Henry Clark curled his lips. Writing a female lead to keep himself company—how perverted is that? Right, all those twisted tricks of the demonic cultivators were written by him. What goes on in his head? So disgusting.

Henry Clark shook his head and walked out of the secondary bedroom again. Standing outside the door, he looked at Brian Carter's back as he wrote. That figure, which could be considered tall, now looked a bit hunched.

He needed to eat...

But it was just for survival.

In the stillness of the night, moonlight as clear as water poured into the living room through the balcony’s floor-to-ceiling windows. The author was writing the female lead, and the female lead stood under the moon, watching him.

“Clang!”

The wall clock pointed exactly to midnight.

Brian Carter snapped awake, only then remembering there was a female lead at home. He turned his head to look, and immediately saw Henry Clark quietly watching him from the hall outside the door.

At some point, the solemn sect leader’s robe had been changed, leaving only a simple moon-white warrior’s tunic. It looked neat and crisp, but made her even more beautiful.

Like a goddess who should have been in a distant palace, descending to the mortal world.

Brian Carter's heart skipped a beat despite himself. He forced himself to sound calm: “Why are you just standing there? You can find something to do yourself.”

Henry Clark replied coolly, “Meditating. Cultivating.”

“That’s true, cultivators are the best at being patient.” Brian Carter stood up and smiled. “You quietly standing by the window, gazing at the moon and thinking of autumn, is already the most beautiful scene in the book.”

Henry Clark didn’t respond to that. After all, the beauty he wrote was never for any good reason—the more beautiful, the more satisfying it would be to conquer.

Truly disgusting.

She simply asked, “What can I do myself? Everything I see is new to me and needs someone to explain. Am I supposed to analyze everything with divine sense and spiritual power like last time? What if I break something…”

She paused, then smiled slightly. “You’re not exactly well-off.”

Brian Carter was in tears.

Isn’t this exactly the woman I poured all my beautiful fantasies into?

This compassion and empathy for ordinary people is the most important part—not looking down on the masses with a cold, godlike detachment just because she’s a cultivator.

And that’s how she treats ordinary people. When it comes to the strong, she can be ruthless.

Who knows if such a woman exists in reality, but ever since she ran out of the book, there is one.

Brian Carter felt even better, thought for a while, then clapped his hands and said, “If you want to understand this world, let’s take a two-pronged approach. To understand the world itself, you can start with history books; to understand the outside reality, you can start by watching dramas.”

So when I’m writing, you’ll be reading or watching shows. Isn’t this a bit like… hmm…

Henry Clark was asking, “I understand reading history books, but what does ‘watching dramas’ mean?”

There was a TV in the living room, provided with the rental. When Brian Carter got the internet installed, he was forced to take a set-top box too, but Brian Carter and David Bolton had never used it—if you want to watch something, just go online. Who watches TV anymore? Besides, they didn’t watch many shows anyway. Do Japanese adult videos count?

Brian Carter turned on the TV, feeling a bit awkward. He didn’t know what show would be appropriate to recommend.

He randomly clicked something just to test if it worked…

As soon as the theme song started playing, Henry Clark’s cold voice came from beside him: “Is this… a Shadow Mirror? Or is it soul-capturing, imprisoning spirits?”

Your imagination is wild. Brian Carter wiped his sweat. Luckily, he’d written about Shadow Mirror-type artifacts before, so it wasn’t hard to explain: “Yes, it’s a Shadow Mirror. It’s like recording a stage performance and broadcasting it for people far away to watch.”

Henry Clark was stunned: “Such a rare and precious treasure, used for such trivial things?”

“…Just think of it as something so common here it’s everywhere.”

“But the people in this Shadow Mirror are dressed more like me. Are you sure this is the real world outside?”

Only then did Brian Carter notice this was an adaptation of some online novel. He couldn’t help but laugh: “Clicked the wrong thing… But this is actually interesting for us, because it’s like a book of mine being adapted for the stage. If someone liked my book and turned it into a show, we could see someone else playing you.”

“I don’t want anyone else playing me.” Henry Clark retorted, but she was now interested in watching others act out something like Brian Carter’s book. What would it look like on stage?

But after less than three minutes, Henry Clark’s face turned as black as the bottom of a pot.

The show opened with a man and a woman rolling around in bed, kissing passionately. The man tore at the woman’s clothes, revealing her fair shoulders and beautiful collarbone.

Brian Carter stared in shock and backed away.

I never expected this! What kind of show is this? Is the set-top box about to become a porn machine?

We web novel authors can’t even write a kissing scene without getting censored, and you’re showing this?

Henry Clark’s voice was as cold as winter frost: “So you wrote me just for this?”

Chapter Twelve: The Divine Drama Does Its Job

Brian Carter’s face turned purple with embarrassment.

That’s right, I did write you for this. Maybe even for what comes after.

Because originally, I put myself in the protagonist’s shoes—I wanted to do this with you.

There’s no way to plead innocence, even if I were beaten to death.

But now… I can’t put myself in that role anymore.