317: Chapter 317 The Ultimate Siphon, the Island of Despair

An electronic beep "dinged" and faded.

The lingering echo of the female announcer saying "Please enter in an orderly fashion" still reverberated through the high-ceilinged hall.

Along with a faint mechanical hum, the massive electric glass doors slowly slid open to both sides.

Outside was already a sea of people, with countless pairs of bloodshot eyes staring fixedly at the gradually widening gap between the doors.

As soon as the glass doors slid open a crack, the clamor of the crowd squeezed in first.

Those in the front row hadn't even found their footing before they were swept forward by the massive thrust from behind.

The isolation barriers let out a piercing metallic screech as they were instantly pushed to the ground.

The sound of chaotic footsteps instantly filled the entire first-floor lobby.

Immediately after, an extremely absurd scene unfolded.

On the right side, Fu Zhi Yao Competition signing area was covered with a red carpet and set with nameplates.

Nine students and several staff members sat behind the platform, waiting for the launch ceremony.

But not a single person spared a glance in this direction.

All the readers who rushed in sprinted at a hundred-meter dash pace, frantically lunging toward the ordinary world's exclusive booth on the left.

"Don't push! Be careful not to fold the corners of the books!"

"I want this whole stack; my coworkers at the factory pooled their money and asked me to buy them on their behalf!"

"I'm an old fan of Jian Shen, don't fight me for the first edition!"

The fanatical readers' actions were crude to the extreme.

They boisterously grabbed the physical books with earthy-yellow covers from the 3D displays and clutched them tightly to their chests.

A male college student wearing glasses scooped up five or six copies in one go, holding them tight under his arms, fearing he'd be too slow and they'd be snatched away by someone nearby.

A middle-aged man in work clothes next to him was not to be outdone.

His rough, large hands pressed directly onto a stack of books, dragging and pulling them into his canvas bag for protection.

Two young people refused to give in to each other over the last shrink-wrapped physical book in front of the display until a staff member quickly restocked.

Those who managed to grab a book immediately held their phones high, their screens all lit up with their exclusive IDs from the New Tide APP.

"I'm among the first five thousand for the serialized version! Where's my limited edition postcard!"

"This is the ID, hurry up and redeem it for me."

Roars and urgings intertwined; the powerful air conditioning on the bookstore's first floor couldn't suppress the dry heat radiating from the crowd.

Unfortunately, it wasn't even ten o'clock yet.

The sales key for ordinary world hadn't been released yet, so the checkout counters couldn't process payments.

Consequently, the line for checkout rapidly lengthened, winding all the way,

reaching the entrance of the restrooms a hundred meters away, and it was still folding and extending.

Over a dozen security guards in black, arms linked to form a human wall, fought desperately to maintain order.

In contrast, look at the corner on the right.

Red carpet on the floor, nameplates shining.

Eight genius youths representing the highest level of Huaxia's youth literature were currently all stunned by this scene, which could only be described as a riot.

Liu Yu took a deep breath and pushed the rimless glasses on the bridge of his nose, trying to hide the slight trembling of his fingertips.

His brain, which had always been known for its rigor, couldn't squeeze out even a single excuse for self-consolation at this moment.

He gave a bitter laugh, his voice dry:

"Don't look. With a siphon effect of this magnitude, not even a drop of water will leak to our side.

Today... we most likely won't sell a single copy.

Watching it will only make us feel worse."

After speaking, he glanced somewhat worriedly at Lin Que, who was sitting in the center seat.

In his view, the sense of disparity faced by this national champion, who was highly anticipated by the authorities, was undoubtedly devastating.

Once these words were spoken, the high school students who had been shocked by the scene all sat back inside the booth.

Tang He, who always prided herself on being calm, pressed her folded hands tightly onto the tabletop.

Her gaze was fixed on the electronic clock on the wall,

Although her reason told her Liu Yu was right, her heart still held onto a final sliver of unwilling expectation.

For her, sales were secondary,

She only yearned for her words to be seen by even just one person.

In contrast, look at the champion among them sitting in the center seat, Lin Que.

He was leaning back against the chair with his long legs crossed,

His right hand held a single black sign pen, the barrel spinning rapidly between his fingertips, creating several afterimages.

Lin Que's gaze crossed the red carpet, looking at the dozens of displays opposite him.

He had to admit,

As a professional publisher, Wang De'an was indeed a master of manipulation.

Once he had a king bomb product in hand, he could use extreme lighting, security, and hunger marketing to push the atmosphere of the scene to a religious-like frenzy.

Even Lin Que, the original author sitting here watching,

felt an urge to rush over and buy two copies of the books he had written himself.

He withdrew his gaze, his eyes sweeping over the dejected youths beside him.

Lin Que gently placed the sign pen on the table, making a faint clicking sound.

Looking at this group of peers, a subtle sense of absurdity and appreciation rose in his heart.

This was the most authentic commercial market,

There was no tenderness, only cold data and absolute crushing power.

However, despite being hit hard, this group of seventeen and eighteen-year-old youths still sat upright at the signing table.

No matter how bad their faces looked or how lonely their eyes were, not a single person chose to get up and be a deserter.

To be able to stay in the center of this storm that could destroy one's self-confidence,

to endure the embarrassment of being ignored and stubbornly uphold the last bit of dignity belonging to a man of letters,

this group of literary seedlings carefully selected by the authorities,

Their backbones weren't too soft; they lived up to Chairman Lu's encouragement.

Time was stretched infinitely in the agonizing silence.

The flashes on the opposite side intertwined like daylight, and the ripping sound of plastic wrap being torn and the cheers of those who got the books were deafening.

Meanwhile, on the red carpet on the right,

even the Writers Association staff member responsible for reception awkwardly lowered their head to fiddle with their phone.

After enduring thirty full minutes of torment...

The terrifying flow of people on the left finally managed to stabilize, no longer crashing around like headless flies.

Those who had grabbed books obediently went to join the bottomless long line,

Readers who hadn't managed to grab limited-edition merchandise simply sat on the floor, surrounding the area and hungrily leafing through the sample books.

Hundreds of people spontaneously built a thick human wall, shielding the booth on the left so tightly that not even water could pass through.

But not even a peripheral glance was spared for the table covered in red cloth on the right.

Time quietly slipped toward 9:40 AM.

Only twenty minutes remained until the official start of sales in the signing area on the right.

Just as the clamor in the hall reached its peak and everyone thought Fu Zhi Yao Competition booth was destined to end in a dismal failure with zero sales today,

outside the main entrance of the bookstore,

a burst of uniform and extremely dense footsteps abruptly pierced through the glass doors.

Those footsteps didn't sound like individual customers, but more like a well-trained team,

approaching the hall with an extremely oppressive rhythm.

...