In some bedroom.
The ground is scattered with chips and seeds.
Cola spilled, soaking the floor.
The scene is a complete mess.
Lancet's hair was disheveled, his eyes scattered, his expression blank and confused.
Dead.
All of them, dead.
All the upright characters under his pen were wiped out!
Only two protagonists remained.
The two protagonists were alive, but their hearts were dead.
Just like Lancet the author, he had a complete mental breakdown!
"Chu Kuang, fuck your grandfather!"
With a cry of grief, Lancet erupted!
Old rascal!
Do you have a grudge against the characters that I create?
Whoever the audience likes, you kill off!?
I, Lancet, swear to the heavens!
You will never be allowed to adapt my novels again in your lifetime!
I will write it into the contract!
Any company can buy my copyright in the future!
As long as you, Chu Kuang, are not the one adapting it, anyone can!
Even if it's adapted into a pile of crap, I'll accept it!
I can't take it anymore!