bookpower Chapter 427: 256: Could it be, He's a Genius? (Part 2)_2
Chapter 427: 256: Could it be, He's a Genius? (Part 2)_2
Chapter 427: Chapter 256: Could it be, He’s a Genius? (Part 2)_2
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“Eighty percent of the people saw their childhood; it seems that a person’s aspirations are determined then, and the rest is just imitation. Have you found your ideal yet?”
“Yeah.” Kevin nodded vigorously and said, “I want to be a fairy tale writer.”
“That’s quite a novel idea, but your talent in writing is not bad, you should be able to do it. By the way, have you eaten?”
“I have.”
“Good. Look here, for the next day, you will become someone who cannot live without books.”
“What are you planning to do to me again! No way, I suddenly really want to read a book, if I don’t read a book I’m going to die!”
Having used the “Stimulation,” Xiemen Waidao brought the scratching and clawing Kevin to the prison library, then left with peace of mind.
The books in the library were those they had moved there during this time, including the books of nobles that Tang Mo and others had brought in.
Upon entering, Kevin indulgently sniffed the ink fragrance around him.
He couldn’t wait to pounce on the nearby bookshelf; the previously snooze-inducing books became addicting, each one appearing as a delicious course that one couldn’t help but feast on.
The text in the books was like musical notes, immersing Kevin deeply, intoxicating him in literature for a long time.
When a day had passed and Xiemen Waidao opened the library, he found Kevin still with sparkling eyes, immersed in the ocean of knowledge.
The effects of “Stimulation” were quite formidable, not only immersing a person in the process of receiving knowledge but also making them energetic, with an extraordinary memory and significantly enhanced comprehension abilities.
Looking at Kevin now, Xiemen Waidao lamented how great it would be if such a skill existed in reality.
It would be even better if one could control time, give a child “Stimulation,” and no university would be out of reach.
But on second thought, if everyone were “Stimulated,” it would be like no one was. Other than eliminating a bunch of tutoring institutions, it would be useless and could even make things more competitive.
Thinking it over, it was still an issue of insufficient productive forces. If everyone could set off towards the Starry Sea, who would want to toil away on this tiny broken planet?
While Xiemen Waidao was lost in thought, the effects of “Stimulation” gradually wore off, and Kevin collapsed onto the books, falling into a deep sleep.
This was a common occurrence, so Xiemen Waidao wasn’t surprised; instead, he shouted loudly, “Violent offender!”
Suddenly, a wicked breeze flashed by, and the violent offender, wearing a tightly fitting nun’s robe, pushed the door open and said with a sneer, “Hehehe, I am here!”
“It’s your turn to step in!”
“Don’t worry, Fist of the Living Person!”
The violent offender’s personal Blessing, Fist of the Living Person, could dispel most adverse buffs and even had effects like promoting blood circulation, reducing swelling, and increasing pain relief. One punch could invigorate a person tremendously.
Its only problem was the significant side effect; it was incredibly painful.
But on second thought, Kevin felt quite pleased.
After all, the noble system had already wronged him terribly, and he would never forget how they had tried to use his head for their schemes. It didn’t matter anymore.
Therefore, he stopped worrying about the nobles’ issues and asked instead, “How is Drey doing?”
“He was fine when I left, your wife and children have been taken to the quarry. They will hide there for a while.”
Nodding, Kevin felt this arrangement was good.
The noble who was adept at managing strikes had been dealt with, so there was no need to worry about the safety of the quarry for a while—it should be fine for some time.
Relieved, Kevin decided to start on the important matters at hand.
He asked Tang Mo for a table and, with great enthusiasm, spread out the squared paper in front of him, preparing to write his first story.
But after pondering for a long time, he found he couldn’t write a single word.
Even though he had seen plenty of stories, it was only upon taking up the pen that he realized his mind was filled with a thousand vistas and myriad tender feelings, yet when put to paper, they turned into “It was a red-hot afternoon.”
What the hell, how did such an adjective jump out of his mind!
His colleagues who also wrote articles managed to do so without even adding punctuation, their manuscripts flowing out like water, exceeding their daily quota every day.
What’s going on with your brains!
Seeing that Kevin couldn’t write half a word, Tang Mo consoled him, “Don’t worry, it’s indeed a bit troublesome at the beginning. But it’s okay, just force some words out for starters. Once you have the beginning down, the rest is easy.”
Even though Tang Mo said that, Kevin still found writing incredibly difficult.
He struggled from morning till afternoon, and from afternoon till evening. While others went home, he hadn’t left yet; instead, he sat there, staring hard at the manuscript in front of him.
The next day, when Tang Mo logged on, he found Kevin asleep on the floor to the side.
Shaking his head helplessly, he noticed that Kevin’s manuscript now had an additional five hundred words, clearly the fruit of an entire night’s labor.
With a forced smile, he picked up the manuscript and began to read.
As he read on, the smile on his face gradually faded away, and it seemed as though a tempest was stirring in his heart.
Reading the mere five hundred words over and over again, perhaps five or six times, he finally stuffed the manuscript into his bosom and ran to Liuzi’s room.
Handing the manuscript to Liuzi, he told him, “You have to take a look at this.”
Liuzi took the manuscript with a puzzled expression, and after reading for a while, his face too mirrored an astonished look.
“Is this your new work, Tang Mo?”
“I write about history, the dark and savage I can write, but not this kind. It’s written by Kevin.”
“Kevin? Could it be, he’s a genius?”