurturing countless beings since ancient times. Countless have sought immortality and the path to eternal life…