Chapter 24: An Luo, What Will You Choose?

“I didn’t mean it that way.”

An Luo was startled by Meieruita’s reaction.

He looked at Meieruita in bewilderment, unsure why he had suddenly become so furious.

Couldn’t he even say that one sentence? His temper was so explosive?

He remembered that in the story he wrote, Meieruita rarely got angry.

After all, anger was still an emotion, utterly pointless from a practical standpoint, and it could even cloud rational judgment.

Instead of getting angry, it was better to take action and nip the problem in the bud.

But Meieruita wasn’t made of wood; he would get angry eventually, and when he did, the consequences were dire.

As the saying went, when the Son of Heaven raged, millions would lie dead.

Meieruita was the protagonist of the novel, the true Child of Destiny, more fitting of the title than any emperor in the real world.

Pretty much anyone who displeased him met a bad end.

And the root cause of this phenomenon: the author, An Luo.

An Luo: “…”

Fine, so this was karma coming back around?

An Luo didn’t want to clash head-on with Meieruita, so he quickly said, “I was just talking casually. Don’t take it to heart.”

After all, his life was still in the man’s hands. If they failed to reach an understanding, Meieruita could just destroy the Little Wooden Puppet, and An Luo would be done for.

“So, you don’t want to deal with John, right?”

Meieruita said coldly, “You trust him, handing him such a major secret, and it doesn’t make you uneasy at all?”

An Luo felt like he had already tested the waters and gotten his answer.

Meieruita truly harbored strong resentment toward John.

It was intense enough that Meieruita seemed to want to eliminate him right then and there.

John had no grudge against Meieruita, yet the man bore such heavy hostility toward him. It was probably just as An Luo had guessed earlier—John’s existence threatened Meieruita’s interests.

Think about it: Meieruita had meticulously set up this situation mainly to leave An Luo isolated and helpless, but An Luo wasn’t playing along. Instead of wanting to deal with John, he expressed trust in him.

From Meieruita’s perspective, John was an eyesore.

What a headache.

An Luo quickly decided on his next move.

He resolved to go along with Meieruita’s wishes.

If he insisted on sticking with John, the two of them together wouldn’t stand a chance against even one finger from Meieruita.

An Luo might survive temporarily due to his utility value, but John probably wouldn’t be so lucky.

Meieruita was the protagonist; squashing a mere cannon fodder like John would be effortless.

An Luo didn’t want to get John killed.

Besides, following Meieruita’s plan wasn’t so bad. As long as his own value remained, things would be relatively easy for him.

Moreover, in a little over half a year, the Wizard Tower’s apprentice exam would begin.

When that happened, Meieruita would advance while An Luo stayed put, naturally putting distance between them.

“You make a good point,” An Luo said, as if persuaded by Meieruita. He frowned. “John is a good person, but he is a bit reckless. If he accidentally leaks my secret, even unintentionally, that would still be dangerous.”

Meieruita showed no visible change, but his tone softened noticeably. “Mm.”

He still seemed somewhat dissatisfied, but seeing An Luo starting to come around, he didn’t press further.

“So, what do you plan to do?” he asked softly.

“A contract,” An Luo said. “I’ll go to Alden and buy one, making John promise not to reveal my secret. What do you think?”

Seeing that Meieruita wasn’t fully on board with the idea, An Luo quickly added, “Of course, this incident happened because I didn’t think things through.”

The gray-green eyes stared quietly at An Luo.

An Luo continued, “I think it’s best if I reduce contact with John, but the problem is, if I don’t go to him, how will I handle my future tasks?”

“No need to worry about that,” Meieruita said. “I’ll handle it.”

An Luo thought, As expected, exactly as I reasoned!

Outwardly, he still feigned doubt. “You? Why?”

Falling for it too quickly might arouse suspicion, so he had to pretend a bit longer.

“Because I’m the protagonist,” Meieruita said. “According to you, this entire world exists for me, doesn’t it?”

An Luo: “…?”

Huh?

What was he talking about?

Meieruita had answered a different question entirely, leaving An Luo confused.

I clearly asked why you’re stepping in to help, so what does that mean?

Whatever, the details weren’t important.

An Luo nodded in agreement. “That’s true.”

He thought for a moment and added, “In five years, you’ll gain control of this Wizard Tower. At that time, if John wants to leave, you can release the contract and let him use Return Home. Would that be okay?”

“He’s not suited to be a wizard. The wizard world is too cruel, and he wants to go back to being an ordinary person.”

By making this request, he could divert Meieruita’s attention for now and implicitly ensure John’s survival.

An Luo watched Meieruita carefully, worried he might refuse.

But Meieruita nodded without much hesitation, agreeing to An Luo’s request. “Alright. If I truly gain this Wizard Tower and he wants to leave, I’ll let him go.”

An Luo breathed a sigh of relief.

Clearly, the key was him.

Once An Luo indicated he wouldn’t continue associating with John, the latter would no longer be in Meieruita’s way, so the man became indifferent toward him.

As for agreeing so readily, it was probably some kind of “soft approach.”

Whatever. An Luo wasn’t falling for it.

He had figured it out.

Even if he kept grouping up with John, what then? Did that mean Meieruita couldn’t deal with them?

In the end, Meieruita might just take them both out in one go.

By going with the flow now, An Luo secured short-term safety without dragging John down due to his own weakness.

Until Meieruita decided to act against him, it was his safe period.

Meieruita would even put on a friendly facade for “soft approach” purposes.

Even if An Luo made some slightly over-the-top requests, Meieruita would agree.

All in all, it wasn’t bad.

“So, where’s John now?” An Luo asked.

“I’ve tied him up in my dormitory,” Meieruita replied. “Don’t worry. Until I release the ropes, he can’t do anything.”

“That’s good.”

An Luo nodded, feeling a twinge of silent guilt toward John for a few seconds for getting him involved.

“It’s getting late,” An Luo said. “It’s too late to go to Alden now, so we’ll have to wait until tomorrow.”

He suggested, “Thanks for saving me. Why don’t you eat here tonight? Is there anything you’d like?”

It was a Flower Country habit to treat someone to a meal, trouble or not.

Meieruita said, “Whatever you decide is fine with me.”

The atmosphere had eased considerably, no longer as tense as before.

“I’ll go back and grab some things,” Meieruita said. “It’s not safe for you to live alone.”

“Can I move in here?”

An Luo thought, This is surveillance at close range. What could he say? He nodded. “Sure.”

“You’re so powerful; living with you makes me feel much safer,” An Luo said, half politely and half sincerely.

Indeed, though Meieruita himself was a threat, staying with him was far safer than living alone.

“Mm.” Meieruita seemed to be in a good mood. “I’ll be back soon.”

Meieruita pushed open the door and saw John, bound and tossed in the corner. His mood was quite pleasant.

This useless wretch had already fainted, like a fish delivered to the kitchen, ready to be slaughtered.

Meieruita had plenty of ways to end this poor fool’s life without the Wizard Tower ever tracing it back.

But never mind.

His original plan had been bloodier, but since An Luo had decided to abandon this guy, letting him live didn’t matter.

It was perfect, actually. John’s struggles, frailty, and uselessness could be showcased even more vividly.

He packed away his most important books and tidied up roughly. Then, he took out the Little Wooden Puppet to inspect it.

With a deft press of his fingers, the seemingly solid puppet split into two halves. Inside the hollow was an even smaller wooden puppet, with a thin strand of hair wrapped around its neck.

This hair was something he’d taken from An Luo back when the latter had dozed off exhausted in a chair.

The smaller wooden puppet emanated a faint, unusual aura.

He gazed at it for a moment, then smiled faintly and sealed the puppet shut again, tightly.

There was no such thing as a veteran apprentice secretly spying on An Luo. It was merely a deception Meieruita had concocted upon noticing inconsistencies in An Luo’s memories of the “plot.”

It had started as a test.

When An Luo had said, somewhat bitterly, “Lan Lian shouldn’t have died at night,” Meieruita had keenly sensed something off.

From An Luo’s tone, it seemed he didn’t believe Lan Lian’s death was Meieruita’s doing.

At first, Meieruita thought the “plot” had glitches, or perhaps his own actions deviated from it by dealing with Lan Lian early. But later, he realized it was likely just An Luo misremembering.

According to An Luo, to make his story more engaging, he’d rewritten the opening many times for the “golden three chapters.”

“Do you remember this veteran apprentice?” Meieruita had asked impassively.

“No,” An Luo had frowned in frustration. “There shouldn’t be any such plot point. Weird, is it a natural development…?”

Meieruita had listened as he reviewed: “Let me think. I changed Lan Lian’s death several times because he was the first cannon fodder to face retribution, a key plot for establishing character. It had to highlight your personality during the revenge and feel satisfying and cathartic… Uh, the timing, method, whether day or night—it all varied. Which version did I finalize? It was two years ago…”

Later, he’d heard An Luo say, “If John hadn’t introduced himself, I wouldn’t have even remembered his name.”

Makes sense. According to An Luo, it was a multi-million-word epic; forgetting details was normal.

Meieruita immediately realized he could exploit An Luo’s fuzzy “plot” memories to steer things in his favor.

That fabricated “veteran apprentice” was a prime example.

Rather than correcting An Luo’s errors, he’d gone along with it, spinning a seemingly logical inference.

The one who’d targeted Lan Lian early was a money-grubbing “veteran apprentice.”

It planted a hidden threat in An Luo’s mind, forcing him to lean on Meieruita.

People instinctively sought shelter in danger.

The only variable was John, popping up out of nowhere.

His appearance gave An Luo another option besides Meieruita.

Most absurdly, this worthless John had somehow won An Luo’s favor.

A cannon fodder… whose place in An Luo’s heart was faintly surpassing the protagonist himself.

I am the protagonist, the being he spent millions of words crafting.

John’s total word count was probably under a thousand.

Since this cannon fodder was meant to die anyway, what was wrong with Meieruita sending him off?

Thus, the “veteran apprentice” reappeared.

The Curse activated, An Luo fainted, and Meieruita timed his entrance perfectly.

John had seen what he shouldn’t, uncovered what he shouldn’t.

Now, An Luo’s former reliance had become a threat. An Luo, what would you choose?

Would you beg me to eliminate this liability?

But the outcome wasn’t ideal. An Luo hadn’t, as Meieruita imagined, chosen to kill John to protect his secret.

He put away the Little Wooden Puppet.

Curses came in many forms; he’d merely put An Luo to sleep with a mark on his hand.

It posed no real harm, fully compliant with their contract.

Although An Luo was the author, he only knew the “plot” and some things related to it. He wasn’t like a true creator god who had intimate knowledge of everything in this world.

Therefore, it was very easy for Meieruita to deceive him.

As long as Meieruita used things and methods that didn’t appear in the plot, An Luo would be utterly at a loss.

For example, this “curse.”

In truth, it was merely a curse that Meieruita had researched himself. It did no harm to people at all and was, in the strictest sense, a failed product.

He lowered his gaze with a smile, book in hand, and left his dormitory.

The door slammed shut with a bang.