Fantasy Writers 1860

"One-thirty-twoths of a demi-human? Isn't that ridiculous? What's the difference between him and a normal human?" Dorian exclaimed as he looked at the news in the newspaper.

"That's right. The newspaper said he even drove away his wife, who was one-sixty-fourths of a demi-human, without hesitation. How heartless!" said Margaret, the librarian beside Dorian.

After that little unpleasant moment at the book club, he's now getting along very well with all the librarians.

The entire staff of the Taiwan Creative Content Agency consists of intellectuals, who are generally liberal and have a more moderate attitude towards Ajin (demons). Some even support the Ajin equality movement.

Therefore, these people naturally felt very uncomfortable when they saw this kind of news, especially the so-called demi-humans who were victims in the news, whose bloodline had become so diluted that they were completely indistinguishable from humans in appearance.

In other words, it's hard to say whether Professor Langdon's so-called "new bloodline screening method" is reliable at all.

Who knows, he might really be a psychopathic killer who just wants to kill people and then tries to portray himself as a guardian of humanity to gain the support of extreme human supremacists and exonerate himself?

"Isn't he a researcher of magical technology? As far as I know, shouldn't research like bloodline screening be something that biologists or anthropologists do?" a librarian asked doubtfully.

"Yeah, he's a researcher of magical technology, what does he know about biology? I think his so-called new bloodline screening method is just a smokescreen..." another librarian said.

Dorian didn't join the conversation for the time being because he felt he had heard the name in the newspaper somewhere before.

However, he couldn't recall where he had heard the name before; his thoughts drifted to a rather interesting but obscure novel he had read in his previous life:

"Foolish Wilson"

This is a relatively unknown work by Mark Twain, and many people may not have heard of it, but a famous quote from it is much more well-known:

October is the most dangerous month for stock trading; other dangerous months include July, January, September, April, November, May, March, June, December, August, and February.

Mark Twain himself was a jinx in the investment world, investing in a series of strange things such as carpet pattern machines, fire extinguishing grenades, and protein powder. Of course, in the end, all of them failed and he lost a lot of money.

Later, when Alexander Bell approached him to solicit investment, he said he "did not want to have anything to do with unverified speculation anymore."

That's right, Alexander Graham Bell is the one who invented the telephone.

This was the closest Mark Twain ever came to investment success in his life.

He also started his own business, opened a publishing house, which went bankrupt. He also bought stocks at high prices and sold them at low prices. This writer, who came from a middle-class family and received astronomical royalties, went bankrupt in an era when technology and society were developing explosively, opportunities were everywhere, and gold was everywhere.

As for why I thought of this book? Because the protagonist of this book is also a female slave named Roxanne, who is only one-sixteenth black. In order for her son, who is one-thirty-twoth black, to escape his slave fate, she switched her master's child with her own son in the cradle.

Thus, her later master Tom was actually her real son, while her master's real child, Chambu, was reduced to a slave.

Tom grew up in a privileged environment, but he was lazy and uneducated, and developed a gambling addiction. To pay off his gambling debts, he constantly stole from the town while dressed as a woman. Finally, when he was caught stealing money from his uncle, he brutally murdered the uncle who had raised him for more than ten years and fled in the night.

At the very last moment of the court trial, Wilson, who had studied law, used fingerprints to uncover the truth about Roxanne's baby swap years ago, brought Tom to justice, and restored Chambu's white identity.

This book criticizes racism, refutes and satirizes absurd theories about bloodlines, and ultimately uses fingerprint technology to reveal the truth, making it quite like a detective novel.

It's quite an interesting work, and it's a good opportunity to capitalize on current trending topics, so...

I'm sorry, Lao Ma.

Dorian silently expressed his apology in his heart.

Just to be on the safe side, I'll continue using Mr. Hakimi's pen name this time.

However, this can't go on forever. The pseudonym Mr. Hakimi is used to publish some potentially controversial and uncomfortable works, so that the grand masterpieces can be reserved for his real name.

But right now, his true identity is still completely unknown.

Moreover, although he now possesses the original text of the illusory book, he is also a public official working at the Academy of Literature and Art, so in theory, he should not have to worry about his safety.

However, the existence of the cult far exceeded his initial expectations. Although they still appeared harmless on the surface, it was almost obvious that they were up to no good behind the scenes.

If you really want to cause trouble, figuring out that Mr. Hakimi is yourself isn't that difficult.

As for simply avoiding the cult and not provoking them?

According to them, anything they dislike is "filth." Today it's demi-human, but who knows if tomorrow it might be a writer like themselves?

Who knows when you might accidentally provoke them?

If you're a thief for a thousand days, how can you guard against thieves for a thousand days?

Besides starting a new series, "Foolish Wilson," it's time to create some more powerful fantasy books.

But how do I know which fantasy book is more powerful?

Dorian began to ponder. Judging from the fantasy manuscripts of "The Million Pound Note" and the previous Soviet jokes, the power of fantasy books was closely related to their content. Could he deduce what kind of fantasy book he needed to write based on the power he desired...?

……

Evening, Londinion, 2 Whitehall Square, Great Scotland Yard.

A man in a police uniform, carrying a briefcase, hurried toward the end of the street, finally stopping in front of a tall, classical building, catching his breath slightly.

He looked up at the wrought iron sign hanging on the simple arched gate: it was an abstract crown, below which was a star-studded medal with inscriptions around it and three letters in the center.

This is the headquarters of the Londinion Police Department, which also has a more common name: Scotland Yard.

"Hello, I have a report here from the Chief Superintendent of the Tannhäuser District, which needs to be submitted to Assistant Commissioner Curtis Whitman. It's urgent and important intelligence." The man carrying the briefcase showed his identification to the doorman standing guard at the entrance.

The security guard checked him and, finding nothing amiss, let him in.

He wasn't qualified to meet someone of Curtis's rank, so after entering the lobby and reporting his purpose to the receptionist, he took out a brown paper bag from his briefcase, handed it to them, and they passed it on.

The report went through several hands before finally reaching the door of the "Assistant Director's Office" on the 5th floor.

"Assistant Commissioner Curtis, there is a report from the Chief Superintendent of the Tannhäuser District, marked as important intelligence." The clerk placed the report on the assistant commissioner's desk.

"I understand, you can leave now," Curtis said coldly.

He didn't seem to care much about the document bag stamped with "Urgent Important Intelligence," leaving it aside for a long time before finally opening it to take a look.

"Regarding the connection between the recent activities of the Immaculate Dawn Order and some cases..." Curtis read it carefully, word by word.

"It's about the Order again..." He shoved the report back into his hand, got up, went to the fireplace, and casually tossed the entire file folder into the fire.

In an instant, the flames in the fireplace flickered even more fiercely.

"It seems the plan needs to be moved up. Some people are already starting to have doubts..." Curtis frowned, then turned around and glanced at the clock behind him.

"The Director should have arrived in Ifgardenburg by now, right? The banquet is about to begin..."