74: This work is the inspiration I provided for him.

Residence 761.

On the desk, five books borrowed from the Third Floor Area were neatly arranged on the right-hand side.

Ronan held another book in his hands, completely immersed in it.

As he read, the book of magical knowledge in his mind continuously recorded relevant information.

The characters related to soul magic on the pages grew increasingly numerous.

With his previous experience with Spiritual Fear,

Ronan felt that after finishing all six books, he should be confident in having the book of magical knowledge generate a new magic spell, specifically one related to the soul.

However, for him, a new spell was just the icing on the cake.

His main goal was still to understand knowledge about the soul.

He always had a feeling.

No matter what methods he currently possessed, the soul was the foundation of one's existence.

Only when his own soul strengthened would new changes appear in the Divine Spark, Divine Hall, and other external enhancements.

Before that, accumulating relevant knowledge was like laying the foundation of a tall building; the more solid the foundation, the more potential for the future.

The more Ronan thought about it, the more he felt his future was promising.

Then, he reached out, grabbed a piece of bread from the desk, took a few bites, washed it down with some water, and swallowed it hastily.

That counted as finishing his breakfast, lunch, and dinner for the day.

To be honest, the food at the Arcane Arts Society couldn't compare to his previous life, but it made up for it with its variety and unique otherworldly characteristics.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the luxury to enjoy it for now.

To borrow these six books, he had to borrow a few points from the New Lord to barely scrape together enough.

Although the New Lord kept emphasizing that he could lend him more gold dragons, and even Old Man Mike was eager to pay for the book borrowing himself, all they asked was for him to write a few more chapters.

But Ronan politely declined each time.

The trend of battle through the heavens' explosive popularity was unstoppable.

"Thirty years east of the river, thirty years west of the river"—in this culturally barren otherworld, its impact was simply too powerful.

This could be intuitively felt from the reactions of the New Lord and Mike.

Dimensional reduction strikes were just that unreasonable.

Once the novel started serialization, Ronan would quickly earn enough points to experience what it felt like to be a nouveau riche at the Arcane Arts Society.

And that was exactly what happened.

In the past few days,

the New Lord would frequently come knocking on his door, immediately asking about the update progress and subtly hinting if he could take a sneak peek.

Whenever he saw the bread on Ronan's desk, he would complain that it wasn't nutritious enough and wanted to spend money to buy him some hearty meals.

Fortunately, Ronan stopped him, using the excuse that eating too much would make him drowsy and affect his writing progress.

This made the New Lord sit up straight and agree that eating less was indeed beneficial for health.

Ronan told the New Lord to knock less often if possible, as it would interrupt his train of thought.

Although what he was thinking about wasn't what the New Lord had in mind.

He was gradually learning about soul knowledge.

The book of magical knowledge could filter knowledge and refine new spells, but mastering systematic knowledge was something he needed to do himself.

However, in the New Lord's eyes, Black Day's deep contemplation was because he was creating a vibrant and colorful world in his mind.

After that, the New Lord indeed stopped knocking frequently to ask how many chapters he had written.

Ronan thought he had given up on the idea, but instead, the New Lord switched to staking out his door.

As soon as Ronan stepped out, the door to Room 762 next door instantly opened.

"Going to submit a manuscript?"

"Let me check it for you first."

"Come on, let's go inside and look."

The New Lord fired off three questions in a row, effectively blocking Ronan back inside.

Pushed back into his room, Ronan finally had a chance to speak.

"I ran out of bread and wanted to buy some..."

"Damn it!"

The New Lord pressed him down at the desk and reached out his hand. "Give me the money. I'll buy it for you. You focus on writing."

Ronan was speechless. Was this guy obsessed with reading? He decided to quickly update a few chapters.

Otherwise, if he was found to have written nothing, who knew what the New Lord might do.

Not long after, the New Lord hurried back.

He took out a large bag of bread from his Bracelet and placed it elsewhere, afraid that Ronan would eat out of boredom and end up too full and drowsy, affecting his writing progress.

Ronan's gaze fell on his Bracelet. This thing was much more convenient than an Adventurer's pouch.

"Where did you get this Storage Device?" He thought he'd get one for himself once he had the money.

"It was given by my family. You can't buy it on the market." The New Lord shook it and smiled. "But if you write a few more chapters, I could..."

"Forget it, forget it." Ronan quickly interrupted.

He took out the newly written manuscript and said, "Check it. I'll go submit it later."

The New Lord immediately rushed over, carefully took the manuscript, and without sitting down, started reading it as if in a trance.

He frowned at times, his face flushed at others, and soon flipped to the last page.

"It's too little..." The New Lord looked at Ronan with a pitiful expression.

Ronan ignored him, pretending nothing had happened.

The two went out together, and there were noticeably more students on the road than before.

Ronan even saw the previous Black Ghost, chatting and laughing with his companions, not noticing Ronan and the New Lord passing by.

"Let's go to the Ruby Dream Hall tonight..."

Hearing their conversation, Ronan couldn't help but grin, thinking to himself,

By the time you get there, the place will probably be torn apart... Arriving at the Third Floor Area,

Ronan keenly sensed that the atmosphere was off. He suddenly realized that every time he was with the New Lord, something always happened.

At that moment, a crowd was gathered three layers deep around the registration desk, all agitated.

"Mike, tell us quickly, or don't blame us..."

"I order you in the name of the Arcane Enforcement Team..."

"My mentor sent me to ask..."

... Seeing so many people gathered at the registration desk, Ronan remembered his previous experience at the Second-Floor Registration Desk. He immediately pulled the New Lord to the back of the crowd, gesturing for him to stay quiet.

"What's all the shouting!" Mike roared, instantly silencing the scene.

But soon, the crowd erupted into chaos again.

"Who are you yelling at!"

"You refuse a toast only to drink a forfeit, huh?"

"I'll report you to the President..."

... "Go ahead and report. Tell the President his confidential submission system has problems." Mike sneered, pushing back against the crowd.

"Call the entire Arcane Enforcement Team, and that guy's mentor, bring them all here!"

"See if I'll say anything!"

"You..." The crowd was momentarily speechless, helpless against Mike's firm stance.

"Let me tell you the truth, I'm close friends with 'From White to Black'..."

"This work was inspired by me, and that's why he started creating it."

Mike propped up his good leg, leaned back in his chair, and said, "If you cause trouble here again, I'll have him pause updates for a few days."

"You wouldn't dare!"

"How bold!"

"Just try it!"

"Bullshit!"

... The crowd instantly exploded, threats filling the air.

Everyone glared at Mike with red eyes, as if he were their mortal enemy.

Ronan and the New Lord finally understood the truth from the back.

"From White to Black" was the pen name he specifically used for writing novels.

It turned out that a group of people had read his novel and, loving it too much, wanted to break the rules and ask Mike on the third floor for the author's information.

But Mike was unusually firm, not revealing a single clue about Ronan to these people.

Surprisingly, this somewhat unscrupulous old man had quite a professional ethic.

Ronan began to see him in a new light.

"What now? Still submitting?" Ronan asked the New Lord.

At that moment, the New Lord's face was flushed, lost in his own unique pleasure.

Look, the author everyone is searching for, and I can chat and laugh with him, live next door, and be each other's confidants... Ronan called out twice, but he got no response, seeing him so entranced.

So, he took the manuscript himself and quietly walked to the Submission Box while everyone's attention was on the registration desk.

Just as he was about to drop the manuscript in, a voice from the crowd shouted:

"The President is here!"