Chapter 544: Main Storyline, Objectives, and Certainty

The narrative, now approaching 1.5 million words, has gradually clarified its plot after an initial period of ambiguity. However, some readers still remain unsure about the core storyline involving the celestials and the protagonist's ultimate direction.

Furthermore, what drives the protagonist and what are his motivations?

In this tea talk, I will address these questions.

To avoid any misunderstanding, I'll be direct: the main plot is clearly outlined in the synopsis: "Follow the clues left by celestials, reverse predetermined fate, uncover the truth of gods and demons, and incidentally, build a legacy."

Readers who have followed the story thus far can likely sense the core issues plaguing this twisted world, the root of its conflicts, and the identity of the protagonist's ultimate adversary. At present, this adversary remains more formidable than any distant mountain and more powerful than the very fabric of the cosmos itself.

Yes, so this is yet another tiresome world-saving novel.

Why was the main plot not unveiled from the very beginning? Why were clear objectives not established for both the protagonist and the readers at the outset?

Because this objective is simply too expansive, too lofty. In plain terms, it's too immense. Imagine telling someone who has just transmigrated, "The deities in this world are terrifyingly powerful, capable of instantly striking anyone down. Now, I'm assigning you a crucial mission: go defeat the Heavenly God." They would likely just spit in your face and deem you insane.

No one is born a warrior. Even love and hate require a basis, let alone something as intangible as conviction, willpower, or perseverance. As someone who transmigrated from a modern working-class background, it's unreasonable to expect him to possess unwavering determination or noble ideals from the outset; after all, he may not have even fully understood life in his previous existence.

He should begin with what he knows best: simply going with the flow. This is not a derogatory term. For an ordinary person striving to survive in chaotic times, the best one can hope for is to drift along and secure basic sustenance. After all, who wasn't exhausted after three years of the pandemic? Even in what's considered a prosperous era, who can claim they haven't been exploited by this harsh world? The chances of becoming a figure like Liu Bang or Zhu Yuanzhang are infinitesimally small. A general’s glory is built upon countless casualties; ordinary individuals would simply perish in such a pursuit.

Therefore, the protagonist initially immerses himself in the mortal world, experiencing the perfidy of both society and his own father, as depicted in Volume 1: Panlong. He then officially embarks on the Da Fang Hu – Panlong City instance, gaining a powerful advantage and secretly cultivating to enhance himself, as covered in Volumes 2 and 3: Xianling. Assuming the identity of the eldest son of Xiazhou’s Governor, he experiences the empire’s waxing and waning, navigates the tumultuous bureaucracy, becomes embroiled in military and political conflicts, and endures his first major war, detailed in Volume 4: Shihuan and Volume 5: Dunyu. He then escapes his homeland and father via a water-based technique, gaining boundless freedom for his development, a period described in Volume 6: Demon Nest. Guided by Panlong City and the threads of destiny, he advances towards the territory of his lifelong enemy, observing, integrating into, researching, and ultimately disrupting it, as chronicled in Volumes 7 and 8: The Demon’s Utopia (Parts I & II).

After enduring the author’s relentless trials, Brother Chuan’s experiences gradually deepen, enabling him to finally define his own objectives. These objectives are well-aligned with the overarching plot. For instance, uncovering the secret of Da Fang Hu, identifying the Heavenly God's vulnerabilities, and building his own power for self-preservation and resistance. However, these are matters for future discussion, to be explored later.

In essence, viewing the novel’s main plot as the protagonist’s personal growth journey is also entirely valid, with an emphasis on natural progression and organic development.

Since we're discussing objectives, let's now turn to the concept of "certainty."

Please allow me to first offer an apology: the novel’s main plot and objectives were indeed not obvious in its initial stages. Most readers could vaguely sense them but found themselves unable to articulate them. Furthermore, each time the protagonist achieved something, the benefits weren't always immediately clear, lacking what I call the "light switch effect": where you flip a switch, and the light instantly illuminates. The feedback is immediate, the effect is obvious, and a strong sense of satisfaction follows.

These two points contributed to the narrative’s sense of uncertainty. In most web novels readers typically enjoy, these elements are fundamental, acting as crucial landmarks; omitting even one can be considered a fatal flaw. Consequently, crafting "uncertainty" effectively presents a significant challenge.

Why would I choose such a thankless and arduous path? Wouldn't it be far more appealing to simply write a novel with a clear main plot and definite objectives? On one hand, it stems from a mischievous inclination. If readers could instantly foresee the ending and precisely what the protagonist would do next, my enjoyment as the author would be diminished by at least half. (Just kidding, of course.)

On the other hand, I hope this atmosphere, shrouded in the mists of the unknown, allows readers to more easily inhabit Brother Chuan’s perspective—to see what he sees, think what he thinks, and feel what he feels. This way, readers can truly put themselves in his shoes and better empathize with the protagonist’s circumstances and environment. After all, "uncertainty" is precisely the greatest challenge the protagonist confronts. It’s akin to being on a vast ocean: you, I, and the protagonist are all on the same dilapidated vessel, swept along by the currents of the era, confronting both the unknown and peril together.

Regarding the insufficient "light switch effect," I will not shy away from this criticism; it is indeed one area for future improvement. As Brother Chuan grows stronger, this aspect will naturally be reinforced. Just as characters must evolve, so too must the author.

Our writing is neither perfect nor beyond critique. Therefore, if we grant the novel time to tackle its difficulties, patience to overcome challenges, and joyful encouragement, it might just grow beyond all expectations. Isn't a pleasant surprise even more something to anticipate?