Kays Translations
Just another Isekai Lover~
Chapter 66: The Aura of Divine Intimidation
Harboring a twinge of doubt, Marlon slept soundly through the night, enjoying a series of good dreams, until Adela—ever dutiful in her role as his personal maid—awoke him with quiet insistence.
After hastily completing his morning ablutions, Marlon seized the precious hours of the morning to dictate, in a single breath and at breakneck speed, over seventy thousand words to Adela. The work in question was supposedly the Spring and Autumn Annals, a text written by the sage Confucius during times of hardship, infused with an almost mythical aura capable of intimidating both spirits and mortals alike.
Of course, Marlon wasn’t reciting the true Spring and Autumn Annals. Instead, he had cobbled together a pseudo-version based on what he remembered from his previous life: the portions of the Spring and Autumn Annals and its three commentaries that he had half-read, half-abandoned while researching for his historical novels, and the scattered stories of the Spring and Autumn and Warring States periods he had picked up along the way. In short, it was a heavily “padded” fabrication, a watered-down Spring and Autumn stitched together from memory and imagination.
As a result, what had originally been fewer than twenty thousand words in the authentic text expanded under Marlon’s narration to well over two hundred thousand words. In fact, Marlon even intended to extend the story from the “Partition of Jin by the Three Houses” onward, weaving in the chaotic tales of the Warring States period, because, compared to the noble and orderly chronicles of the Spring and Autumn era, the bloody and disorderly Warring States era offered far more material to invent and embellish.
After all, Marlon had watched plenty of films, TV dramas, anime, and read novels about the Warring States period, whereas the Spring and Autumn period had left him with only Confucius and the Yuan dynasty drama The Orphan of the Zhao Family as reference points.
Ah yes, speaking of The Orphan of the Zhao Family, it happened that Marlon’s retelling of the Spring and Autumn period had just reached that stage today, and so he naturally expanded the story of The Orphan of the Zhao Family into an over fifty-thousand-word opening saga.
Whether Marlon’s seemingly endless words were meant to fulfill his oral dictation task, or whether he was simply padding the narrative for his own amusement, only Marlon himself knew.
At the very least, the story—with its sharply drawn characters and vivid conflicts—captivated Adela completely.
Because of the morning’s pressing schedule, Marlon spoke at lightning speed, dictating nearly eighty thousand words in a single morning. By the end, Adela’s hands ached from writing so feverishly, her fingers trembling from the strain.
Yet when Marlon finally concluded the tale of The Orphan of the Zhao Family, Adela, thoroughly absorbed in the story, let out a long, contented sigh and blurted out a verdict:
“This is wonderful! That scoundrel Kang Jia—well, Tu… that villain really deserves to die! Wu Zhao did the right thing!”
In Marlon’s version of The Orphan of the Zhao Family, the villain—Tu Anjia, or as Marlon had localized, Anjia-Tu—was responsible for the massacre of Zhao Wu’s entire family, causing many righteous warriors to sacrifice their lives in vain. And the young and naive Zhao Wu, now adopted by the villain, ultimately exacted vengeance under the protection of these loyal heroes, bringing justice and closure to the tragedy.
“You seem to like this story, Adela,” Marlon said thoughtfully, stroking his chin.
“It’s not just that—I absolutely love it!” she replied firmly, her voice brimming with conviction.
“I see…” Marlon mused for a moment longer before turning his gaze to the small fox-girl quietly seated beside him. “And you, Amy? Did you enjoy the story?”
Amy nodded vigorously, her sapphire-blue eyes sparkling with delight. She seemed particularly thrilled that the once-ruined Wu Zhao had finally achieved his hard-won revenge.
“Ah, I get it now,” Marlon said with a small chuckle. “The first film we produce should probably focus on stories that everyone enjoys most.”
Watching Amy’s emotional response, Marlon finally felt clarity on the type of story to choose when expanding his cinematic ventures once virtual projection technology was widely available. Stories like The Orphan of the Zhao Family, A Midsummer Night’s Dream, or even a melodramatic Korean drama—any tale that could grip ordinary people’s hearts, draw tears of empathy, and ultimately resolve in a satisfying, happy conclusion—would be perfect.
Wait a moment—Four Hundred Years of Passion? That one might be risky…
If he recalled correctly, the Dracula in that story attempted to pierce Jesus on the cross with a spear. In a world where gods were real, such an act would undoubtedly be considered blasphemy.
Marlon sighed inwardly. His experience at the city square yesterday had forced him to acknowledge that even matters of the divine—once abstract and ignorable—must now be carefully considered.
No wonder literature and entertainment in this world were still underdeveloped despite its thousands of years of history. What a headache…
Lost in thought, Marlon was suddenly roused by the clamor of footsteps and loud voices outside the Blossoming Courtyard. Leaning slightly closer to listen, he recognized the loudest voice as belonging to Conchita-Bowden, Master of the Clawed Druids.
Could it already be noon? How quickly time had flown…
Marlon hurriedly gathered Adela and the fox-girl, leaving the study, crossing the corridor, descending the stairs, passing through the grand hall, and finally opening the garden gate.
No sooner had the doors swung open than Marlon saw Conchita-Bowden, accompanied by a dozen dwarven blacksmiths, goblin jewelers, and… the construction crew of the orphanage, now officially part of the Crane Dance White Sand Construction Company, herding a dozen or more double-horse carriages.
To enhance a sense of collective pride, Marlon had designed matching blue work uniforms for all employees of Crane Dance White Sand Construction Company. The tailored outfits were both comfortable and stylish, and now each young man driving the carriages wore one flawlessly.
But that wasn’t the important part. What caught Marlon’s attention was that the double-horse carriages were loaded with workstations for gem crafting, medium-sized iron anvils, giant hammers, steam-powered forging hammers, and other equipment for jewelry-making and blacksmithing.
“Master Marlon! These are the two Little Tyrant units we assembled according to your blueprints. Please check the specifications and dimensions to see if everything is in order!”
The dwarven blacksmith leader, Old Abbey, held aloft two gleaming steel Little Tyrant game machines, their surfaces sparkling under the sunlight thanks to traces of Star Iron and Luminescent Stone Powder. Taking short, quick steps, he nearly flew up to Marlon.
“These are the crystal cartridges we’ve crafted! All meet the production standards!”
The goblin jeweler leader, Old Shanter, was equally eager, presenting a handful of crystal rods. Though crystal-clear in material, their dimensions resembled Earth’s computer memory sticks, and he dashed forward to present them.
“Let’s hold off on those for now. What I want to know first,” Marlon said, pointing at the ten-plus double-horse carriages now fully loaded, “is how exactly did you manage to move all the people who were supposed to eat lunch?”
He asked, genuinely perplexed. While he had indeed hired the dwarven blacksmiths and goblin jewelers, the contract had never stipulated that they must “bring their own provisions.”