Could Four Thousand Words a Day Work? (Please Vote!)

Could Four Thousand Words a Day Work? (Please Vote!)

Duncan's Home.

Lord of the Mysteries.

Lord of the Mysteries.

This was the masterpiece Adam intended to borrow.

Its background drew precisely from Western steampunk and the Cthulhu Mythos, making it a perfect fit for publication in the United States.

Yes.

Physical publication, not as a Webnovel.

It was only 1992. Qidian did not even exist, much less an international version of Qidian.

But Adam was not disappointed in the slightest. Lord of the Mysteries could absolutely take the route of physical publication, and with copyright protection being so thorough, once it was successfully published, it would bring Adam a steady stream of income.

How much money he made did not really matter. As long as it was enough, that was fine. What filled Adam's heart was a wicked little urge: to trigger a Big Bang of the Lord of the Mysteries universe in the West.

Just imagine Sheldon, Leonard, and the others becoming crazily obsessed with Lord of the Mysteries in the future, wearing clothes printed with its characters, filling their homes with merchandise, constantly cosplaying its classic characters and scenes, and shouting its iconic lines. Just thinking about it gave him a thrill.

Sheldon, cosplaying the pitiable Klein: "Blessed Yellow Heaven Exalted, Blessed Yellow Heaven God, Blessed Yellow Heaven Lord, Blessed Yellow Heaven Immortal Exalted."

Leonard, cosplaying the true protagonist Leonard: "Perhaps you won't believe it, but once I finish reciting this poem, you'll die!"

Howard, cosplaying Emperor Roselle: "The taste of a witch is really quite nice~!"

Rajesh, cosplaying Miss Justice: "Good afternoon, Mr. Fool~"

Uh, fine, the last one was rather eye-searing. Still, there was an eighty percent chance it would become reality. After all, Rajesh had even cosplayed Wonder Woman, and he had happily volunteered to switch with Penny.

And even—

Juno, cosplaying Xiu Dillcha: "Don't be nervous. I'm a physicist who persuades people physically. It's perfectly reasonable for me to carry a triangular bayonet, right?"

Karen, cosplaying Fors Wall: "Xiu really is a five-foot giant. So heroic! Write it down, write it down—Day 692 of living with Xiu..."

After fantasizing for quite a while, Adam officially began writing.

Chapter One: Crimson.

Naturally, the protagonist could not be named Zhou Mingrui. Otherwise, Western readers would have no sense of immersion. This was not the future year 2020; writing it that way carried too great a risk of failure. It would be better to have him transmigrate with the same name—or rather, awaken with it. The protagonist would be called Klein Moretti.

As for the future Emperor Roselle, Huang Tao, his name before transmigration or awakening, naturally could not be used either. He would simply be Roselle Gustav.

And the simplified Chinese characters that ran throughout the story?

No problem. He could establish that Klein and the previous protagonist, Roselle, were enthusiasts of Eastern mystical culture. It was perfectly reasonable for Klein to buy the Compendium of Secret Qin-Han Occult Arts before transmigrating.

Besides, quite a few Westerners were interested in Eastern mystical elements. Setting up a fantasy novel this way could count as a fresh and novel attraction.

Perhaps once it became popular, many chuunibyou Western teenagers would want to replicate Klein's path. They would all enroll in New Oriental to study Chinese, only to be reduced to tears one by one, crying, "Klein and Roselle truly deserve to be protagonists! They can master such difficult writing. This is a language even gods cannot grasp!"

This could also be considered one of Adam's contributions to cultural export in this parallel world.

Other than these minor adjustments, Adam only needed to translate everything else directly from Chinese into English. His old fantasy of writing ten thousand words a day was no longer a dream.

Two hours later.

"Damn!"

Adam tossed down his pen, rubbed his wrist, and picked up the sheets to count them. The writing was densely packed, yet there were fewer than a thousand words in total.

Although he did not need to come up with the story himself, translation was still an exhausting and arduous task.

How could he use precise vocabulary to convey the original atmosphere of Lord of the Mysteries more accurately? For someone who had never worked in translation before, it was truly difficult.

Ten thousand words a day?

What a joke!

I really can't do it!

Over the following week, Adam devoted most of his energy to "writing" Lord of the Mysteries. As his proficiency improved, his translation speed noticeably increased, but he still could not manage ten thousand words a day.

After writing four thousand words before bed, even though the plot and the wording were right there waiting for him, Adam, still full of energy, nevertheless hit a wall. No matter what, he could not be bothered to type even one more word.

This was probably a lingering side effect from his previous life, when he had been a failed Webnovel author grinding for the attendance bonus. Once he reached four thousand words and secured the bonus, all his motivation vanished, and he completely turned into a salted fish.

He was either chatting idly in group chats or watching movies, TV shows, and novels.

He had never expected such a habit, carved into his bones, to follow Adam through transmigration.

Now, he spent his mornings reading British history, especially the history of the Victorian Era, and his afternoons reading Cthulhu Mythos stories, since these were the background eras of Lord of the Mysteries. Although Cuttlefish had been incredibly meticulous and the details in the book held up under scrutiny, that was Cuttlefish's work.

Adam had to study them thoroughly himself. Otherwise, if the novel became popular and he attended interviews, what would he do if people asked him to elaborate on deeper details? He could not exactly say he did not know.

For example, Sheldon and his group were ultimate nitpickers. They could seize upon a single detail and expand on it endlessly. If the logic was not rigorous, they would look down on it.

Like whether Superman should catch Louise when she fell from the sky.

Sheldon's answer was that if Superman truly loved Louise, he should not catch her. Otherwise, based on the speed of free fall and Superman's powerful arms, Louise would be sliced into three pieces.

Compared to that, letting her fall to her death would clearly be kinder.

As a result, he spent far more time reading and thinking than actually writing.

Fortunately, physical novel publishing in the United States was different from the pace of Webnovels in his previous life, where daily updates were mandatory. A novel of roughly two hundred thousand words could be published.

At Adam's current pace, the two months of summer vacation would be enough.

As for the later chapters, he would have to wait until after submitting it and see how things went. If it was seriously incompatible with the local market, he would cut his losses decisively and find another way to make money.

With his utterly ordinary looks, he could be like Joey from Friends and work as an extra, or become a waiter at a coffee shop or bar. The working hours would be flexible, the pay would not be low, and he could easily support himself.

But Adam estimated that the chances of success were still quite high.

Lord of the Mysteries had more than four million words. Even if each volume was calculated at four hundred thousand words, it could still be published as ten books. By then, he could release one a year and write around a thousand words a day, without affecting his work, studies, or daily life at all.

Ring, ring.

"Adam, it's for you!"

Teddy walked in holding the phone, her face full of teasing amusement. "It's Juno. Tonight is the Class of 1992 graduation prom. Is Juno the date you invited?"

"No."

Ignoring his little sister's gossip, Adam took the phone and chatted with Juno for a few moments. Then he stood, stretched lazily, gazed at the sunset outside the window for a while, and began changing clothes.

For some reason, Barney Stinson's famous line from How I Met Your Mother suddenly surfaced in his mind.

Suit up!

Tonight would be legen—wait for it—dary. Legendary. A Legendary Night!