Shuttle in the TV series

"Writing a book with me as the protagonist is so powerful."

Lei Laowu was overjoyed when he heard the words, and even couldn't believe it.

This is equivalent to writing a book and setting up a biography. Even Thief Saint and Thief God don't have this kind of treatment, so it's no wonder that he is a little flattered.

If the books are good enough, it may be possible to pass them down through the ages in the future. Thinking that after thousands of years, there will still be people who will know his name and tell his story. Lei Laowu's lips trembled excitedly, his eyes were full of brilliance, and he couldn't wait to ask:

"I wonder if you have thought about the title of the book?"

"People light candles and ghosts blow out lanterns. The title of the book should be "Ghosts Blowing Out Lanterns." Jiang Yi picked up his teacup unhurriedly, took a sip, and pretended to be B calmly.

""Ghost Blowing the Lantern", a good name, it's scary and suspenseful enough to hear." Lei Laowu clapped excitedly and praised repeatedly.

He regards this unpublished book as the sustenance of his fame through the ages, and he only thinks that this book must be very exciting and will definitely be a big seller.

Jiang Yi nodded: "If that's the case, then you can first introduce your situation in detail, and also tell me about your tomb robbery experience over the years, especially the weird ones, so that I can add them to the book."

"Okay, okay, no problem."

Lei Laowu nodded hurriedly, and then began to tell his birth and tomb robbery experience one by one.

Jiang Yi took out a pen and paper and took notes.

...

In the next few days, Lei Lao Wu followed Jiang Yi like a loyal younger brother, saddled him, served tea and poured water for him, and was so attentive that everyone in the inn was confused.

When they heard that Jiang Yi was going to write a novel about Captain Mo Jin, they all became interested and wanted to see it first.

It's just that Jiang Yi is usually busy with cultivation, and he only has two or three hours of rest a day to write novels, so the progress is not fast.

Of course, if Jiang Yi were to write a novel, he couldn't do it.

However, his mobile phone and power bank still have some power, so copying a ghost blowing lamp is not a problem. The rest can be outlined and asked to write.

In order to make the story more in line with the appetite of the public in this era, Jiang Yi specially invited a literati with good literary talent to help him polish his pen.

In a blink of an eye, it was five days later.

Jiang Yi came to the inn with a stack of manuscript papers, and announced to everyone: "Brothers, I have already written a half of the first part of Ghost Chuideng's Jingjue Ancient City. Let's take a look and give some comments."

Before he finished speaking, Lei Laowu rushed over like a cheetah, grabbed the manuscript paper in Jiang Yi's hand, and couldn't wait to read it, wanting to know what kind of image he would be in Jiang Yi's book.

The speed was so fast that even Bai Zhantang, the robber saint, was speechless.

Guo Furong, Bai Zhantang, and Da Zui also wanted to see how Jiang Yi's book was written, so they put their heads together.

"Don't squeeze, I'll watch first, squeeze again and I'll hit you."

"Old Bai, you blocked me."

"Let's watch together, don't rob indiscriminately, if you rob again, I will block you."

After arguing for a while, everyone grabbed their seats and began to read the manuscript paper quietly.

Looking at the lines of writing on the paper, a story with twists and turns and ups and downs came into everyone's eyes.

The mysterious savage ditch, the deep and terrifying tomb, the powerful and terrifying zongzi, the snowy glacier, and the weird and unpredictable blue fire ghost.

As the story unfolds, everyone seems to have stepped into a bizarre, unpredictable and mysterious new world, following the protagonist through a series of fantastic adventures.

After reading the manuscript, the story came to an abrupt end at the climax, and everyone who watched was scratching their heads, eager to know the next plot.

Guo Furong jumped in front of Jiang Yi, grabbed his hand, and asked repeatedly: "What happened to the nine-story demon tower? What happened to Lei Lao Wu (the protagonist in the book)?"

Xiaobei also looked at Jiang Yi eagerly: "Brother Jiang, tell me quickly, is that blue fire ladybug real? Are there really zongzi in the world?"

Although Bai Zhantang and Da Zui didn't speak, they also looked at Jiang Yi with searching eyes, waiting for him to give an answer.

In this regard, Jiang Yi can only give a non-spoiler answer, calmly expressing that the next chapter will be more exciting.

As for Lei Lao Wu himself, after reading the manuscript, he fell into a daze, and after a long time he muttered to himself: "This, is this really me, Lei Lao Wu, so I have experienced such a wonderful thing."

He has already begun to suspect that he has really experienced those weird and bizarre things as described in the novel.

Everyone praised Jiang Yi's novel, but the scholar on the side was a little sour, and muttered: "The writing is so-so, and the stories are all about ghosts and monsters, without any depth."

Guo Furong was dissatisfied with the scholar's slander of her new idol, and retorted: "You said Brother Jiang's book is not good, write one if you have the ability."

"That's right, if you can do it, go ahead, if you can't, don't push me."

Xiao Bei stood in front of Jiang Yi like a furry cat, defending her Jiang Yi Ouba, and said:

"Do you know Brother Jiang? Do you know how hard Brother Jiang works? He practices martial arts hard every day and writes novels until midnight at night. You don't know his hard work at all. What right do you have to say about him?"

Da Zui also criticized him: "You must be jealous of Xiao Jiang's talent, so you deliberately blackmailed him."

Xiucai didn't expect that he would attract people's siege just by mentioning one sentence, and he couldn't help being wronged: "I didn't say the story was bad, but I just felt that the depth and connotation were not enough."

How can Lei Laowu let Xiucai slander this masterpiece with himself as the protagonist, pointing at Xiucai sternly and saying: "Do you know what is depth and what is connotation? You must know that a book that the public loves is a good book. What kind of deep connotation is it?" , it's all nonsense."

"Besides, Jiang Yi is a wanderer who has returned from overseas. It is not easy to write such a book with the charm of Ming Dynasty. Do you know that you dare to slander him? You are not worthy of being a commoner of Ming Dynasty."

Xiaobei: "That's right, you are still a scholar, but you have never written anything decent. You must be jealous that Big Brother Jiang can write such a good book. If you have the ability, write a book."

Seeing how everyone was spitting on talent in order to defend himself, Jiang Yi could only express that it was really cool to feel like a fan of brains.

"You people don't understand literature at all, and it's useless to tell you this."

How could a scholar be able to speak up against a group of idiotic fans, and he had no choice but to walk away in the face of everyone's ridicule.

Before leaving, he turned his head to look at the crowd unwillingly, and said, "Look at it, I'm sure I can write a better novel than this ghost blowing lamp."

After finishing speaking, he lifted the curtain, angrily returned to his room, took out a stack of manuscript paper, and spread it on the table.

On the manuscript paper are four large characters "Wulin Biography".

This is the novel he intends to write, but it's a pity that he only wrote two pages after more than a month, and the speed is as slow as a snail.

The scholar gritted his teeth, picked up his pen and began to write, secretly swearing in his heart: "My martial arts biography will definitely be more exciting than the ghost blowing the lamp, and then I will let you know what is the real talent."

From then on, the scholar was in a trance like a demon, and he was in a trance all day long, and he didn't know how to answer when he talked to him.

I have been standing behind the counter all this time, and I don't count it anymore, just frowning, biting the tip of my pen, and writing novels.

It's a pity that inspiration is rare, and the scholar still has obsessive-compulsive disorder. After writing a page of the plot, when I look back, I feel that it is not good and needs to be revised.

In this way, non-stop writing, overturning and revising, the speed is extremely slow.