Chapter 84: More Updates! More Updates!

Bai Dacheng clicked open the page, puzzled; he thought it was probably just a single chapter update. After all, today's thirty thousand words had already been posted—surely there wouldn't be any more updates, right? But to his surprise, it was an actual update, and over twenty thousand words at that.

Why the extra update, then? Bai Dacheng couldn't quite figure it out. He hadn't seen any large rewards given. There were plenty of alliance leaders, but none above the Silver Alliance. Without any major rewards, why add extra chapters?

This question lingered in his mind. Soon enough, he pushed the doubt aside. Since there was more to read, he might as well enjoy it.

The quality of the chapters was, as always, high, and the plot full of twists and turns. Quickly, Bai Dacheng read to the end, where he found the author's note.

He was stunned.

“Extra chapters for monthly ticket votes?” Bai Dacheng murmured.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen something like this,” he said with a smile.

In the past, when authors vied for the monthly ticket leaderboard, they would add extra chapters. If you wanted first place, you had to go all out—update after update, relentless.

But somewhere along the line, competing for the leaderboard stopped coming with extra content. At best, authors would post a single chapter asking for votes, stirring up reader enthusiasm.

The era of explosive updates had become a thing of the past.

Now, to his surprise, Bai Dacheng saw an author adding chapters at the end of the month in response to monthly ticket votes.

A complex wave of emotion swept through him. Wasn’t that exactly what readers wanted? More content to read?

Back then, voting not only encouraged the author but brought tangible benefits—more updates. You felt your vote wasn’t wasted; the more you voted, the more content you got.

Later, the competition for the monthly ticket leaderboard became all about the author’s call to action. With a single shout, readers would vote.

But they were just readers, not fans chasing after celebrities.

At least for Bai Dacheng, he was simply a reader, sometimes giving a small reward when happy. He wouldn’t become a fan just because of a particular book.

Those single-chapter calls to action never resonated with him.

Still, since that was the norm, Bai Dacheng went along with it. His monthly tickets always went to the books he enjoyed.

But this book had brought back that old feeling—the sense that voting would earn new chapters.

Looking at his monthly ticket, Bai Dacheng cast it without hesitation!

Though it wasn’t yet the double monthly ticket period, he was enjoying the book and felt like voting.

Many others were just like Bai Dacheng—ordinary readers, voting spontaneously without organization.

The monthly tickets surged at a wild pace.

Soon, it surpassed the third place, then sped toward second.

The next day.

Jiang Zheng was jolted awake by the flurry of messages from his admins. He glanced at the messages and raised his eyebrows.

His place in the monthly ticket leaderboard had reached third? And now the gap with second place was closing fast?

“What’s going on?” Jiang Zheng messaged his admin.

“Boss, just check the comment section,” came the reply.

Jiang Zheng opened the comment section to look.

“Extra updates for monthly tickets, brothers, charge forward!”

“I didn’t know voting brought this benefit? No more words, I’m all in!”

“My youth has returned—finally, extra chapters for monthly ticket votes again.”

“Brothers, we’re not far from second place, let’s keep it up!”

Reading these comments, Jiang Zheng fell silent.

Voting for monthly tickets and adding extra chapters as thanks—wasn’t this normal? Why did it seem so rare in their eyes?

A sudden impulse arose within him; he wanted to compete for the monthly ticket leaderboard.

Originally, he had no such intention—it was too exhausting and costly. But now, with everyone so enthusiastic, he felt he owed them some gesture; it would be wrong not to respond to their passion.

Of course, he wouldn’t post a single chapter asking for votes. There was no need. With only a few days left in the month, tomorrow would mark the start of the double monthly ticket period.

Posting a call-to-action chapter at this point would be pointless.

The others had declared their intention to compete for the leaderboard since the beginning of the month.

Jiang Zheng took out his drafts and posted twenty thousand words, ending with: Thank you for your love, a small token of gratitude.

After posting the drafts, Jiang Zheng didn’t read—he dove straight into writing.

Since announcing he would update at least thirty thousand words daily, Jiang Zheng used to read in the morning and write in the afternoon.

Now he skipped his morning reading and started writing immediately.

He would catch up on reading once the month was over.

Originally, he had planned to use his drafts for a burst of updates, but seeing everyone’s enthusiasm, he had no choice but to release them now.

No matter; once the drafts are used up, he could always write more. But if he failed to respond to their passion, there might not be a next time.

With Jiang Zheng’s updates, readers began voting.

Though Jiang Zheng had no fixed sponsors, the power of the masses was immense.

More and more people came to support Jiang Zheng, even subscribing to other books just to earn monthly tickets and vote for him.

As time passed, the gap with second place grew ever smaller.

Finally, the second-place author grew restless.

He hurriedly posted a single chapter, essentially pleading for monthly tickets.

Previously, such chapters worked well—once posted, people responded.

But this time, they were less effective.

Comparisons are always dangerous.

Jiang Zheng’s side rewarded votes with extra chapters—twenty thousand words at a time, making readers feel truly satisfied.

The other side posted a single chapter; you voted, but got nothing in return.

Most readers aren’t unreasonable; as long as the quality is high, slower updates don’t matter. Or if the updates are plentiful, a dip in quality is acceptable.

But he couldn’t compete.

Jiang Zheng delivered both—high quantity, high quality, and extra chapters.

The difference became glaring.

Nobody demanded perfection, but everyone prefers the better offer.

Here, you got extra chapters for voting, and the quality was assured—why not do it?

Thus, more and more people voted, even those who hadn’t read the book, came to join the excitement.

At first, many suspected the book was artificially inflating its numbers, and some hotheaded readers were poised to denounce it.

But when they checked the reviews, they discovered that voting brought extra chapters—twenty thousand words at a time.

Say no more, I’m voting.

Of course, dissenting voices remained, but were quickly drowned out by the crowd, never surfacing.

Jiang Zheng wasn’t idle either; as monthly tickets increased, he kept updating.

Twenty thousand words, forty thousand, seventy thousand, one hundred thousand… one hundred fifty thousand!

A total of one hundred fifty thousand words, thirty thousand of which were regular updates, the remaining one hundred twenty thousand all added as thanks for the readers’ support.