Warning: The new book may contain plot holes; please read with caution.

Hello, friends, hello to all my dear folks. It’s been quite a while since we last met!

I originally thought a three-month break would be enough, but here I am, only now finally launching a new book. Yesterday, when the announcement went out, I was greeted by all the familiar faces from my old home—such warmth, such intimacy. Once my excitement passed, fear crept in.

What if you don’t like it? That thought is terrifying, blanking out my mind.

This new book has been in the works for years, but since my previous apocalypse story hadn’t ended, it remained frozen in the cold storage. When the apocalypse was finally finished, I dragged it out, only to find it stiff and unyielding, impossible to sink my teeth into.

I rewrote it four or five times; just the first three chapters had three versions, and the protagonist changed twice. I nearly lost all my hair... Gradually, it thawed and awakened, lively and unruly—once again, a wild horse waiting for me to tame.

Yet, I began to worry.

Why did I write this preface as a warning? It’s not to scare you unnecessarily, but because I feel this new book’s flavor is somewhat unusual... remote and wild, far from civilization.

Collapse Risk 1:
This is an ensemble story without any romance, shifting perspectives every few chapters (think A Song of Ice and Fire). For some readers, this might be quite a challenge in terms of reading experience.

Collapse Risk 2:
I am now an adult (18), more steady and mature (yes), and my storytelling has slowed down... Gone is the frantic, out-of-control pace from the early days of the apocalypse.

Collapse Risk 3:
No leveling up, no superpowers (for people), not a power fantasy. Though it’s not exactly bleak either.

So, in the new book’s announcement, I said male readers might find “Pseudo-Image Report” akin to a blind date—only to discover an alien sitting across from them.

I simply cannot write power fantasies or leveling-up stories. If I tried, with my limited wisdom, I wouldn’t know how to avoid scenes like this—

A: Hello.
B: I’m good. What level are you?
A: Level 19, Grand Sorcerer. And you?
B: Oh, that's unfortunate. I’m level 11, middling Sorcerer.
A: So, how will you go? Should I do it or will you handle it yourself?
B: No need to trouble you—I sharpened my knife just yesterday, it’s nice and sharp. One stab to the neck, and I’m done.
(B collapses)
A walks a few steps and meets C, exchanging greetings.
A: I’m level 19.
C: I’m level 23, Master of Sorcery. How would you like to go?
A: Wait a moment, I’ll fetch the knife; it’s freshly sharpened, one stroke and you’re dead.

Such problems have surely been solved by mainstream web novels, or else they wouldn’t be so successful.

But I can’t manage it. I just want to write things few people read; perhaps this is what they call “walking an ever-narrower path.”

Collapse Risk 4 is that, unlike my previous apocalypse story, this one is set in modern Western society—

Ah, as soon as I say “Western,” I can almost hear you swiping away.

Don’t leave just yet; these new book sentiments cost nothing.

Here’s the thing—I want to write something different; life is finite, I can’t keep repeating myself.

There’s a saying, “Variety is the source of happiness.” I’ll be the “uneven” part; even if only ten people besides myself love it, it’s worth it.

Of course, some things that fascinate and delight me will never disappear from my writing—adventure, courage, the exploration of vast new worlds, seeking wonders beyond the everyday.

As for commercial success, well, as someone who writes neither romance for women nor leveling-up for men, I don’t expect to make money from writing. I mainly rely on hypocrisy to gather funds.

Honestly, I think that once you write for the sake of money, it becomes much harder to write well. If, one day, I write just for money, it would feel like betraying all the support you’ve given me along the way.

(Custom stories don’t count—how’s my kid, King’s dad?)

Compared to my last book, I feel my technique and prose have matured; I know better how to patch flaws and strive harder. I will devote myself to showing you this world that captivates me.

It may sound sentimental, but writing and reading are essentially the same—they are both searches for kindred spirits.

When we love the same world and the same story, we understand each other.

The moon over the sea, this very moment across the ends of the earth—one of the best feelings in the world.

I long to meet old friends and new, to find a handful of soulmates on this winding, remote mountain path about to unfold.