The surrounding environment had a crucial impact on writing novels.
Although Luo Chuan could still write in the noisy environment of Origin Mall, it ultimately could not compare to what he wrote in the dead of night.
When all sounds had fallen silent, a few stars dotted the night sky, the moon flickered in and out behind the clouds, and the room was so quiet that he could clearly hear his own breathing.
At times like this, his thoughts often became exceptionally clear, with all sorts of plotlines, story content, and methods of digging pitfalls springing forth one after another.
Writing novels became twice as effective with half the effort.
Perhaps, aside from procrastination, this was another major reason why authors always chose to update late at night.
With that in mind, Luo Chuan opened the writing page on his Magic Phone.
It was a bit of a pity that the idea of writing through thought alone still had not been realized.
Of course, the Magic Phone also had a voice-writing function, but speaking the words aloud and typing them out with his own hands were entirely different experiences.
Luo Chuan had tried it before, but it had always felt strange, so he still stuck to his original habit.
Quite some time had passed since Luo Chuan had released this transported novel that he had revised. Even though he only updated a tiny bit each day, it was still nearing its conclusion.
The readers in the comment section had reacted intensely, clamoring to send Luo Chuan gifts.
'I never expected the boss to write Old Tang to death.'
'The Dragon King is actually Old Tang?! Boss, you're not joking, are you?'
'I have a feeling that many familiar people will probably die later on.'
*'I've decided. When the boss comes