I asked you to write a light novel, but you wrote about living?

Just as the entire comment section was in a collective frenzy due to the speculation of "the return of the God of War" and the screen was filled with enthusiastic bullet comments about "100,000 soldiers gathering", there were a few comments that seemed out of place, like ice cubes thrown into boiling water, stubbornly remaining clear-headed.

In this cyberpunk era, where big models and formulaic plot twists have brainwashed readers, there are still a few readers who retain a keen sense of the quality of language and a pursuit of narrative logic.

The user ID 【Cloud Above the Wind】, who had previously left a high score, posted a short, somewhat helpless comment amidst the commotion:

"Is your brain-computer interface short-circuited? The God of War has returned? Go and take a closer look at the author's description of Fugui being conscripted!"

He was struck on the back with the butt of a gun, writhing on the ground in pain; he watched as the loose silver he had brought was stolen, crying like a coward without any dignity; his mind was filled only with his sick mother and his wife and children at home, he had no thought whatsoever of fighting back.

This raw, earthy realism, so gritty it makes your teeth ache, couldn't possibly be just setting the stage for a wish-fulfillment story! This isn't about building a legacy; it's like being forced into a meat grinder! Wake up! What kind of war god cries for his mother in the mud?

Another bookworm with 7200 hours of reading experience who had previously given a rational endorsement to "To Live" also followed up with a calm and objective long review to refute it:

"I advise everyone not to have unrealistic fantasies about what will happen next."

From the perspective of narrative logic and structural consistency, the tone of this book was set from the preface. The author spent a full 30,000 words, using a meticulous style that is almost like plain description, to depict how an ordinary person from the lower class falls step by step and struggles to survive in the daily suffering.

In this oppressive atmosphere of realism, forcibly inserting a 'system of awakening' or a 'god of war' plot would not only be a logical disaster, but would also destroy all the groundwork laid beforehand.

The core of this work requires that every action of the characters must conform to the level of intelligence and objective laws of normal human beings. There is no halo of intellectual derangement, nor any divine intervention; Fugui cannot possibly wreak havoc on the battlefield. His greatest victory is probably simply 'survival.'

Another reader, named "The Night Watchman of the Used Bookstore," left only a short, cold message:

"The book is called 'Living,' not 'Conquering.' In this story, just being able to breathe requires all your strength."

These few comments, which conveyed reason and attempted to bring the enthusiastic readers back to reality, were like the long howls of lone wolves in the wilderness.

However, these attempts to extinguish the illusion of euphoria did not cause much of a stir.

In that turbulent cyber comment section, the comments of these rational voices were quickly drowned out by hundreds and thousands of bullet comments such as "[Fugui Charges On]" and "[The God of War Returns to Slap in the Face]".

Occasionally, a few die-hard fans would see this and retort without hesitation:

[Why pretend to be a rational observer? What kind of online novel is it if it doesn't feature characters who are constantly contradicted? Are they really going to send the protagonist to be cannon fodder for years and come back crippled? Who would read that? Unless the author is completely stupid, they'll definitely write it exactly as predicted by the author, Mingming Ruyue!]

Seeing these unyielding replies, the rational readers could only shake their heads helplessly and close the comment section.

Instead of trying to persuade the masses who had become accustomed to AI's tricks, they turned their attention back to the 30,000-word main text and quietly set the book's update priority to the highest level.

They vaguely sensed that in the year 2077, a time dominated by fast-food literature, they were witnessing a work that could truly tear apart the hypocrisy of this era, a work with rigorous logic and profound texture, slowly taking root and sprouting on this wasteland.

Because of the fervent imagination surrounding the "return of the God of War," the fervor in the comments section directly translated into the most direct data-driven purchasing power.

In this cyber age dominated by dopamine algorithms, readers express their expectations in a very simple and direct way—by throwing votes.

Countless readers, immersed in the dream of "three years of forbearance, the Dragon King returns to the throne," were spamming "Welcome back the God of War Fugui" in their comments while generously casting their free recommendation votes, and even their precious "Spark Cup" exclusive competition tickets, for this novel, which they considered a "god-level novel that builds suspense before revealing its true nature."

[I'm voting for the day when the Old Madam recovers and Long Er begs for forgiveness!]

[Listen up, author! I've slammed the votes on you. If you don't write about him awakening his powers amidst a pile of corpses and slaughtering everyone by tomorrow, I'll go down the internet cable and rip your cybernetic implants off!]

Amidst this noisy and comical revelry, the mysterious blank account [Raven and Writing Table], which didn't even have an avatar, quietly went online once again.

Faced with a screen full of chaotic claims about "100,000 soldiers gathering," he remained silent, neither joining the discussion nor offering any mockery of those absurd predictions.

He seemed to understand the true tone of the book better than anyone else, and was more captivated by its cold, rough, and uncompromising textual texture than anyone else.

He didn't say a single word; his only action was to decisively open the tipping interface.

"Buzz—"

On Weiguang Literature's public channel, a dazzling golden banner flashed once again.

[System notification: User "Raven and Writing Table" has gifted the game "Living" with the highest-level virtual gift—Starfire!]

Another top-tier donation of 1,000 Star Coins!

Accompanied by the spectacular effect of the virtual star exploding in the sky above the work's homepage, this mysterious and wealthy reader also casually cleared out all the massive number of competition tickets in his account, which represented high-level VIP status, and dumped them all into the voting box for "Living".

There were no comments, no requests for updates, and no bossy comments about the plot.

This silent yet blatant act of spending money reveals a kind of favoritism: "I understand your writing, so I'm paying for it."

……

Weiguang Literature Headquarters, Deep Data Monitoring Center.

The massive holographic leaderboard of the Spark Cup was originally a data mountain with strict hierarchies that was difficult to overcome.

For works at the bottom to climb up the ladder, they need massive exposure and a large amount of AI computing power.

Despite some readers who were immersed in the dream of "the return of the God of War" and were enthusiastically throwing money at the book, coupled with the top reward of 1,000 star coins from [Raven and Writing Table], the data line of "Living" showed a steep peak in a short period of time.

But this brief period of boiling did not change the harsh reality that it was still struggling in the mud.

It must be acknowledged that in this cyber age, which has been fed AI industrial saccharin for decades, readers' reading habits have long been solidified.

The number of people willing to endure discomfort and read texts deemed "depressing and depressing" is extremely small.

Even if veteran bookworms desperately try to brainwash readers in the comments section with the promise of "more exciting moments to come," the vast majority of ordinary readers, accustomed to the "golden three-second rule," are immediately deterred by this dull, dopamine-free experience when they see the father fall into a cesspool, the protagonist go bankrupt and have to farm, or even be captured and used as cannon fodder. They promptly remove the book from their shelves and run away.

Readers who enjoy "poison" or can tolerate this kind of raw realism are ultimately a minority of outliers in this world.

Therefore, even if the remaining small group of people unleashed astonishing spending power and voting enthusiasm, this amount of wild traffic is still insignificant in the face of the vast ocean of works in the Spark Cup, which is built up by capital and computing power, often numbering in the tens of millions.

On the huge holographic ranking list at the headquarters of Weiguang Literature, the ranking of "To Live" flickered a few times.

Starting from 14285th place, it struggled to climb upwards, eventually stopping at around 14210th place.

It only improved by a few dozen places.

It remains at the bottom of the massive list, a bottom-tier work that can't even get a spot on the very edge of the recommendation list.

The distance between them and being truly captured by the public eye is separated by a wall of sighs made up of countless AI-generated wish-fulfillment novels.