The new book actually started preparation back in July, but as the readers in the group probably know, it was scrapped and rewritten four times, with over 300,000 words discarded before arriving at the current version.

The preparation for this book was fairly thorough. Edward can’t say there’s full confidence, but writing it felt quite comfortable.

As for the genre, to be precise, it should be a high-martial, low-fantasy, semi-invincible story, with the power ceiling higher than a young lord, but lower than an immortal.

The reason for this approach is that the last book was a shift to xianxia, and the leap was so big it almost tore things apart. I realized a truth—everyone has their strengths, and very few can master all genres. If you haven’t even done well with what you’re good at, but are already thinking of switching to something new, that’s just aiming too high.

So for this book, Edward chose to write about something with more experience and skill, aiming to summarize the strengths of the previous two books, improve on their weaknesses, and create a new book.

The plot is different, and there are new elements, but the style hasn’t changed. Whether you can accept it or not, you’ll get a feel for it during the free period. Whether you continue to support or look for a new book, you’re all friends who have accompanied Edward along the way.

In a flash, it’s been almost three years of writing, and Edward has come to understand a few things.

Just like that joke says, Edward is like a bus, moving forward on its own road, with each book being a stop along the way.

People have different preferences, and those who don’t like the direction won’t get on Edward’s bus—there’s no need to actively recruit.

Friends who got on before may find the next stop isn’t in the right direction, and there will always be a day to get off. It’s hard to let go, but Edward can’t change direction for one person’s preference, nor will there be any attempts to persuade them to stay.

All Edward can do is focus on doing the job well, keep a firm grip on the steering wheel, and keep moving forward on this road.

This way, friends who have gotten bored elsewhere might hop on for a ride and accompany Edward for a while.

Friends who got off midway might remember one day and come back for a look, and Edward will still be here, walking the same road as before.

To be honest, the bus metaphor isn’t quite right—it should be a teahouse, with Edward as the storyteller. That makes more sense.

Suddenly starting a new book is actually a bit nerve-wracking. There’s so much to say, but it’s hard to organize it all at once. For now, I’d like to thank all the brothers and sisters for your support.

Thanks to 【夏日纠结如风】 for the three leader rewards!

Thanks to 【天堂小门】【谪仙zx】【我的鹿叫桃子i】【翻肚鱼】【太后宝宝死忠粉】【这本书真不错QAQ】 for the leader rewards from these six awesome supporters!

Thanks to 【追赶大爱】【剑亦思剑】【心火烛】【画桥东风】【执古之道_致虚守静】【洪雅郭富城】 for the ten-thousand-coin rewards!

Thank you to all the brothers and sisters for your rewards, monthly tickets, recommendations, and collections or2!

Because the last book’s updates were unstable, and the owed chapters weren’t counted, there are still 400 chapters owed, so it’s still one update owed for every 30,000 coins, starting from 426 for now.

Over four hundred chapters, almost the total number of chapters in the last book—it’s really hard to pay it all back, but I can’t default. Edward will pay it back slowly. Everyone, just reward as you feel like; Edward really feels embarrassed to ask.

The update schedule for the new book is the same as before: updated at midnight every day, aiming for uninterrupted updates until the end. I hope I can achieve that.

Once again, thank you all for your tremendous support or2!

------------

Chapter 6: Young Master

Rustle, rustle, rustle...

A gentle drizzle fell into the silent courtyard.

The room was bare, and to make matters worse, “when it rains, it pours”—the situation was truly bleak.

Henry Blake opened an oil-paper umbrella to cover the hole in the roof, lay down hugging his sword, and turned his head to the side—there, a fluffy little bird lay on its back beside the pillow, claws in the air, head tilted, sleeping in a most undignified manner.

Although the silly little bird was mischievous and unreliable most of the time, it had been trained from a young age to “stand guard and scout,” and when it actually got to work, it was never sloppy.

Back when they were on escort missions, the bird always kept watch, and there was never a mishap.

But now, with only one person and one bird, making the bird work both day and night shifts was a bit inhumane. So Henry Blake would sleep for half the night, then get up at dawn to take over, letting the bird rest.

There was no entertainment in this era. In the dead of night, lying alone in the dark was truly a bit lonely.

Henry Blake was eighteen or nineteen, and after years of martial training, it was only natural that at times like this, thoughts of women would arise.

So after lying down for a while, he couldn’t help but picture Grace Collins leaning out the window, and the heavy curve at the front of her robe...

Thinking about it now, it really was... quite big...

Half asleep, half awake, he vaguely heard voices drifting through the rain:

“Eh? Someone’s actually living here? How poor must they be?”

“Probably a scholar rushing to the capital for the exams, too poor to stay at an inn and taking shelter here... Sophia, let’s go...”

...

Henry Blake snapped back to attention, listening carefully—the voices came from the entrance of the alley, and judging by the direction, not from the street, but from above the houses.

It sounded like two women: one a young girl, no older than eighteen; the other with a mature, gentle voice, hard to judge her age, but from the tone, they seemed like mother and daughter.

Henry Blake quietly gripped the sword in his arms and waited. The voices soon faded, rain pattered on a bamboo hat, and the sounds gradually receded.

Seemed like some wandering martial artists looking for a place to stay...

Henry Blake suddenly understood where the hair he’d found while tidying up the bed had come from.