Luo Chuan had originally planned to spend the entire morning slacking off and loafing around as usual, but as the saying went, plans often failed to keep up with change.
After all the busyness at Lingyun Academy, a certain boss discovered that he could no longer sit there with a clear conscience and waste his time away. If he did not do something, he felt uncomfortable all over.
Well, that really was a sad story.
Habits were powerful. When they fell upon a boss whose ultimate philosophy in life was to coast along and wait for death, everything became rather subtle.
So Luo Chuan basically spent all his time on the novel.
He felt that he could not simply copy it wholesale, so based on his own understanding, he suitably altered the plot and outline while ensuring they remained logical. In any case, this world had no original version, and he wanted to leave something of his own in it.
He put down the Magic Phone, stretched lazily, and rolled his neck.
Just now, on a whim, he had tried the thought-based typing he had mentioned to Yao Ziyan before. The conclusion was much the same as her guess: it was readable, but only barely within the realm of readability. The whole thing was practically plain speech, with whatever he thought appearing directly on the screen.
The quality was truly worrying.
In other words, to meet Luo Chuan's standards for publishing, it would still need a complete and thorough revision. The time and effort required were hardly any less than not using thought-based typing at all, so this Magic Phone function was entirely a tasteless chicken rib with no real practical use—at least, for Luo Chuan at present.
Perhaps special training, or guidance from mental magic or formations, could remove