Emica Kana is 18 years old. She has always loved writing stories., They were her escape from reality. She always wished that a man would come and save her like they always do in the stories.
Well, she got her wish.
Emica entered a small writing school that was near a river. Her friend had joined her. But, the teacher had an odd vibe around him. Emica became a little scared of him. She especially became scared when the teacher started to pay more attention to her. One day, when she runs from him, she falls into a world of adventure, risk, and abnormalities. 
But, her teacher is what scares her more than this new world. What secrets and schemes did he use to get her here?

365 days, 365 scenes.
Battles among supreme beings.
Poems about losing love.
Dragons showing mercy.
Kids stumbling upon magic.

This journey involves my answering of 365 creative writing prompts in a desperate bid to overcome my laziness.
The prompts come from https://thinkwritten.com/365-creative-writing-prompts/ and I write one a day.

THE SITUATION RIGHT NOW: I've gotten over the majority of my laziness. I'm unlikely to update this much. It's pretty much complete. The novel I'm working on is Dark Seas Leading Demise

After handing the planning of the coming-of-age ceremony theme to Si Yiyan, Wen Xinya didn't bother with it anymore. She believed that Si Yiyan would definitely come up with a theme that satisfied her.
After school reopened, the stress from studies suddenly intensified. Only then did Wen Xinya feel the pressure of the upcoming final examinations. Ning Shuqian and Wen Haowen had moved back to the Wen Family for some time. Due to her studies, Wen Xinya intentionally avoided them. As both parties didn't meet, things were peaceful.
After school, Wen Xinya went to the Zhong Family. Since the new year, it had been very long since she went to visit Grandfather Zhong.
Upon seeing Wen Xinya, Old Mr. Zhong was elated and pulled Wen Xinya to the study room, wanting to assess her calligraphy.
Wen Xinya prepared the calligraphy paper accordingly, held the calligraphy brush, dipped it in ink, waved the brush, and wrote down the characters for "Virtue" and "Integrity".
As Old Mr. Zhong saw the little girl's upright backbone radiating a burning aura and her gorgeous eyes which subdued her sharpness and toughness, he couldn't help but stroke his beard and nod.
Wen Xinya passed the completed calligraphy characters to Grandfather Zhong. "Look, Grandfather Zhong. Did I improve recently?"
Old Mr. Zhong received the characters and couldn't help but nod and say, "Good, good, good! Sharpness in check, uprightness fully displayed, proportionate, and harmonized—harmony beats sharpness. Seems like vertical writing suits you very well—with greater arm strength, the wrist naturally relaxes, thus resulting in characters with quiet sharpness."
It was indeed extraordinary to have such an accomplishment within merely three years. This granddaughter of Old Mr. Mo was indeed somebody.
Wen Xinya couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief as a smile appeared on her gorgeous face. "Grandfather Zhong has taught me well."
Old Mr. Zhong broke into a smile and said, "Little girl, save your flattery. There's a saying that teaching a disciple well starves the master—now that you've learned all that I know, seems like it's a hassle to even visit this old man!" 
Wen Xinya was speechless and was about to explain.
"Grandpa, are you senile? Did you forget that Xinya is facing her final examinations this school term? With her heavy academic load, she has got to even sacrifice her sleep for revision—how can she find time to visit you? The fact that her calligraphy skills can still improve rapidly amidst her strenuous studies already didn't let your reputation down." Zhong Rufeng's voice, clear as water, seemingly drifted in gently with the wind, bringing with it the warmth of the start of spring, rang gradually. 
Wen Xinya looked up and over at him. He was wearing a white shirt and standing gorgeously tall. Like the green bamboo beneath the snow, he radiated a shiny and beautiful aura, like a viburnum tree, he had a classy disposition, and, like nephrite jade, he emitted a mild charm.
Old Mr. Zhong glared at Zhong Rufeng, then his gaze skimmed past Wen Xinya in a hazy manner, his eyes glowing with a smile for some reason. "Everyone says that daughters side with outsiders. Seems like this grandson of mine is even worse than a daughter."
Wen Xinya felt slightly embarrassed, yet totally wasn't able to interrupt, only feeling slightly unnatural in her heart due to Grandfather Zhong's words.
"I'm speaking the truth straightforwardly. Recently, Xinya has even stopped the chess, calligraphy, and music practice over at Old Mr. Mo's." Zhong Rufeng's expression didn't change. Merely this… Grandpa had already teased him countless times privately and he had already been trained to be durable and unmoving.
Old Mr. Zhong was speechless as he waved towards Zhong Rufeng and said, "Go, go, go—you young people go play aside. I won't fool around with you guys."
Actually, he was creating an opportunity for his eldest grandson.
He knew the thoughts in his eldest grandson's mind. However… the other party was Xinya, and he was happy to help.
Seeing that Zhong Rufeng didn't look shocked with an unchanged expression, the bit of uneasiness in Wen Xinya's heart diminished. If a guy as open and generous as Zhong Rufeng could take it in his stride, there was no need for her to be petty. 
Zhong Rufeng brought her for a stroll at the courtyard. Pear blossoms blooming confidently and elegantly filled the courtyard, yet they were of no match for her gorgeous and charming demeanor. "The countdown for the final examinations is about to start. Have your studies and revision been progressing well?" 
"Manageable. Just that the never-ending practice questions and information makes one feel vexed." Wen Xinya stood below a clean and frosty pear blossom tree filled with numerous flower buds, looking refreshing on top of her head.
In Zhong Rufeng's heart, a clean pear blossom seemed to have blossomed elegantly. "It's the hell season of the final examinations said to trim 5kg off anyone. Pick some key practice questions to attempt and skim through the other fringe topics with slight understanding will do. The revision method is still the most important."
Wen Xinya nodded and said, "My studies are mainly on the teachers' lectures and the focus of my revision on the notes that you've tidied for me. Thus, it's not really tough."
She had always been intelligent and independent, and naturally didn't need his elaboration regarding studies. Zhong Rufeng changed the topic and asked, "Have you thought about which university to enroll in?"
Wen Xinya's gaze was clear and even more gorgeous than the pear blossoms. "I want to enroll in the Fashion Design course of the Capital University, majoring in Jewelry Design."
The design course of the Capital University was reputable worldwide. The romantic thoughts, innovative spirits, and creative abilities characteristic of the citizens of Country Z contributed to the success of the design course of the Capital University. This caused this institute which had merely existed for fifty-odd years to be at the top of the vortex in the world and be highly sought after by conscientious students who were passionate about their ambitions.
"The design course of the Capital University requires the result of at least 650 points at the final examinations for enrollment. Based on your current results, there shouldn't be a problem if you perform similarly at the final examinations." Zhong Rufeng looked at the girl before him who looked like a pear blossom in fine bloom—cool and confident in her demeanor and peerlessly gorgeous in her looks. He recalled that at the Wen Corporation's New Year Celebration previously, she had expressed such thoughts while facing the reporters."
However, Wen Xinya spoke prudently. "I'm determined to get into the Capital University. Thus, I'll have to continue to work hard."
Zhong Rufeng had gotten into the Beihua University. This institute was said to be the breeding ground of Country Z's politicians and was sought after by almost everyone.
However, Zhong Rufeng was very confident in her. Yet, he felt slightly disappointed. "A pity that we can't attend the same university."
He suddenly thought of Chu Jingnan—he seemed to have precisely gotten into the business management course of the Capital University.
Thinking of Chu Jingnan's totally unconcealed interest and possessiveness towards Xinya, his gaze deepened. He didn't forget Xinya's gaze when she saw Chu Jingnan—filled with all sorts of complex struggles that seemingly couldn't differentiate between logic and chaos—the day when she just reported to the Lan Feng Institute.
What was slightly comforting to him was that Xinya had instead always been cold and distant towards Chu Jingnan these two years. However, this made her thoughts even more perplexing to him.
Regarding this, Wen Xinya also felt slightly disappointed. "The Capital University is just a street away from the Beihua University, not far away at all. When the time comes, it'll be more convenient for us to interact."
Her expression was as cold as a pear blossom, with the chill of early spring. Zhong Rufeng nodded and didn't pursue the topic. "Your eighteenth birthday is coming up soon. What are your arrangements?"
Ning Shuqian's pregnancy had dealt a considerable blow to her. Her eighteenth birthday arrangements would indirectly demonstrate the Wen Family's attitude towards her after Ning Shuqian's pregnancy.
Wen Xinya naturally knew what he meant. A smile appeared on her face. "Grandpa says to organize a coming-of-age ceremony. It's already been handed to the Soaring Public Relations company for preparations."
"That's good. You've already returned to the Wen Family for three years and haven't organized a grand birthday party. This time, the party has to be grand and luxurious no matter what—only then will it highlight your status as the eldest daughter of the Wen Family." Zhong Rufeng couldn't help but heave a sigh of relief, feeling truly happy for Wen Xinya. While others might not know the hard work that she had put in after returning to the Wen Family, he knew everything very well. Luckily, although the Wen Family was materialistic, they weren't really muddle-headed.


Originally born from a wealthy family, she ends up leading a vagrant life for fifteen years. However, when she is eventually found by her family, she falls into another devious plot and eventually dies tragically. 

Fifteen years after her rebirth, ravenously raging for revenge, she tears down the hypocritical mask of the foster daughter who had taken her place, and reduces her greedy stepmother and stepsister back to their original sorry states. 

To the jerk's profession of his deep love for her, she only has one thing to say, "Get the hell out of my life. The love you speak of humiliates love!" 

Regardless of the appearances of you monsters, I’ll take in it my stride with my capability, building a business dynasty of my own, sitting in the depths of my riches, bathing in the glistening limelight of the world. 

A certain rich empire's CEO: "Don't mind me. I'm just leaving my mark here to declaring my possession rights; I’ll wait patiently for you to grow up!" The queen's mighty return with commercial warfare fully within her grasp, she navigates the power struggles with skill and verve. When it comes to scheming conspiracies, all she has to say is, "Who are you again? Don’t even bother!"

The commotion of the new semester turned into a ruckus after a few days, which had then turned into chaos in the span of the first month. That is to say, nothing had changed at all during this entire month. Being in charge of first graders on her third year as a teacher proved to be a challenge for Hee Yeon Kim, but for reasons she could only describe as &quot;complicated,&quot; she had been forced into this difficult task. To say that her experience was lacking was a gross understatement, and it was near impossible for her to manage the ruckus that the first graders were creating. As such, it became somewhat of a routine for the teachers of adjacent classrooms to intervene and suppress(?)* the children of Class 1-3. Perhaps it was thanks to that, or perhaps the children had simply grown accustomed to school after a month, but they had reached the point where they would calm down just enough for class to start. Hee Yeon had to settle for that. Nonetheless, as soon as breaktime started, the children would resume their chaotic commotion, filling the halls with their voices as Hee Yeon sat next to the window, her head in her hands in an attempt to withstand it all.

'If only they had gym class all morning long…'

But if that were the case, then she would have to be on guard, looking out for potential injuries, which would then cause even more of a psychological strain on her. In her current state of mind, however, she wished for nothing more than to escape from all the noise. When she looked up towards the classroom again, she realized that she had to say something.
&quot;Jihoon, you can't stand on the desk. You'll get hurt!&quot; She warned in her strictest tone. &quot;Heejin, don't get so close to the window! Get down from there! There, in the back! Stop running! What if you fall over?!&quot;
Even in the midst of all the chaos, she couldn't help but notice one of her students sitting quietly, in the middle of the row next to the windows. He had become the talk of the school due to his good looks, and he was the one exception in this classroom of constant cacophony. The boy was always reading. He mainly read textbooks, but sometimes would bring in children's tales from somewhere and read those. During class he would always look at her with bright eyes, listening so intently to what she said that she felt almost awkward under the pressure, but it was thanks to him that she felt proud and satisfied to be a teacher. After all, there wasn't a teacher alive who disliked diligent students.

The boy paid no mind to his teacher's rather open observation of him and just kept on reading. He was quite happy with his current lifestyle. The classes taught him new things every day, satisfying his intellectual curiosity, and every day, the knowledge he gained from his textbooks surprised him. Reading and reaching an understanding of the material in the textbooks, regardless of the curriculum, filled the boy with an almost euphoric kind of joy. This was especially true for afterschool math class, which made him feel jittery. He derived an immense sort of satisfaction with every problem he solved correctly, and as his knowledge increased, he almost felt as if he could organize his thoughts concerning his confusing circumstances.

Just as the boy was about to immerse himself in the joy of studying, someone tapped his shoulders. When he turned around, he saw that it was Jihoon. Though only a month had passed since the start of the new semester, Jihoon already stood out from the rest of the class. To put it nicely, he was a very lively child, but in reality, he was closer to a menace. He could not bring himself to sit quietly during lessons, sprinting out of the classroom to go to the restroom (and if the teacher chased after him, he would always run away with a huge smile on his face, as if he was enjoying a game of tag), and during break time, he would jump from desk to desk, like an action maniac who delighted in the thrill and excitement of dangerous activities. He was also very creative, always coming up with new ways to make the girl who sat next to him cry. All this caused the other kids to practically line up to join Jihoon in his &quot;games,&quot; and he had become infamous within the parents' SNS chatrooms. However, being the only son of a prominent family, no one could really touch him, only increasing the frustration of the victims'(?) parents and homeroom teacher.
This same Jihoon had just approached the boy, apparently nominating(?) him as the next victim, but the boy simply looked at him wide-eyed as if he didn't know what was happening. Jihoon had his back to the group of students who followed him and looked down at him. &quot;They say you look like a plaster cast,&quot; he declared arrogantly. What did that even mean? &quot;My mom saw my sister's drawing and she said it looked like you. That's what a plaster cast is. You're plaster.&quot;

The boy went blank at Jihoon's words, confused at the utter lack of context.

Jihoon was actually referring to a bit of a hot topic among parents for a brief period of time. During the entrance ceremony, the parents had discussed the boy's outstanding looks, and someone had mentioned that he looked &quot;statuesque.&quot; Following this comment, the parents of a student preparing for art school had brought up &quot;Julian,&quot; one of the plaster cast busts used as a drawing model. Of course, parents quickly fell into a typical SNS conversation, adding that their own children were just as pretty, or whose children had better looks, but it appeared that their talks of plaster casts had reached Jihoon's ears. However, being completely unaware of this whole situation, the boy sat there dumbfounded.

&quot;He's plaster face now.&quot; Said Jihoon again, almost triumphantly. At these short, nonsensical words, the students began to clap and laugh uncontrollably. Perhaps the boy's blank expression and reaction had somehow struck them as funny. Following this relatively small incident, the boy had gained the nickname &quot;plaster face,&quot; and when Myeong-su, who was in the classroom next door, found out about this, it became his nickname at the institute as well. When the teacher heard of this, she thought it was rather cute, but she was also concerned that the boy's feelings were hurt by the nickname. It wasn't uncommon for children to feel upset at nicknames they did not like and lose their spirits.

However, the boy paid no mind to it, partly because he wasn't sure whether &quot;plaster face&quot; had enough of a negative connotation to feel upset over it, and partly because he thought it was better than what they had called him back at the peasant town. They had taken to calling him &quot;scrofa**&quot; due to the fact that he scavenged in the forest all day, or just &quot;boar.&quot; Rather than being compared to a pig, covered in mud and oinking all around the place, he preferred being compared to plaster.

****

With the approach of summer, the weather had reached the point where the impatient few had already begun to wear short sleeves outside. Volunteer workers still visited the institute every so often, now that the tough weeds sprouting through the lawn of the yard had grown enough to injure to the children. Though they were promptly eradicated by the volunteers, the teachers still had to warn the children to not go into the grass.

&quot;We'll be off!&quot;

The elementary schoolers shouted out as they got off the institute's van, cheerfully waving to the teacher sitting in the driver's seat. Among the children walking to the gates of the elementary school were the two first graders, Myeong-su and the boy, one third grader, one fifth grader, and two sixth graders. The sixth graders were very composed within and without the boundaries of the institute, and the third and fifth graders followed their every step. True to his status as a carefree, energetic first grader, however, Myeong-su ran into the school grounds, dragging the boy by the hand. The older children did nothing to stop them. Rather, they looked wholly uninterested, their steps seemingly much heavier than those of other students. But Myeong-su was too excited to pay attention to such things, and he just kept on running with the boy, who ran along like a leashed puppy. Though it looked like the boy was forcing himself to go along with Myeong-su, he was actually having just as much fun. He had recently discovered the existence of the school library and was ecstatic at the thought of feasting upon the mighty(?) collections of books within. The fact that all the children from the institute took the van to get to school meant that the boy always arrived before his classmates. Once in the classroom, he left his bag at his seat and headed straight to the library.

&quot;You're first again.&quot; The librarian had just started to open the library, and the boy greeted her, a gleeful smile on his face. &quot;You can go right ahead.&quot;

Having been granted permission, the boy bowed once again to the librarian, who was making her way towards her desk, and ran into the library. The musty scent of the books that had collected overnight filled his nose, and it almost felt sweet to him. He chose three books to read for that day, all relatively thin. His knowledge and comprehension were still not advanced enough for him tackle thicker books, causing him to always reach for the thinner books, meant for the younger students, without caring for their content. Such books mainly came out in series, so he had made it a habit to just go through the books series by series. Though the boy might have been unaware, children's books were not necessarily limited to just biographies and fairy tales, but also included illustrated classical literature and economics, which were enough to satisfy the boy's thirst for knowledge. Thanks to this, he had been able to catch up on his past seven years of no education and quickly learned about the systems of this world, as well as the social environment he was in.

He was also able to fully concentrate on books because they provided an escape from all the sadness and despair that came from being thrown into a completely new society and lifestyle. Or rather, he had no choice but to fully concentrate on books. His memories of the past still haunted him, no matter how much time passed.

****

Once the teachers' morning meeting ended, Hee Yeon went back into her classroom. Her students, who once seemed like water in hot oil, now felt like powder filling up a lidless blender. Though she had no way of knowing when the blender would turn on and scatter the powder everywhere, things were under control as long as she kept a watchful eye on the switch.
Because classes had not started yet, the switch seemed to be half pressed already, though the students attempted, if only a little, to quiet down when the teacher had walked in. Only Jihoon, apparently still in hot oil rather than the blender, spoke loudly to his friend, while the rest of the students remained in their seats and murmured to each other. The children had no way of knowing that their collective murmurs let to a very loud ruckus. Only one student, called 'plaster face' by the other kids even though he looked more like a 'Julian,' paid no mind to the noise and silently read his book. After almost a full semester of knowing him, Hee Yeon thought that he was possibly in the school's top ranks when it came to concentration and attitude towards learning, and though he hadn't stood out that much at the beginning of the semester, he had started to show great improvement in writing composition and math. When the teacher in charge of the afterschool classes spoke to her about the boy, complimenting him greatly in his skills, Hee Yeon's expectations of him had grown even more. Looking at him now, reading his book, it was hard to imagine that he was from an institute.

Just then, the bell rang out, signaling the start of classes.
&quot;Well then!&quot; Announced Hee Yeon. &quot;We'll begin class. Do you know what's for first period?&quot;
&quot;Family learning!&quot;

Hee Yeon smiled despite herself. The students seemed like small birds all singing together. Then she met eyes with 'Julian.' Though she was unsure when it had started, she definitely felt that family learning classes drained her the most, especially when looking at those eyes, filled with such sorrow. The teacher of three years couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt whenever she met those eyes, and she didn't even know why.

&lt;The New Semester (1)&gt; End

*(?) – this is often used when the word used before it conveys the connotation the author wants, but is not fully accurate. For example, teachers likely helped calm the kids down and maybe reprimand them, but they didn't actually physically suppress the students.
**scrofa – from Latin &quot;scrofa,&quot; it literally means &quot;sow.&quot; Typically used to refer to female pigs used for breeding.

A boy who was living an ordinary life in another world suddenly came to the present world.

Social systems, way of life and morals... They have all changed.

How will the boy try to survive?

What kind of life will the boy live?

"Sir is there any thing I can do for you." 118 responded to Tony after stepping down into the garage after Tony called for him.

"Yeah I need you to take me to the avengers Tower I have something I have to do." Tony explained to 118, while preparing his new portable iron man suit.

"Alright sir if you would step back I'll have our ride prepared." The Spartan commanded with his cold tone making Tony unconsciously stepped back and not a second later a giant vehicle materialized in mid air. 

The vehicle was of course a warthog that was stored along with many other things in a separate space within the spartan.

While a powerful ability it still isn't the gift that was given to him.

The gift has already been acquired in the form of a DNA Sample that was randomly collected  durning one of the many encounters Jackson 118 had with the mutants at exaviers institute.

( hmm how about a teaser remember the kid who could clone himself, yep he tried to pick up this big super soldier durning the small interaction the Spartans gift automatically activated giving him a ability similar to the mutant. )
.....
Tony let out a whistle of being impressed although he did want to know how the heck this beast of a vehicle appeared he refrained from asking so soon.

TONY- "So what do you call this 'THE PUMA' it Looks the part at least" Tony thoughtfully expressed with his free hand gently pulling his facial hair to stimulate his mind.

Jackson118 simply stared at him and said "WARTHOG" then he hoped in and the beast roared to life looking over at Tony he magnetically said "GET IN" and with the tone of his voice he managed to get Tony into the beast.

After sitting inside Tony felt small there was plenty of space for his suitcase and more.

After everything was ready the spartan drove off drifting out of the underground garage and once on the road he decided to take a short cut to avoid wasing time with a sharp turn the warthog flew off the road and went off road as it was meant to. Tony was in the passenger seat clutching his suit case for dear life.

Driving through some foliage and mud the spartan expertly used his radar to avoid objects as he drifted from side to side down the mountain.

During a particular nasty bump sending the vehicle soaring through the air Tony let out a yelp from the jerk of motion and unconsciously had to gasp for air at the speed they were moving.

during the whole ordeal our main man 118 was as cool as ice simply controlling the vehicle so as to not flip or crash unintentionally.

Once the tires touched down Tony was surprised that they were already on an asphalt road heading for the avengers tower at the speed limit for once.

"could you drop a hint before you go all Fast and Furious on me damn!" Tony couldn't help but say indignantly.

...
.....
...
Once finally at the tower the spartan simply unmaterialized his vehicle and followed Tony who looked at him as if wanting to ask him how instead he turned away and walked to the front doors opening them, welcomed in by a receptionist who was a young beautiful woman who was blushing up a storm seeing Tony until that is she saw Jackson in all his 8 feet 6 glory she felt terrified but she was curious about the man underneath the armor.

Tony seeing the situation decided to walk past the receptionist and to the elevator grumbling under his breath, once in the elevator he turned to realize the spartan waiting outside the elevator.

"What's wrong now come on get in" Tony impatiently said.

Deciding to just walk in 118 was surprised that the metal only groaned a bit before settling down and closing the elevator door.

Tony realizing why he stopped turned and looked him up and down " hey I know you way a Ton but the hulk probably ways more than you and I created this in case the hulk decides to take the elevator On accident so it wouldn't immediately brake."

 Tony explained while pressing the button for their designated floor. 

( would it be a button or would it be a touch screen interface no a voice command feature with Jarvis yesssss.)

 "Jarvis top floor and call the other avengers we have a new member who may or may not be joining the team."

After saying that Jarvis simply closed the elevator doors and responded with a British  accent. 

"Certainly sir right away "

The spartan simply said. "What's that supposed to mean"

Tony turned around And gave his self praising speech "I'm giving you a promotion ya I know I'm just way too nice, anyway I'm sure you'll pay me back later.

 (Tony shamelessly said without thinking about how it was his life that was saved by the spartan in the beginning.)

Alright so I've had this chapter for a while I went over it and fixed a few parts here and there.

Um I'm actually trying to improve my grades they are simply atrocious. 

a friend of mine has recently been kicked from the school because of his grades and I'm trying to avoid that. 

Thankfully a very nice Girl has entered my life and provided me with the support I've needed to continue with my education and not just enlist in the military like several other friends of mine.

Bottom line is that my creative Juices have been harnessed and drained and been put to use making essays for my english class and lab reports for my college Bio class.

I'm on a slippery slope, I either stay on the ball and pass or I lose way more than just a high school degree. 

I'm sorry I wont abandon my works it's just that currently they are all on Hiatus.

Lol what a weird word any way I'll keep trying to introduce other works so that hopefully I can inspire some one else to write.

Shit ya things are looking up next up in homework is College Algebra bye yall have a blessed day reading and or writing.

His name is Jackson 118 of the Spartans 2 program. He will be forced into a world not his own. Must use his spartan training to overcome obstacles that he will face.

um I dont own halo or marvel

I like to think the spartan is my own creation but like it's more like a creation of the people so I hes publicly available for use any one can use him please do and give me a shout out I'd love to hear about other stories https://discord.gg/uVvkXwy 

that should still be available contact me I may respond I prefer snap but oh well

Time flew by.
The news related to Master Lin had gradually died down on the Internet. Every day, there was new eye-catching news that drew everyone's attention away.
However, the shop owners of Cloud Street missed Little Boss very much.
Elder Liang and a few other people came to the 'Master Lin' shop.
"Little Boss should be back soon, right?"
Elder Zhang said, "It should be soon. It's already been twenty-something days. He should be back in just a few days."
Sister Hong smiled, "I wonder how it feels like to be in there for a month. But why do I keep feeling as if Little Boss is being lazy?"
Elder Liang said in surprise, "Sister Hong, you have that feeling too?"
Sister Hong smiled, "This isn't just a feeling, it's the truth!"
Fraud Tian came over. "Sigh, it's like this everytime. With a flick of a wrist, he'd be gone and we'd be out of luck. The townsfolk wait for his scallion pancakes every day. Why have I followed such an unreliable person?"
"Haha, Elder Tian, you should be content with your situation. Look at how, ever since you've followed Little Boss, those scallion pancake-buying townsfolk pass you a cigarette every time they see you."
Fraud Tian said cheerily, "Don't talk about that. That has to do with my personal charm. That's why they pass me cigarettes."
"Hey, there's been a development on WeChat. A one dollar art sale and it's by our Nanshan Children's Welfare Institute. What's going on?" Elder Liang said in astonishment as he used his phone.
"Nanshan Children's Welfare Institute?" Fraud Tian was startled as well. He took over the phone. "You're not kidding. I know, it must have been done by him. When I went to Nanshan Children's Welfare Institute a while back, all their artworks had been taken away. They said it was for some activity, to raise funds for the children's education."
Wu You Lan unlocked her phone. "I'm buying an artwork. These children's artworks are really pretty good."
Zhang Zhong Yang was broadcasting, "Brothers, open your WeChats and participate in the one dollar art sale. Do your part to help the children. I, Brother Yang, will thank you all by broadcasting while dressed up as a female as long as the donations reach a certain level. I don't go back on my words."
"666...in order to see Brother Yang's broadcast, I shall contribute a hundred dollars."
"Haha, I am waiting for the female clothing broadcast. I've already bought from the sale."
"Although these drawings are average-looking, they are pretty good as screensavers."
"I've already bought."
"Brothers, WeChat really is problematic, selling one piece for one dollar. How long do I need in order to buy ten thousand pieces? If only I could change the price on my own."
"Wealthy man, please share some wealth with me."
"That's a really wealthy man."
Zhao Zhong Zhang smiled. He was just doing his best on Weibo in order to contribute an effort for the children.
"Brothers, no need to spend too much. Buying one piece each is enough."
"What a kind broadcaster. I'll give you a 'like'."
…
In a certain group.
Autumn Sword Fish Killer: "My underlings, come out. Participate in the one dollar art sale. Whoever doesn't participate, don't call me your Brother anymore."
The group members sprang to life.
"Wow, that's just what I want."
"Haha…"
"This is to help children. One dollar isn't much. We have to buy."
WeChat was now widespread and in everyone's hands, hence, the impact of this was very huge. Many people saw this activity promoted by WeChat when they opened their WeChats.
One dollar sale?
What kind of activity is that?
Many citizens were puzzled when they opened their WeChats.
"D*mn, this kind of sh*tty drawing for one dollar? I wouldn't want it even if it was free."
"WeChat must have gone crazy for money. This is a high-level money-earning method."
"Hey, this is to help children from an orphanage to receive education. It's a charity activity."
"This Nanshan Children's Welfare Institute is here in Shanghai. Most of the children in there were previously kidnapped by human traffickers."
"I never thought these children would be able to do such good drawings. I have to buy them. It's time to change my screensaver."
"F*ck, didn't you just say that they were a sh*tty drawings? Why are you saying that they're good now?"
"This is different. This is charity. "
"I agree."
"This drawing is not bad. It has a good creative concept."
"Creative concept my a*s. These children might not even know what that means."
"Enough nonsense. As long as I like them, it's fine."
…
In the detention house.
Lin Fan knew that today was the time for the WeChat promotion. He unlocked his phone to take a look.
*ring ring*
A call came from Zhang Long.
"Master Lin, the activity is online. We just checked. In ten minutes, we've raised fifty thousand dollars. This is just the beginning. The number of buyers will keep increasing."
Lin Fan said gratefully, "I really have to thank you, Chief Zhang."
Chief Zhang said, "No need to thank me. This is something that we should do. But are you doing well in the detention house, Master Lin? You should be coming out soon, right?"
Lin Fan replied, "Mmm, I'll be out in a few days. I've had to trouble you with this matter, Chief Zhang."
Chief Zhang said, "Master Lin, you're too courteous. Being able to help these children is the wish of all our staff members. Don't you worry, this activity will definitely succeed."
Lin Fan had very much confidence in this as well. The people of this country were very charitable, so this kind of activity would definitely receive large support. However, the follow up must be done well too.
After all, nobody liked not knowing how their donated money would be used. Hence, they had to be transparent with their follow up work.
Also, this kind of matter would definitely draw questions. The charity industry in the country was simply too complicated. There were many cases of people using charity funds to feast and dine, drive luxurious cars and live in luxurious villas. These cases cause even the organizations that do real charity work to be tainted black.
In a certain work unit.
"What are you all doing?"
"Choosing drawings. WeChat promoted an activity, a one dollar art sale, to help those pitiful children."
"I feel that the drawings are really pretty good. I wonder what kind of brains these children have to be able to make such abstract artworks."
"Look at this drawing I've chosen. How is it? Doesn't it look great?"
"Hey, it's really pretty good. What's its serial number? Although I don't know what it's supposed to be, I think it looks pretty good."
"Serial number 003. This is drawn by a Lil' Fatty. The description says that it's a tiger."
"???"
In a certain household.
The daughter said, "Daddy, I want to buy an artwork. I want to help the little children."
The father looked at the activity, then smiled as he patted his daughter's head, "Okay, okay. My daughter is really kind. Daddy will buy it for you."
Across the country, countless people had noticed this sale. To them, one dollar wasn't much and they could buy it on a whim.
Moreover, such a charity project was sure to receive positive comments.
However, what soon followed was negative news.
On a certain web forum.
A thread had been posted.
'Discussion about the feasibility and dark secrets of the one dollar art sale'
"Today, I've been flooded by people in my circle of friends who were all buying artworks. But when I saw them, they simply could not be called art. They should be called scribbles. If I drew these, I could draw several thousand in a day. Of course, that's not the important part. The important part is the motive of this one dollar art sale. Below, I will give an analysis for everyone to see. They say that they're doing this to raise education funds for the Children's Welfare Institute but according to what we know, these Children Welfare Institutes are managed by the government. We aren't needed to worry about their educational aspect. Although one dollar isn't much, WeChat is relying on quantity. If everyone buys from them, it will be a tremendous amount. I can't help but suspect that this one dollar art sale is a way of dredging for money. Everyone, please do not be cheated."
"D*mn, is this true? I feel that it makes some sense."
"Did you all realize that this is all just for one orphanage? What about other orphanages? Just what is the history of this Nanshan Children's Welfare Institute, for them to specially do such an activity?"
"That does make some sense."
"This is f*cking annoying. Everyone in my social circle is raving about this. I won't give a single cent."
"Some of the artworks are really not bad but some are clearly done by four-year-old kids. Do you really believe that a four-year-old kid can draw good Chinese artworks?"
At this moment, another type of public opinion had arisen.
This type of public opinion became more and more popular.


I am Lin Fan and I've become a jack of all trades just because of a powerful Encyclopedia. 
In the first ever competition organised for trolls, all the other contestants lost. The crowd exclaimed, "Brother, you're so good at trolling." 
Lin Fan replied, "But I've never been trolling..."

Jing Jiu understood what she meant after the initial bafflement; and they didn't continue the topic. "How to write it?" asked Jing Jiu.
It of course had nothing to do with the skill of writing. "There are two common types of writing: One is to write with your awareness and the another is to directly collect the waves of your awareness and then describe it in words," explained Zong Lizi. "But the latter has a major problem, which is that many chaotic thoughts will come up since the minds are hard to control. The writers who are inclined to win prizes in literature prefer this type of writing; but it's seldom used in the business writing, and it's because modifying it is too cumbersome, while another reason is that the equipment used to collect the awareness is too expensive."
"Is there another type?" asked Jing Jiu.
Zong Lizi brought out a small item that looked like a finger wrapper from her room, saying, "Another type is to use the remote-control pen."
Having said that, she demonstrated how to use it. Zong Lizi put on the finger wrapper on the forefinger of her right hand before she vibrated her finger at a high speed; a line of words appeared on the computer screen without any mistakes.
"What's the difference between this method and writing with pen and paper?" asked Jing Jiu.
Zong Lizi replied earnestly after setting down the finger wrapper by the computer, "It's faster and cheaper than using pen and paper."
Jing Jiu thought that the things he didn't care about were not something the mortals didn't care about as well; he returned to his own room with the computer in his arms.
After pulling back her gaze from the tightly closed room, Zong Lizi went to the kitchen and started cooking supper.
The flavorless but healthy nutrient bars were hard to swallow and tasteless even thought they were washed down with the help of tea.
Usually she would have complained a little about the food, but she didn't today. She was somewhat at a loss, unable to notice how she had swallowed the nutrient bars.
In fact, every writer's first novel was about oneself. He was writing a story about himself in his room; the background must be the beautiful world above, and the story would be entanglements of love, hatred, hostility and revenge between the people in the upper class. Maybe, he would write about the secrets of the rich and famous families and even about a certain mistress in the priest clan…
The girl with silvery hair wondered if she could earn some royalties after the novel became popular online.
It was a wonderful thought.
And the better outcome would be that he brought her to the upper world because he didn't want to depart from her after he was brought up to the upper world by his family; and…well, I'm a naïve girl who craves wealth and nobility, and it's his fault for having such a handsome face!
Thinking of all this, she dusted off the crumbs of nutrient bar on her hand, took out a tea bag to make a cup of tea, then pushed open the door and walked in.
"It must be hard to write the novel in the beginning. I'll help you write it for the first few days, and you'll be able to do it more efficiently later on."
Zong Lizi put down the cup of tea on the windowsill before she turned to Jing Jiu, who was sitting on the floor. "You shouldn't be too concerned at first," she said with a worried expression on her face. "What…you've finished writing it!"
Her voice grew higher and higher until the tone of her voice lifted up in the end to express an inquiry.
"The end of the seventh book…He saw the battleships."
Jing Jiu turned off the computer after he wrote this line. "I haven't finished it yet; but this is a temporary ending," said Jing Jiu after he turned to face the girl with silvery hair.
Zong Lizi came back to her senses after feeling bewildered for a while. "You're a liar. You must have written it ahead of time and had the saved files," she exclaimed.
However, where were those saved files if he had written them beforehand? It was not on the network of the institute for sure. And he didn't wear any bracelet; and it seemed that he hadn't had the chips implanted…
Jing Jiu had no idea what "saved files" meant; so he didn't pay any attention to her accusation. "How to publish it?" he asked.
Zong Lizi hadn't recovered from her shock yet, as she answered, "There is a forum on the network of the institute; you can upload it everyday after you register with it."
Jing Jiu knew what "registration" meant, saying, "But I don't have any ID and can't register."
Zong Lizi offered while covering her face with her hands, "Or…use my ID."
Jing Jiu uttered "hmm" after some thought.
Zong Lizi typed something on the computer; soon after, twenty thousand words had been updated.
Seeing her pay close attention to the number of visitors and have no intention of uploading more files, Jing Jiu wondered, "Aren't you going to upload more?"
"It's enough to upload twenty thousand words a day," she replied in a casual manner. Zong Lizi stared at the computer screen and wished to find out who had posted the first comment.
Jing Jiu thought that it would take one hundred days to upload the novel this way. "Upload them all," said he.
Zong Lizi lifted up her head to glance at him as if she were staring at an idiot, but she found he, as an idiot, was truly handsome. "If we upload it all at once, it will be drowned at the bottom of the forum, and nobody will be able to find it," she said while lowering her head in embarrassment.
Jing Jiu wondered how it should be handled this way.
"Nobody will read it if the novel is finished," explained Zong Lizi patiently.
"It's not finished yet," said Jing Jiu. "It's just the beginning of the story."
"Let's compromise a little; upload…thirty thousand words a day?" she suggested after she found he was rather persistent.
"Five hundred thousand," said Jing Jiu.
Zong Lizi said, "Fifty thousand…one hundred thousand then. Deal?"
Seeing her hand stretched in front of him and the naïve expression like that of a small animal on her face that reminded Jing Jiu of the disciples on Shenmo Peak, he tapped her hand with his right hand.
Zong Lizi said while pointing to the computer, "I'll read it first tonight."
Thinking that he would spend time digesting his knowledge about the theorem that night, he nodded in agreement.
Zong Lizi picked up the computer in her arms and went back to her bedroom gleefully.
Overnight, the dim glow from the light screen had been streaming out from the crack on the door of the bedroom, and a sobbing could be heard once in a while.
Early next morning, she walked out from her bedroom while holding the computer in her arms, her silvery hair a bit messy, her eyes red, and her face a bit tired, indicating that she hadn't slept the whole night.
Lying on the couch, Jing Jiu was watching the morning news on TV. Seeing her in such a condition, he couldn't help but glance at her twice.
"The novel is not too bad," said Zong Lizi in a pretentiously casual manner, as she rubbed her slightly red nose with a paper tissue.
Jing Jiu uttered a "hmm" in a suspicious tone and pressed, "It's merely not too bad?"
Zong Lizi sat beside him and said, "The story is okay, but the emotions are not strong enough, and the conflicts are not vehement enough. The most pressing issue is the skill of writing. When Lian Sanyue died, I felt exceedingly sad but couldn't cry."
Jing Jiu wondered which plots she cried over the night before; was it the spring rain that Liu Ci turned into or the fight between him and Nan Qü?
"That young master Li was too pitiful…"
Zong Lizi felt increasingly more depressed when she recalled the lonely grave at the Three-Thousand Nunnery and the music of "Prelude to a Wonderful Night"; and furthermore, she hadn't slept the whole night before. As a result, she couldn't help but cry out loudly.
Jing Jiu didn't say anything, nor did he try to console her. All he did was look at her quietly.
It was boring to cry by herself, so Zong Lizi stopped crying gradually. She picked up the backpack and went to the institute after shooting an irritated glance at Jing Jiu.
…
…
Zong Lizi thought the novel "The Path toward Heaven" was a pretty good one; but she forgot the fact that she had read it from the beginning to the end nonstop, so she didn't have to bear the pain of waiting for updates.
It was quiet in the forum at the network of the New Era Institute; the first chapters didn't cause much reaction, except for a few comments. And the comments were not on the content of the novel but the rumors about the author.
Zong Lizi was not convinced, though. She touched on the topic in class and asked her friends to read and comment on it; it would be helpful for the novel if they could give some positive reviews.
A few days later, she heard what the classmates complained in the class, and she couldn't help but tell Jing Jiu about what they complained.
By the time the news was over on TV, Jing Jiu turned to Zong Lizi, "What did you say?"
"I offer you some suggestions on behalf of the readers. Your style of writing is pretty good; it's straightforward and distinct. However, the plots in the beginning and in the end are too disconnected, and it's written in a slow and careless manner. It's hard to remember what you have written earlier when a reader reaches the end of the novel." Zong Lizi continued after some thought, "There is one important issue: Jing Yang always pretended to be carefree and indifferent. He was too pretentious and therefore repulsive."
Jing Jiu thought to himself that he was a fairy man with a free spirit to begin with; there was no need for him to be pretentious.
…
…
Time passed like the flowing water as one lived a leisurely life.
The novel uploaded to the network of the New Era Institute didn't attract much attention like most of the novels.
Zong Lizi felt increasingly more dejected, but Jing Jiu didn't care so much about others' responses. He spent most of his time and effort on studying.
One day, he had finished studying all the materials in physics and mathematics on the network of the institute. He had basically learned them based on his own standard.
It was impossible to find more advanced knowledge of physics and mathematics on the network of the institute.
Most of the books on the three bookshelves in the study room contained specialized knowledge about economics, finance and accounting.
It was because Zong Lizi's father had been a professor in economics.
Jing Jiu couldn't help but shake his head when it occurred to him that a professor in economics opted to commit suicide due to a mutual fund scam. In his mind, the mortals were a bunch of pitiful as well as interesting people, be it in this universe or in Chaotian.
By dusk, Zong Lizi came back to the apartment under the intermittent twilight after she received the foods for the next week. Seeing Jing Jiu lie on the couch watching TV, she couldn't help but feel curious as she remarked, "I don't believe that you have actually rested."
Jing Jiu uttered "hmm". After some thought, he explained further, "I've studied all of them."
"All of them? Those are the courses for four years' study at the institute. How could you finish studying them a few weeks?"
Zong Lizi couldn't believe him. She turned on the computer on the coffee table and said, "You should write the graduation thesis and show me if you're really good."
Jing Jiu returned without drawing his gaze away from the TV screen, "No."
He actually meant it because he had no need to prove himself; on the other hand, it was mainly because he was lazy.
Zong Lizi asked after some thought, "Should you take a test? Otherwise, you don't even know if you have actually learned the knowledge."
Jing Jiu answered casually while staring at the TV screen, "I've done it already."
Zong Lizi was a bit startled to hear it. She logged in the network of the institute and the test database, and found that he had done seven tests, and that he earned full scores for all the tests.
The room was exceedingly quiet, except for the familiar voice of the news anchor.
"Have you…copied the answers?"
"Hmm?"
"Otherwise, how could you earn so many full scores?"
"I've never got any other score."
Squatting on the couch, Zong Lizi looked down at Jing Jiu's face, her eyes full of awe and respect.
In the next moment, the expression of awe turned to pity in her eyes.
It was said that the students above had the inputs of primary knowledge implanted directly into their brains; they had no need to learn from notes.
A genius like him had to study, meaning that he was neglected and even oppressed by his clan, which is why he fled to this place.
It seemed as if she had encountered an inspiring story.
In the story, the talented youth had finally won back what belonged to him in the first place.
And she was the bright light, company, and even partner of the talented youth when he was at the bottom of his life.
"Do you…want to attend the school?" offered Zong Lizi while staring into Jing Jiu's eyes. "You shouldn't waste your talent on primary school knowledge. What you should study are all in the library and database of the institute."
Jing Jiu was aware that she attended the school. The New Era Institute and other colleges were something similar to the One-Cottage House. "Okay," he replied.
Zong Lizi seemed to imagine that a legendary episode would come about; she was so excited that she couldn't help coughing nonstop.
Jing Jiu shot a glance her way.
She waved her hand to indicate that she was fine. She turned to walk back to her bedroom; \she didn't notice that Jing Jiu had followed her into her bedroom.
Jing Jiu had turned into a ghost like he had done a few days ago, standing in a corner of the bedroom while watching her on the bed quietly.
She wrapped her head in the quilt while facing the door with her back. She was coughing softly in an attempt to avoid disturbing Jing Jiu, who she believed was still in the living room.
Along with her coughing, the bed was quivering slightly; and the silvery hair outside the quilt was trembling as well. It was a pitiful scene.


I am the sword.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one dares take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, no one can take ten steps.
Killing a man amidst a thousand miles, ten steps? Not possible!
I am the sword, the sword is me,
On the path towards heaven, each shall wield their own.

JUDGMENT 

Use the wisdom, knowledge, and legwork of other people 
to further your own cause. Not only will such assistance 
save you valuable time and energy, it will give you a 
godlike aura of efficiency and speed. In the end your 
helpers will be forgotten and you will be remembered. 
Never do yourself what others can do for you. 

TRANSGRESSION AND OBSERVANCE OF THE LAW 
In 1883 a young Serbian scientist named Nikola Tesla was working for the 
European division of the Continental Edison Company. He was a brilliant 
inventor, and Charles Batchelor, a plant manager and a personal friend of 
Thomas Edison, persuaded him he should seek his fortune in America, giving him a letter of introduction to Edison himself. So began a life of woe 
and tribulation that lasted until Tesla's death. 
When Tesla met Edison in New York, the famous inventor hired him 
on the spot. Tesla worked eighteen-hour days, finding ways to improve the 
primitive Edison dynamos. Finally he offered to redesign them completely. 
To Edison this seemed a monumental task that could last years without 
paying off, but he told Tesla, "There's fifty thousand dollars in it for you-if 
you can do it." Tesla labored day and night on the project and after only a 
year he produced a greatly improved version of the dynamo, complete 
with automatic controls. He went to Edison to break the good news and receive his $50,000. Edison was pleased with the improvement, for which he 
and his company would take credit, but when it came to the issue of the 
money he told the young Serb, "Tesla, you don't understand our American 
humor!," and offered a small raise instead. 
Tesla's obsession was to create an altemating-current system (AC) of 
electricity. Edison believed in the direct-current system (DC), and not only 
refused to support Tesla's research but later did all he could to sabotage 
him. Tesla turned to the great Pittsburgh magnate George Westinghouse, 
who had started his own electricity company. Westinghouse completely 
funded Tesla's research and offered him a generous royalty agreement on 
future profits. The AC system Tesla developed is still the standard today but after patents were filed in his name, other scientists came forward to 
take credit for the invention, claiming that they had laid the groundwork 
for him. His name was lost in the shuffle, and the public came to associate 
the invention with Westinghouse himself. 
A year later, Westinghouse was caught in a takeover bid from 
J. Pierpont Morgan, who made him rescind the generous royalty contract 
he had signed with Tesla. Westinghouse explained to the scientist that his 
company would not survive if it had to pay him his full royalties; he persuaded Tesla to accept a buyout of his patents for $216,000-a large sum, 
no doubt, but far less than the $12 million they were worth at the time. The 
financiers had divested Tesla of the riches, the patents, and essentially the 
credit for the greatest invention of his career. 
The name of Guglielmo Marconi is forever linked with the invention 
of radio. But few know that in producing his invention-he broadcast a signal across the English Channel in 1899-Marconi made use of a patent 
Tesla had filed in 1897, and that his work depended on Tesla's research. 
Once again Tesla received no money and no credit. Tesla invented an induction motor as well as the AC power system, and he is the real "father of 
radio." Yet none of these discoveries bear his name. As an old man, he 
lived in poverty. 

In 1917, during his later impoverished years, Tesla was told he was to 
receive the Edison Medal of the American Institute of Electrical Engineers. 
He tumed the medal down. "You propose, " he said, "to honor me with a 
medal which I could pin upon my coat and strut for a vain hour before the 
members of your Institute. You would decorate my body and continue to 
let starve, for failure to supply recognition, my mind and its creative products, which have supplied the foundation upon which the major portion of 
your Institute exists." 

Interpretation 
Many harbor the illusion that science, dealing with facts as it does, is beyond the petty rivalries that trouble the rest of the world. Nikola Tesla was 
one of those. He believed science had nothing to do with politics, and 
claimed not to care for farne and riches, As he grew older, though, this ruined his scientific work. Not associated with any particular discovery, he 
could attract no investors to his many ideas. While he pondered great inventions for the future, others stole the patents he had already developed 
and got the glory for themselves. 
He wanted to do everything on his own, but merely exhausted and impoverished himself in the process. 
Edison was Tesla's polar opposite. He wasn't actually much of a scientific thinker or inventor; he once said that he had no need to be a mathematician because he could always hire one. That was Edison's main 
method. He was really a businessman and publicist, spotting the trends and 
the opportunities that were out there, then hiring the best in the field to do 
the work for him. If he had to he would steal from his competitors. Yet his 
name is much better known than Tesla's, and is associated with more inventions. 
The lesson is twofold: First, the credit for an invention or creation is as 
important, if not more important, than the invention itself. You must see use 
the credit for YOUR self and keep others from stealing it away, or from piggybacking on YOUR hard work. To accomplish this you must always be vigilant 
and ruthless, keeping YOUR creation quiet until you can be sure there are no 
vultures circling overhead. Second, leam to take advantage of other people's work to further your own cause. Time is precious and life is short. If 
you try to do it all on your own, you run yourself ragged, waste energy, and 
bum yourself out. It is far better to conserve your forces, pounce on the 
work others have done, and find a way to make it your own. 
Everybody steals in commerce and industry. 

I've stolen a lot myself. 
But I know how to steal. 
Thomas Edison, 1847-1931 

KEYS TO POWER 
The world of power has the dynamics of the jungle: There are those who 
live by hunting and killing, and there are also vast numbers of creatures 
(hyenas, vultures) who live off the hunting of others. These latter, less 
imaginative types are often incapable of doing the work that is essential for 
the creation of power. They understand early on, though, that if they wait 
long enough, they can always find another animal to do the work for them. 
Do not be naive: At this very moment, while you are slaving away on some 
project, there are vultures cirding above trying to figure out a way to survive and even thrive off your creativity. It is useless to complain about this, 
or to wear yourself ragged with bittemess, as Tesla did. Better to protect 
yourself and join the game. Once you have established a power base, become a vulture yourself, and save yourself a lot of time and energy. 
Of the two poles of this game, one can be illustrated by the example of 
the explorer Vasco Nliiiez de Balboa. Balboa had an obsession-the discovery of EI Dorado, a legendary city of vast riches. 
Early in the sixteenth century, after countless hardships and brushes 
with death, he found evidence of a great and wealthy empire to the south 
of Mexico, in present-day Peru. By conquering this empire, the Incan, and 
seizing its gold, he would make himself the next Cortes. The problem was 
that even as he made this discovery, word of it spread among hundreds of 
other conquistadors. He did not understand that half the game was keeping 
it quiet, and carefully watching those around him. A few years after he discovered the location of the Incan empire, a soldier in his own army, Francisco Pizarro, helped to get him beheaded for treason. Pizarro went on to 
take what Balboa had spent so many years trying to find. 
The other pole is that of the artist Peter Paul Rubens, who, late in his 
career, found himself deluged with requests for paintings. He created a system: In his large studio he employed dozens of outstanding painters, one 
specializing in robes, another in backgrounds, and so on. He created a vast 
production line in which a large number of canvases would be worked on 
at the same time. When an important dient visited the studio, Rubens 
would shoo his hired painters out for the day. While the dient watched 
from a balcony, Rubens would work at an incredible pace, with unbelievable energy. The dient would leave in awe of this prodigious man, who 
could paint so many masterpieces in so short a time. 
This is the essence of the Law: Lern to get others to do the work for 
you while you take the credit, and you appear to be of godlike strength and 
power. If you think it important to do all the work yourself, you will never 
get far, and you will suffer the fate of the Balboas and Teslas of the world. 
Find people with the skills and creativity you lack. Either hire them, while 
putting your own name on top of theirs, or find a way to take their work 
and make it your own. Their creativity thus becomes yours, and you seem 
a genius to the world. 
There is another application of this law that does not require the parasitic use of your contemporaries' labor: Use the past, a vast storehouse of 


knowledge and wisdom. Isaac Newton called this "standing on the shoulders of giants." He meant that in making his discoveries he had built on the 
achievements of others. A great part of his aura of genius, he knew, was attributable to his shrewd ability to make the most of the insights of ancient, 
medieval, and Renaissance scientists. Shakespeare borrowed plots, characterizations, and even dialogue from Plutarch, among other writers, for he knew that nobody surpassed Plutarch in the writing of subtle psychology 
and witty quotes. How many later writers have in their turn borrowed 
from-plagiarized--Shakespeare? 
We all know how few of today's politicians write their own speeches. 
Their own words would not win them a single vote; their eloquence and 
wit, whatever there is of it, they owe to a speech writer. Other people 
do the work, they take the credit. The upside of this is that it is a kind 
of power that is available to everyone. Learn to use the knowledge of the 
past and you will look like a genius, even when you are really just a ever 
borrower. 
Writers who have delved into human nature, ancient masters of strategy, historians of human stupidity and folly, kings and queens who have 
learned the hard way how to handle the burdens of power-their knowledge is gathering dust, waiting for you to come and stand on their shoulders. Their wit can be your wit, their skill can be your skill, and they will 
never come around to tell people how unoriginal you really are. You can 
slog through life, making endless mistakes, wasting time and energy trying 
to do things from your own experience. Or you can use the armies of the 
past. As Bismarck once said, "Fools say that they leam by experience. I 
prefer to profit by others' experience." 

Image: The Vulture. Of all the creatures in 
the jungle, he has it the easiest. The 
hard work of others becomes his work; 
their failure to survive becomes his 
nourishment. Keep an eye on 
the Vulture-while you are 
hard at work, he is cirding above. Do not 
fight him, join 
him . 
Authority: There is much to be known, life is short, and life is not life 
without knowledge. It is therefore an excellent device to acquire 
knowledge from everybody. Thus, by the sweat of another's brow, you 
win the reputation of being an orade. (Baltasar Graciän, 1601-1658) 

REVERSAL 
There are times when taking the credit for work that others have done is 
not the wise course: If your power is not firmly enough established, you 
will seem to be pushing people out of the limelight. To be a brilliant exploiter of talent your position must be unshakable, or you will be accused 
of deception. 
Be sure you know when letting other people share the credit serves 
your purpose. It is especially important to not be greedy when you have a 
master above you. President Richard Nixon's historie visit to the People's 
Republic of China was originally his idea, but it might never have come off 
but for the deft diplomacy of Henry Kissinger. Nor would it have been as 
successful without Kissinger's skills. Still, when the time came to take 
credit, Kissinger adroitly let Nixon take the Hon's share. Knowing that the 
truth would come out later, he was careful not to jeopardize his standing in 
the short term by hogging the limelight. Kissinger played the game expertly: He took credit for the work of those below him while graciously 
giving credit for his own labors to those above. That is the way to play 
the game.

I thought to myself 
with what means, with 
what deceptions, with 
how many varied arts, 
with what industry a 
man sharpens his wits 
to deceive another, 
and through these 
variations the world is 
made more beautiful.

"Of course, I know that."
"And you know there are lots of talented students there, too, right?"
Hyunwoo recalled the case of Minkyu Kang and the annual exhibition hosted by Dreaming School. When he visited it last time, he was quite impressed by the students' works.
He was impressed by their creative power, in particular, and it was their creative power that his father Duyoung and Kuroda volunteered to teach them to explore.
Recently Suji's father, Taeho Min, also decided to donate his talent to the students.
Duyoung continued, "I hear the graduates from Dreaming School are in trouble. They go to alternative high schools, but the problem is they don't receive creative education like Dreaming School."
Hyunwoo felt sorry to hear that sad situation.
"That's why I would like to bring some of the graduates here and teach them directly," said Duyoung.
Hyunwoo seemed to know why his father brought up the topic so carefully.
"In other words, you want to establish an alternative school for them, daddy?"
Duyoung's eyes opened wide at his question.
"Alternative school here is just a grandiose idea. I just want to bring some of them here and take them as my assistants."
What he really meant was that he wanted to have them beside him and teach them in person.
Hyunwoo wanted to create an environment in which the students could only focus on studying without worrying about anything else. 
And he coveted the creativeness of the young students. In fact, the pace of research was too slow in the case of his father and Kuroda. Though Taeho Min was long involved in the research, he didn't produce any tangible results.
Hyunwoo felt the students could bring about a breakthrough in their research. For they could approach the problem from a new angle with their out-of-the-box creativeness. 
The real problem was money.
No matter how small it was, they could not use the container house as an alternative school. In particular, a new dormitory would be needed for students who had to come from faraway places. 
But Hyunwoo's agonizing didn't last long. 
The incoming students of the new alternative school would be 20 at the most, and the separate research institute for Duyoung and Kuroda would not be large. Even if Taeho joined them, the institute would be more than enough for their research activities. 
"Don't worry about the money. Let me find a solution," said Hyunwoo confidently.
And now Kuroda also cautiously expressed his wish to move his research room along with Duyoung.
"Of course, you should move with me," said Duyoung.
Then, turning to Hyunwoo, he asked, "Don't you agree?
"Sure, Dad," replied Hyunwoo pleasantly. Hyunwoo continued, "If Dr. Taeho Min also wishes to move, he can join you, of course."
"Wow, you're my son! You already read our minds, hahaha."
In fact, Duyoung was full of enthusiasm for his research but had no real progress. Still, he was persistent. He continued to pursue his research with the firm conviction that his research would be regarded as a success if it laid the foundation for his students' further research.
In the process of pursuing his lonely path, Duyoung met a colleague, who was none other than Taeho. Like him, Taeho was devoting himself to the development of new materials. 
Hyunwoo gently asked his father, "Do you want to pursue joint research with Dr. Min?"
"Do you think that is easy?" answered Duyoung with a perplexed look.
Giggling at that, Hyunwoo felt he needed to help his father with it.
Several days passed.
Taeho usually stayed at home during the weekends. Sometimes, he spent time in his container house for research, but he kept his promise to take a walk with the family.
After dinner, he went back to the container house.
Hyunwoo cautiously called him outside and said,
"Dr. Min, can I talk with you a bit?"
"Sure, Hyunwoo."
Without hesitation, Hyunwoo told him his point, "I understand your research has something in common with my father's research.'
"Yea, that's true."
"I wonder if you are willing to do joint research with my father. Or you can share your research findings with my father…" said Hyunwoo, slurring the end of his sentences.
Taeho was staring at him with a serious look, and then said, "Was it Dr. Jang's idea?"
"Not necessarily. But I can say with confidence that he wants it earnestly."
"Well, I have no objection as long as Dr. Jang wants it. In fact, I was also very curious about his research," said Taeho. 
Hyunwoo's face brightened. He went on to say that he would build a new research center to house his father and Kuroda's offices.
Taeho said without any hesitation, "Of course I would love to move to a new office. By the way, I think you will need lots of money to build a research institute. Can I invest 300 million won for that?"
"I'll let you know if my budget is not sufficient. I think it's more important to decide how to build the research center. Hopefully, the three of you can meet one of these days and discuss it."

Several days later Hyunwoo had a date with Suji.
They left for the east coast early in the morning, rode a bicycle and had a drink over seafood.
When it was dark, they checked into a condominium and made hot love.
Suji was lying on the bed in pajamas, and Hyunwoo hugged her from behind.
It looked as if they were dreaming a happy dream if they went to sleep at that moment. 
Then she initiated a conversation after some hesitation.
"Did you tell my Dad that you're going to build a new research center?"
Hyunwoo opened his eyes wide at that.
Taeho was crazy about research. He was blamed for giving up his family for his research when he was affiliated with a university research. When the university cut off the funding of his research, he came back to his family. 
Now, Taeho could refocus on research thanks to Hyunwoo's consideration. Though he might appreciate Hyunwoos' help, Suji and her mother might feel resentment towards him.
Hyunwoo answered cautiously, "Yes, I did."
Suji didn't reply, letting out a sigh, which was barely audible. 
Hyunwoo said as if to persuade her, "As you know, the new research center is within ten minutes' walking distance from the existing container houses. And your father won't go back to his previous habit, so don't worry."
"I wish you had discussed with us in advance," said Suji.
"Sorry about that. I didn't think as far as that. I just thought your family would feel the same way if your father felt happy."
Suji didn't argue with him anymore. In fact, there was no big difference whether his father did his research in the container house or the new research center. What Suji and her mother wanted was for Taeho to keep his promise.
There lasted some silence between Suji and Hyunwoo.
And then she broke the silence by asking in a cautious tone, "I also heard you're planning to set up an alternative school."
At that moment, Hyunwoo felt a bit proud of that. Actually, that was what he had been dreaming for a long time. Though he was planning to start with a small alternative school, it would grow in size in due course, and later he would bring all the students talented in music and animation to the school and teach them.
"How did you know that? I haven't yet told your father about that."
But Suji reacted with annoyance, "Do you really have to build an alternative school?"
Hardening his face, he asked, "What the heck are you talking about?"
"I just want you to live an ordinary life."
"What's the big deal? Do you expect any big change in my life if I build an alternative school?"
"Well, that's what I feel now. Ordinary people think of investing rather than freely spending money for others. Am I wrong?"
Suji had a point but seemed to think Hyunwoo just lavishly spent the money without any purpose.
He asked her quietly, "Do you think I should buy stocks with the money?"
"Well, I don't like stocks at all, but I think that's more realistic investment than blind spending on the people that we don't know at all."
"What about buying the real estate?"
"That's the most realistic investment I think," said Suji honestly.
"What about investing in those with potential?"
"I don't think any school can reap the return on its investment in its students. We can't say it's  investment."
Both of them exchanged serious opinions like that. Controlling his feelings, Hyunwoo tried to persuade her logically.
"I don't want any monetary rewards for my investment. I just think it's a reward to me for them to grow as competent men and women. Think of that! How happy you would be if you watched them growing to be excellent men with my help!"
Suji let out a sigh, as if she couldn't understand his point. 
"I think if we become a family, we can have the right to enjoy our own wealth. I mean, we can live in a big house, wear good clothes, have good food and sometimes show off in front of others. I may be a snob, but I would like to live like that if I am rich enough."
"Yea, I fully agree with you," said Hyunwoo seriously. 
But he felt watching those he selected in person growing professionally was as much psychological pleasure and rewards as the monetary rewards. 
"I can say this clearly. My kind of investment also brings a great monetary reward, too. Just take a look at the Anifan kids. You never know how much they are making for me now. In your mind, which investment would bring you more happiness and sense of reward, Suji?"

Miracles don't come walking your way by themselves.

It is your decisions and will that determine these.

A story of a man who created miracles.

**Munpia Novels**

------
The previous chapters were mistakenly released under 《Remember The Name》. It's finally fixed.

A fiber of connection from miles away...



Our places on this earth are divided by oceans setting us apart from one continent to another. Several countries speaking several languages to understand each other. People with several cultures and beliefs. Different personalities and opinions.

In this chaotic world, we live in called real life we search for a place to escape from that reality. To be accepted as who or what we are. We have found that in the music we sing. In the books, we read. In the movies we watch. In the places, we travel and visit. Everywhere in which we get inspiration to face reality head-on.

We write stories or poems to inspire others, reading the words we weave from our own world. For some of us, it is simply an escape from reality into a world in which we can use our imaginations to dream make-believe or to live our secret fantasies or just plain be creative.

Getting on the web gives us more ways to share and get connected to other people with the same kind of thinking from across the ocean. Some of the people we meet along the way give us reasons to smile again. It's where we become friends, get to know them well, and get so close that we even trust them enough to share our own greatest fears.

I was a living a kind of living death when I found solace here on Stories Space. A place to write, camouflaging my hatred and sadness from myself when I was reading all the poetry and fictional fantasies created by the writers. I found another escape from reality and indulged in reading.

My feelings from my own troubles in life had made me feel so empty that only through laughter and reading could I be free and somewhat whole again.

I made my own heaven in purgatory.

A friend told me to write down all of my pains and troubles in poems or stories. Another friend of mine told me to be fierce in my poetry writing. I found friends who helped me give my own life a reason to continue living again through writing.

Writing makes me calm every time my mind gets into a panic mode. The pains and the fears of the unknown are my muses for writing.

When I met someone who understood me and made me feel needed and loved my poetry changed its tune. It made me think of happy thoughts. I got inspired by the things I saw and the happy memories of my childhood that I could write about.

Painful memories and realities were always there and so I wrote about them from time to time.

When that someone left me I continued writing. The same inner muse I had gained I used to keep on writing.

Then, out of nowhere, I got to know you. I became happy again. This time I got even more inspired and more creative, experimenting with my writings.

I set aside my shyness and reservations to write creatively. I still can't overcome some of my shyness and reservation but I am blooming, inspired by you.

You became my muse.

The man in the moon. The stars in my darkest hours. When at night I can't sleep thinking of you calms me to sleep.

The sunshine after the heavy storm. Where all the dead trees come to life again. That keeps me warm when everything gets chilly.

My own little heaven in my real life purgatory.

Writing...

Rune's Prose & Poetries

LUCID DREAMS

my wandering crazy mind is just doodling in the sands...

it's just me ...this is a collection of my amateurish writings of poetry, short stories, and prose...

These are all short stories compilation a different story per chapter.

WARNING: Adult contents, please be advised that you're reading EROTICA


ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
RuneMcGrey
Copyright©2014-present

All writings remains MEG Cabingan a.k.a. RuNe also known as runemcgrey's property.
Don't use it for any other purposes without her permission.

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Remember The Name

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A Valiant Life

The Path Toward Heaven

48 LAWS OF POWER

The Famous Millionaire

LUCID DREAMS

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