In the comprehensive bookstore deep in her mind, Ding Yun's spiritual power swept across it, feeling a sense of dizziness.
The sheer volume was overwhelming.
The bookshelves in the bookstore, reaching upwards, touched the heavens, their tops unseen. To the front, back, left, and right, they stretched boundlessly, like a bewildering sea of books that inspired awe.
This was no ordinary sea of books.
It was a sea of stars, a cosmic ocean.
The sheer quantity was too vast; even immeasurable and countless grains of sand might fall short of encompassing its number.
Fortunately, there was a display screen in the center of the bookstore.
All books were cataloged, with broad categories, subcategories, keywords, and even classifications of work quality: "Eternal Classics," "Centennial Tales," "Popular for a While," and "Time Killers."
If a work couldn't even qualify as a "Time Killer,"
Then it clearly had no right to be selected.
Looking at the nearly uncountable number in the "Total Books" column on the display screen before her, Ding Yun was momentarily at a loss for how to choose. She opted for a more conservative approach, selecting the "Wuxia" broad category. When narrowing it down, she first temporarily excluded the largest quantity of books, those rated "Time Killers." Then, she continuously added keywords for further refinement.
After a long period of such detailed filtering,
Only ten thousand books remained that fit Ding Yun's criteria.
"Eternal Classics and Centennial Tales don't quite suit my current age. It might be better to publish them when I'm older. Publishing them now could lead to controversy, so I'll temporarily exclude these two ratings as well.
Let's look at the summaries for the rest.
I need to pick something I'm interested in."
As Ding Yun finalized her thoughts, the ten thousand remaining books rapidly decreased again. "Eternal Classics" alone was reduced by over sixty titles, and "Centennial Tales" by over three thousand. The remaining quantity was still substantial.
At this point, further refinement was impossible.
The remaining books were largely homogeneous in their core content. This meant that while titles and protagonists might differ, the fundamental narratives were quite similar.
They all featured earnest protagonists with a strong sense of national righteousness.
They all presented intertwined themes of national hatred and personal vendettas.
Ding Yun then primarily focused on the summaries and chapter titles to gauge her interest. If interested, she would then read the first few chapters. In the end, she didn't read many, casually selecting two books.
Upon selection, two semi-illusory physical books flew out from the boundless bookshelf sea and landed beside the virtual screen. Simultaneously, the virtual screen displayed that Ding Yun could purchase either physical copies or electronic versions. She could also choose to write her own name as the author, or keep it unchanged, the latter doubling the price.
And the books were not cheap.
They required thousands of merit points, tens of origin coins, or tens of thousands of popularity points. Furthermore, there was no beginner's bonus. Ding Yun, at this moment, clearly had no popularity points and had to purchase them herself.
Additionally, the payment Ding Yun made for the books.
Whether it was merit, luck, popularity, or anything else.
After the system's commission, it would be given to the universe that sold the copyrights and transfer rights of these books. As long as the author's soul hadn't completely dissipated, no matter how many reincarnations they underwent, that copyright-transferring universe would again take a commission and allocate a portion to strengthen the author's origin.
Thus, overall, the pricing was considered reasonable.
Seeing this, Ding Yun pondered for a moment, then put the two books back. She re-filtered, keeping only the three thousand-plus books from the "Centennial Tales" category.
And from those three thousand-plus, she selected one.
She purchased the electronic version at the original price.
Ding Yun's initial plan was to prioritize quantity in the early stages and quality later. However, seeing the exorbitant prices, she had a change of heart and decided to focus on quality. "Eternal Classics" were indeed unsuitable for her age, but "Centennial Tales" were still achievable. After all, weren't there geniuses in this world?
If there were prodigies in science, why not in literature? Besides, she wasn't exactly a child anymore.
Rather than publishing dozens of "Popular for a While" novels that would be forgotten in a couple of years, it was better to spend more and directly produce a "Centennial Tale," which could be worth dozens of others.
And what Ding Yun bought this time.
Was a "Centennial Tale" from a wuxia world, which could hardly be called a novel, but rather a historical record.
"A Hundred Years of Jianghu History in Jingkang"
However, it was written in the style of a novel.
Other aspects might not be exceptionally outstanding, but at least it excelled in its authenticity. The content involved was what had truly happened in that world. Even fragments of basic martial arts knowledge and secret manuals were real, a significant advantage over many similar wuxia novels that were purely fictional and imaginative.
If not for the relatively disjointed narrative structure,
And the absence of a central protagonist throughout.
Its rating might have been even higher.
However, these shortcomings were irrelevant to Ding Yun, as she could rectify them. Because this book chronicled a hundred years of history, spanning a vast length and featuring different protagonists from various eras, it felt like it lacked a central character to anchor it.
But with a little organization and revision, by separating the protagonists of different eras and creating a trilogy, a quintology, or similar series, wouldn't this problem be perfectly solved?
A protagonist every twenty years was normal and reasonable.
The former generation perishing on the beach was also quite reasonable.
Therefore, after purchasing the electronic copyright of this novel and transferring it to her desktop computer, Ding Yun first read it. Without a thorough reading from beginning to end, how could she know how to revise it?
And how to localize it?
...
While Ding Yun continued to stay in her room, mostly reading novels and rarely going out, her parents, Xu Hui and Li Qinghua, had returned from seeking advice from teachers and began to discipline their son, Li Dedong.
This phrasing isn't entirely accurate.
To be precise, it should be described as a battle of wits and courage.
Xu Hui and her husband had just set a rule that Li Dedong must go to bed by eleven o'clock, and the power would be cut off then. Immediately after, Li Dedong bought over a dozen large-capacity power banks, wireless network cards, and other essentials, enough for him to play games until the early hours.
When Xu Hui and her husband restricted Li Dedong's spending,
Li Dedong would call his grandparents for money.
Finally, when Li Qinghua and Xu Hui could no longer tolerate it and were preparing to resort to physical force to resolve the issue, Li Dedong, having anticipated this, packed his bags and fled preemptively, claiming he missed his grandparents.
This almost drove Li Qinghua and his wife to their deathbeds.
In the end, they resorted to a harsh tactic, hiring hackers to try and break into and steal all his game accounts. Then, they deliberately violated the rules in every way possible, causing all his online game accounts to be permanently banned for over a hundred years due to violations, before they finally ceased their efforts.
Truly a case of great compassion and painstaking effort.