“Not surprising, those two rivals have been at it for two years now. Every time, they release new albums on the same day. Both are top singers in the country, yet they insist on fighting to the bitter end. Honestly, I’m looking forward to their new songs,” my deskmate replied.

“Do they have a grudge against each other?”

“No idea. The two of them were high school classmates. Rumor has it they even dated back in high school, but broke up after going to college. No one knows why they broke up, but it must’ve been serious!”

“Each of their last albums sold over 8 million copies! There was no clear winner, so who knows what’ll happen this time.”

“We’ll see whose songs sound better.”

“Next month, Sophie Harris is coming to Luocheng for a concert. I really want to go!”

“Tickets are so expensive, I can’t afford it.”

“Silly, just pester your dad to buy them for you. He spoils you so much, and it’s not like you’re spending money on something bad.”

Henry Carter was listening from behind, thinking to himself, over 8 million copies—that’s no small number. In his previous life, these two would’ve been superstar singers.

Of course, it also had to do with this world’s strong copyright protection. After all, copyright isn’t just about protecting literature.

That night, after Henry Carter finished a 6,000-word mini-climax, the protagonist of the divine novel had once again crushed his enemies using the techniques gained from the divine book. Just then, The Wealthy Drunkard suddenly left a comment: “Not enough, is there any way to get more chapters?”

Henry Carter’s eyes lit up—this was a sign of a tip coming! He was just about to reply, “Of course, for every 10,000 coins, I’ll add a chapter,” when he saw The Wealthy Drunkard comment again: “No reply means yes. Let’s say one alliance equals one extra chapter. Here’s 5 extra chapters to start!”

Damn, Henry Carter was stunned. He’d never enjoyed the treatment of “one alliance, one extra chapter” before. Back when he used to write, things were nowhere near this good. Then he saw a notification in his author’s backend: Drunkard tipped 500,000 Shengshi coins!

You have to know, on Shengshi Chinese Web, 100 coins = 1 yuan, so that’s 5,000 yuan in his account! And on Shengshi Chinese Web, tips don’t get split with the site—only subscriptions do. All this money goes straight to Henry Carter.

Although there’s still some time before settlement, and the money isn’t in Henry Carter’s hands yet, it looks great! He’s in a great mood!

Doesn’t matter, 5 extra chapters it is. At Henry Carter’s current speed, where he can churn out plot without even thinking, 5 chapters is just over 4 hours of work. Now’s the time for a newcomer to rise—he has to seize every opportunity.

After finishing those five chapters, Drunkard still wasn’t satisfied: “Any more?”

Henry Carter quickly replied: “No more, no more… time to sleep…”

“Oh… then we’ll talk tomorrow!”

Henry Carter let out a long breath. He finally felt like he’d landed a big spender. As it turned out, for the next 7 days, Drunkard requested 5 extra chapters every day, and whether or not Henry Carter agreed, the tip was sent anyway. Henry Carter had nothing to say—every day he got a tip, he added chapters, and he was exhausted, but in those 7 days, he made a solid 40,000 yuan!

40,000 yuan—Henry Carter had never made that much in 7 days before.

On the seventh day, Drunkard suddenly left a comment in the book review section: “After a week, reading every day has been awesome. With this update volume, it’ll be hard not to become a hit. Author, you’ve worked hard. Keep it up—there’s a big gift waiting when you go premium!”

A big gift? A big spender’s promise of a big gift was really something to look forward to. But there was one problem: most authors go premium at around 200,000 to 350,000 words, but he hadn’t even gotten a single recommendation yet and had already exploded to over 100,000 words. By the time all the recommendations were done, wouldn’t he be at 400,000 or 500,000 words?

Others start charging at 200,000 words, but he’d only start at 500,000. It’s obvious who’s getting the short end of the stick.

He messaged his editor, Owen Blake, to express his concerns, but Blake just said not to worry, he’d take care of it. As for what he’d do, he didn’t say—just told him to wait for news.

His update volume had even caught the attention of other authors, who were discussing it in their small group: “With the update rate of the divine book, won’t he hit 500,000 words before going premium? He hasn’t even gotten a single recommendation yet, and there are at least four, one per week, so that’s four weeks.”

“Exactly. He’s a newbie author, no experience. He doesn’t know that even if you update, you have to pace yourself.”

“Haha, don’t be fooled by him landing a rich fan. With this word count, the tips can’t make up for the money he’s losing.”

“Should we add him to the group? Maybe he’ll become a hit with this book, and it’ll be good to get along in the future?”

“No way, what’s the point of adding someone who writes lowbrow novels? It’s beneath us.”

“Forget it, then.”

To be honest, these authors who always championed serious literature really did look down on someone like Henry Carter who wrote lowbrow novels. As the saying goes, “There’s no first place in literature, but there is in martial arts”—writers have always looked down on each other.

When these authors saw the divine book, their first instinct was to nitpick, not to enjoy the thrill of the story.

But Henry Carter didn’t know about their discussions, nor had he ever thought about joining such author groups. If he knew what they thought, he’d probably wonder, “What are these grown men being so pretentious for? I’m just here to make money!”

After adding the extra chapters, he went out for a night run. For him, writing novels was just a means of survival, not some form of art, and he had no intention of elevating it to that level.