The position of guild president couldn't be resigned yet, but someone could temporarily take over. Kane was undoubtedly the best choice; Alan would feel completely at ease with him acting as president.
Of course, Alan wouldn't tell Haina this thought. If she knew he even considered it, she'd definitely break his legs.
"Alan, forget about writing novels. You don't have that talent. Let's focus on selling that big sword in the corner as a divine artifact instead."
Haina wasn't underestimating Alan—he truly lacked that gift. If he wrote another book like *The Princess and Her Seven Men*, the Cloud Peak Guild would become a laughingstock. After all, the novel Alan wrote at age ten was an adult one.
Haina's disbelief left Alan feeling slightly downcast. It was all his fault—for writing *The Princess and Her Seven Men* back then. Now, in her eyes, he was just a washed-up writer of trashy novels.
No, he absolutely couldn't let Haina think he only wrote lowbrow stories. Joking aside, his mind held classics, literary works, tragic tales, profound sagas, martial arts epics, mythologies, cultivation novels, and magical fantasies—he could write any genre.
His task now was to change Haina's view of him as merely a writer of cheap fiction.
Alan looked at Haina, his dark eyes unusually serious. "Haina, believe me. I can truly write an epic-level novel bards will sing about—even a masterpiece-level one."
Haina snorted. "Like I'd believe that. If you churn out another trashy novel, how will the Cloud Peak Guild survive in Newdali City?"
"Emma believes in Alan! Alan can definitely write a novel bards will sing about." Emma lifted her chin proudly, a strand of blue ahoge bobbing on her head.
"I also believe in Alan, you know," Bacas Medi said, gliding elegantly to his side. She leaned down and whispered in his ear with a light laugh, "After seeing those thick books at your home last night, I knew you were a literature lover with deep knowledge."
*Scratch, scratch, scratch!* Alan winced at the bar counter. This was century-old jade wood—one meter cost a hundred gold coins! Now, Haina had gouged ten deep marks into it. "Haina, be gentle. I'm worried... about your hands."
*Hmph!* Worried about her hands? He was really fretting over the scratched jade wood. What a clueless idiot about women's hearts.
"Fine, you want to write a novel? Okay—but only in Newdali City's *Magic Weekly*. No small newspapers. And I review every draft first. Deal?"
*Magic Weekly* was the Leo Kingdom's most authoritative official paper. Only mages qualified to publish novels there; commoners didn't stand a chance.
Novels by commoners had no place in *Magic Weekly*. They could only appear in ordinary papers for casual reading.
Why only mages? Many adventure or intense novels featured powerful mages, requiring accurate magical knowledge. *Magic Weekly* rejected made-up spells.
Worth noting: in the Leo Kingdom, fictional adventure novels and hero biographies were popular. Forbidden romances between nobles and commoners also sold well—but those were romance novels, loved only by sentimental, delicate-hearted girls.
By limiting Alan to *Magic Weekly*, Haina restricted his options. Genres like mythology, cultivation sagas, or superpower stories were impossible. Even brilliant writing wouldn't get published there—though other papers might bite.
"Deal!" Alan nodded without hesitation.
Haina's terms hit the bullseye. His planned novel was an epic, grand-scale masterpiece—exactly the kind for the Leo Kingdom's top paper: *Magic Weekly*!
Alan had several magical epics in mind, like the bestseller *Harry Potter* by a female author. In his past life, it was a global phenomenon—calling it a masterpiece was no exaggeration.
But it was a series. Writing it would take ages. Worse, Alan had only watched the *Harry Potter* movies; he'd finished just one book.
In his mind, watching movies counted as knowing classics. After all, films adapted novels—wasn't watching the same as reading?
After careful thought, *Harry Potter* didn't fit this world. He crossed it off. Then another novel surfaced—one he also considered a masterpiece.
It was called *Mercenary World*, truly epic in scale.
Told through three young mercenaries' eyes, it depicted a world-shaking war spanning multiple continents and over a dozen nations. Flames even reached the Divine Realm!
Most importantly, its races existed here too. Perfect—readers would feel deeply immersed.
After weighing it all, Alan decided. This was it: *Mercenary World*!
Relief washed over him. Next, he'd use magic to pull the novel's gist from his memory.
Memorizing millions of words verbatim was impossible—even with magic, he could only extract the core and creatively adapt it.
After all, he lacked a system. With that cheat, he might copy it perfectly. Sadly, no system—he'd blend *Mercenary World* with this world, keeping only its essence.
*Phew!* Alan exhaled, a bright smile lighting his face. This novel would clear his deadbeat dad and grandpa's massive debts.
After debts, the leftover gold should cover the Cloud Peak Guild's costs for three to four years. As for him? Heh, he'd travel the Mystic Cloud Continent. His grandpa's arranged fiancée? He wouldn't voice his true thoughts—it'd hurt. Anyway, he was leaving to travel after paying debts, not to flee marriage.
...
