Culture Conquers Foreign Worlds

　　 Harvey is creating masochistic style every day.

Maybe it’s very easy for ordinary people to create a novel. Just use their brains and then move their fingers. The reality is that creating works is a squeeze of the brain. The essence is no different from moving bricks, and the mental torture is even more difficult. bear. In the case of unsuccessful creation, the feeling of irritability and depression is like a poisonous snake entrenched in Harvey’s heart, eating all patience. Harvey can’t remember how many times he had the urge to lift the table in three days, and he gritted his teeth again and again. .

　　 His reason overcomes his impulse, and he can only bite the bullet and write it down if he can't find other ways to raise money.

I don’t know if this feeling of stubbornness is similar to that of the protagonist who was framed and suffered jail time. When he wrote about the torture and pain that the protagonist had suffered, it was unexpectedly smooth. All the negative emotions were poured into his own writing. The protagonist, through him "speak" all dissatisfaction.

　　 In the bedroom, the pen in Harvey's hand spins quickly, the fonts are connected to each other, and the degree of recognition becomes lower. His eyes flashed with divine light, ignoring the sorrow and sorrow of his right hand, venting all the negative emotions, he felt the pleasure of creation for the first time! Edmund Dantes, the protagonist of his novels, is in prison for unprecedented suffering. He was framed during marriage and was innocently imprisoned. He fell from the peak of his life. He prayed for hope every day, and he had promised him an agent prosecutor. There was no news from the officer Villefort, and the prison inspector did not bring back any news.

　　 As time passed, Dantes fell to **** in his heart, and he was desperate.

　　······

A lonely and maddening prison, only iron bars and unchanging sea views outside. The sea breeze mixed with the smell of the sea blows into the prison from a small window. The young sailor Edmund Dantes, who once thought to be a man, left his regret. Tears. The new warden took office. He thought it was too troublesome to remember the names of prisoners, so he simply replaced them with their cell numbers. There are more than one hundred rooms in this ghastly prison. The prisoners are named after their room numbers. The unfortunate protagonist is no longer named Edmund Dantes. He is now the "34" without a name. .

No. 34's skinny, claw-like hands grabbed the window bar and roared out: "Lord! Please tell me what I have done wrong! Why should an innocent person, a person who is about to be happy, suffer such a disaster? !"

"No one! No one! No one coming! Why should I be imprisoned in this cramped and dirty prison at the best moment of my life, I have been tortured by loneliness and I am going crazy, should I be in this gloomy place like this? Spend the rest of your life in the corner?"

　　 "Spend the rest of your life here!?"

　　 "Obviously I am innocent, is that really the case? Or maybe I have committed certain crimes before I will be punished!"

　　 "No! I did not commit any crime! At that time, the prosecutor of Villefort should have burned the letter transmitted by your majesty."

　　 "Ahhhh, everything is the fault of that informant letter! Without that informant letter, I should have been married to Mercedes, we would be very happy, maybe we already have children..."

　　 "Who is it!? Who is the informer!"

　　 "I want to curse you! Curse you to hell! You will be pushed to the guillotine! Your vile spirit will be cast aside by everyone! Your filthy soul will endure the fire of purgatory forever!"

Uncontrollable fury occupied his mind. Dantes used his body to hit the stone wall of the prison, cursing loudly at God. He hadn't taken care of his appearance for a long time, and his hair and beard were very long. When the blood on his forehead cursed God, it looked like he was possessed by the devil, so that the jailer who guarded him was so frightened to stop him.

Dantes transferred his anger to everything around him. He angered himself, angered every meaningless thing around him, such as his broken bed, such as the cold stone wall, or the cool sea breeze coming in from the window, Will The informant letter that Prosecutor Fu showed him resurfaced in his mind, and the font was as blood-red as blood.

　　 He waited in despair and numbness, lack of communication and dull thoughts, he could not even recognize that it was God's retribution or human hatred that pushed him into the abyss of pain.

　　······

When Edmond Dantes was preparing to commit suicide on a hunger strike in the solitary prison, he heard the abnormal noise from the prison stone wall. He talked to the mysterious prisoner, Edmond Tang, who had been alone for too long. For the first time Tas felt comforted. For him, it was a ray of sunshine in the abyss of despair, saving him from the desperate situation of madness and loneliness.

　　 The plot of the novel comes to an abrupt end here, and there is no time for Harvey to write it down.

Three days have passed since the beginning of the creation of "The Count of Monte Cristo", Harvey was limp in the bedroom seat, staring at the manuscript on the desktop with sluggish and tired eyes, because his eyes were bloodshot, and his right hand couldn't help trembling. The palm skin was stained black with ink. For a long time, Harvey, who was gasping for breath, timidly packed the manuscripts. He didn't even confirm the energy of these manuscripts. After UU Reading www.uukánshu.com installed the folder with the folder, he stood up on the table, feeling dizzy. Going straight to the forehead, he staggered and almost didn't fall.

　　 His physique is only 9 points, which is not as good as the average person. In the past few days, he has been exhausted to create, and his physical and mental strength have been exhausted to the limit.

　　 After a while, Harvey went out and gave the manuscript to Shirley, ordered her to make a copy and submit the copy to Leonard Press. He collapsed on the bed, his upper and lower eyelids did not stand up, and every blink made him feel that he would fall into a deep sleep at any time. When he gave the manuscript to Shirley, the mysterious attribute template in his mind sent him a bit of information, and there was a new change.

　　 He was too tired. Before going to bed, he consciously called out the attribute panel in his mind to check the changes.

　　"Harvey Adrian

　　 Physique: 9

　　 Intelligence: 12

　　Charm: 10

　　 Spirit: 12

　　 dexterity: 11

　　Energy: 3/10 (extremely weak)

　　Remaining distribution points: 0

　　 Skills:

　　【Writing】

　　Level: C

　　 Explanation: I am already a qualified writer, even if there are many shortcomings, he can't hide the highlights of the work.

　　 Talent

　　【Magic Talent】

　　 Level: D

　　 Description: It seems that because of the blood of the caster, he is closer to the etheric element than ordinary people. If he learns magic from a young age, he may be able to sense the magic network and become an official spellcaster.

　　 Remaining skill level promotion times: 1 time. "

"Skills seem to be active skills. Talents can be understood as passive skills. Can you raise your skill level once..." Harvey, who was lying on the bed with his eyes squinted, muttered in his mind. He closed his eyes as soon as he could not think about the changes in the attribute panel. Sound asleep.