116-120

*Chapter 116: Settlement*

*[Plot Points]: 385,600*

Los Angeles, San Marino.

Retracting his gaze from the fragmented data panel before him, Allen glanced at the "Plot Points" displayed on the system interface. His brows furrowed momentarily but soon relaxed.

He opened the system backend, where the increase in the "World Evolution Rate" further confirmed a suspicion he had held.

*[**System &…… Backend *** Historical…… Records…… &%￥ Exchange…… & Item Shop……]**

*[Script 7]: London Zombies***

*[World Evolution Rate]:* 0.43%

*[Plot Item—Voodoo Doll]* (3,000/Exchange)

- *Effect:* Random

- *Description:* The voodoo doll is a medium used in voodoo rituals. Different styles and colors represent varied effects.

- *Note:* There's always one that's right for you.

- *Note 2:* Do you know what the first voodoo dolls were made of...?

---

*[Character Card—Lin Jiuying (2/2)]* (5,000/Exchange)

- *Card Level:* Bronze

- *Description:* You can insert this character into any script without consuming additional Plot Points.

- *Note:* A person turns bad because they are weak-willed; a corpse becomes a zombie because it still breathes.

---

*[Character Card—Ah Hao (2/2)]* (800/Exchange)

- *Card Level:* Iron

- *Description:* You can insert this character into any script without consuming additional Plot Points.

- *Note:* That’s why I say, people must have resolve. When you die, you must let go. If you don’t, you’ll harm both others and yourself.

---

*[Plot Item—Corpse Animation Technique]* (2,000/Exchange)

- *Effect:* Control

- *Description:* A foundational spell of the Maoshan sect used to make corpses walk and run.

- *Note:* What does the Maoshan sect rely on for corpse control? It’s the Corpse Animation Technique! You think I carry corpses on my back?

---

"Just as I thought."

Allen’s gaze fell on the "World Evolution Rate" displayed in the system backend, and he nodded knowingly.

The new script, London Zombies, didn’t yield particularly high "Plot Points," but the "World Evolution Rate" increased by 0.15%, making it the script with the highest evolution rate among Allen’s creations to date.

The lower "Plot Points" were expected.

After all, while London Zombies featured a variety of supernatural forces—from voodoo and Maoshan spells to shadow corpses and evil corpses—the main storyline revolved around just a handful of characters.

Without audience participation, the decrease in "Plot Points" was within Allen’s expectations.

Based on his previous scripts and the films and TV series he had written in real life, he understood that the system calculated "Plot Points" based on the impact of the script on reality. This calculation included not only its influence on the general public but also its effect on the world itself.

This explained why London Zombies, despite modest "Plot Points," had an unexpectedly high "World Evolution Rate."

The relationship between the two was somewhat analogous to that between a film’s critical acclaim and its box office performance.

While there might be a correlation between reviews and revenue, it wasn’t absolute.

In the real world, various factors could influence box office results. The Blair Witch Project was a prime example.

You could criticize the film’s rough production and questionable plot, but you couldn’t deny its tremendous box office success.

Similarly, the scripts Allen created with the system shared this dynamic.

As the professor in the library had explained, the concept of the world as a puzzle meant that every new script added a piece to this world, whether it was good or bad.

Naturally, Allen hoped to create scripts that excelled in both "Plot Points" and "World Evolution Rate."

But clearly, achieving both critical and commercial success was as rare as a gem, even in Hollywood.

Creating evolutionary scripts required an investment of "Plot Points." Without enough of them, even the best scripts that could significantly enhance the "World Evolution Rate" were useless.

Thus, his primary focus remained on accumulating "Plot Points."

Having confirmed the main direction for his next evolutionary script, Allen exhaled in relief and turned his attention to the items available for exchange from this script.

The appearance of the character cards for Lin Jiuying and Ah Hao, the master and apprentice duo, was expected.

After all, in a script like London Zombies, the two were the undisputed protagonists.

It was likely that Allen’s future scripts would feature the pair again.

Aside from the two character cards, the voodoo doll representing voodoo magic and the Maoshan sect’s Corpse Animation Technique fit well with the script’s style.

"I wonder if this Corpse Animation Technique from the system is like the Demon Hunter Modification Method—just a transfer of knowledge."

With this doubt in mind, Allen redeemed the Corpse Animation Technique from the system backend.

As expected, knowledge of the Maoshan sect’s Corpse Animation Technique flooded his mind.

"No, it’s different. The Corpse Animation Technique and the Demon Hunter Modification Method aren’t the same."

A look of understanding crossed Allen’s face as he processed the knowledge of the Corpse Animation Technique. He quickly realized the differences.

Unlike the Demon Hunter Modification Method, which focused solely on self-enhancement, the Corpse Animation Technique mainly targeted corpses. It was originally developed by the Maoshan sect to facilitate corpse transportation.

The technique included methods for nurturing corpses, ensuring they remained intact during long journeys. After all, you couldn’t have the transported corpse falling apart—it would be unrecognizable, and no one would know whose corpse you were carrying.

If Allen wanted, he could use these techniques to nurture a corpse rivaling a shadow corpse.

"But where would I find a corpse?"

"And besides, with this system, why would I waste time on corpse nurturing? It’s ridiculous."

For anyone else, the knowledge contained in the Corpse Animation Technique would be incredibly valuable.

But Allen wasn’t particularly impressed by it.

Ultimately, he couldn’t accept the idea of keeping a corpse by his side. It wasn’t something a normal person could easily come to terms with.

Even though Allen had the system, he still saw himself as an ordinary person in terms of mental resilience. His adaptability wasn’t limitless.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter 117: Voodoo Doll

“So, yet another ability doomed to collect dust,” Allen muttered, shaking his head as he pulled his attention away from the [Corpse Driving Technique] recorded in his mind.

A helpless expression spread across his face.

The items available for exchange in the Evolution Script weren’t entirely under his control. There was an element of randomness to their appearance. Otherwise, the previous script’s exchange list wouldn’t have included items like [Random Evolution Map], which had no connection to the storyline whatsoever.

In the script for London Zombies, Allen had incorporated several magical combat scenes.

Whether it was the Maoshan Taoist spells used by [Lin Jiuying] or the voodoo curses from [Narcissus], these elements were carefully planned.

Unfortunately, none of them had made it into the system’s exchange list.

Instead, all he got was the [Corpse Driving Technique], a skill that offered some quirky corpse-cultivating tricks but was otherwise utterly useless.

If he hadn’t already confirmed that the system was so broken it couldn’t function properly, Allen might have suspected it was deliberately sabotaging him to squeeze more [Plot Points] out of him.

“Well, let’s hope the other item isn’t as useless.”

Disappointed with the [Corpse Driving Technique], Allen turned his attention to the second item on the list: [Voodoo Doll].

With a faint glimmer of hope, he exchanged for the item.

Three thousand [Plot Points] vanished from the system interface, and a palm-sized [Voodoo Doll] appeared in his hand.

The doll stood in his palm, a sinister little figure wrapped entirely in black yarn. It waved a tiny trident, trying its best to look menacing.

“It’s alive?”

Raising an eyebrow, Allen stared at the lively [Voodoo Doll] in his hand, his face betraying a hint of surprise.

At the same time, the system’s fragmented data panel displayed a series of crooked text.

*[Item: Voodoo Doll (Demonic Type)]*

- *Effect:* Misfortune

- *Description:* Use it against people who bother you. If you’re kindhearted and merciful, and you don’t want to hurt them too much, let this little devil teach them a lesson. It’ll satisfy your grudge without causing serious harm.

- *Note 1:* It’s just a little voodoo doll. Don’t set your expectations too high.

- *Note 2:* The doll is made of flammable materials, including yarn and a single strand of demon hair. Keep it away from fire.

“So, your ability is to bring bad luck?”

After reading the item description, Allen glanced down at the doll in his palm. It was cautiously poking his finger with its trident.

“…?”

Hearing his voice, the [Voodoo Doll] quickly hid the trident behind its back.

It tilted its round, yarn-covered head, revealing red button eyes as it gave Allen an innocent, questioning look.

---

The doll charged at a milk carton, brandishing its trident.

Plop!  

The tiny trident pierced the carton, leaving three small holes. Milk sprayed out, drenching the [Voodoo Doll].

Allen picked up the soggy doll, shook off the excess milk, and placed it back on the table.

Watching the doll wobble unsteadily, Allen spoke into the phone.

“So, the strike is over?”

“Yes, it’s over,” came the invigorated voice of Ron Meyer on the other end of the line.

The Writers Guild strike, which had dragged on for over 15 weeks, had caused widespread disruption in Hollywood. Universal Studios, where Ron Meyer worked, was no exception.

“The Alliance of Motion Picture and Television Producers has reached a consensus. The Writers Guild has also drafted the specifics of a tentative agreement, which is currently under legal review. Both sides agree it’s time to end the strike.”

“While the Writers Guild members still need to vote on the agreement, it’ll only delay the official end by a few days. The terms are essentially finalized.”

To end the strike, the Alliance made significant concessions regarding revenue shares. They agreed to a fixed payment of up to $1,200 for the first two years of streaming programs and a percentage of total distributor revenue starting in the third year. This was a vast improvement over the previous situation, where writers received nothing for streaming.

It was these dramatic concessions that finally persuaded the Writers Guild to agree to end what had become one of the longest strikes in Hollywood history.

Though the strike had inflicted severe damage on the Alliance, it hadn’t spared the Writers Guild members either, especially with Christmas around the corner.

Many lower-tier Guild members were at their breaking point, continuing to strike less out of passion and more to avoid the Guild’s $100,000 fine.

“Anyway, congratulations. Allen is back to work, and the release date for Texas Chainsaw Massacre 2 is set for mid-January. It’s not the prime Halloween slot for horror films, but it has no strong competition, so it should do well at the box office…”

“Also, ABC has shown interest in renewing Modern Family for another season. That means you won’t have to worry about your income for a while.”

The strike had devastated TV ratings, especially with the hiatus of popular shows. To recover revenue and offset losses, networks were unusually quick to announce renewals.

Modern Family, though a new show on ABC, had shown promising ratings, prompting the network to express confidence in its future.

As long as the show’s viewership didn’t drop significantly after returning, a second season renewal was practically guaranteed.

---

(End of Chapter)  

*Chapter 118: The Voodoo Doll Takes the Lead *

“Of course, besides the works that have already been adapted into films...”

"Universal has also resumed collecting new scripts."

Briefly mentioning the latest updates on the strike, Ron Meyer shifted the focus of the phone call to its primary purpose.

"Given our history of good cooperation, Universal will not hesitate to invest in a solid script."

There was an undertone in Ron Meyer's words that Allen picked up on.

As he casually grabbed a tissue to wipe the mess left behind by the [Voodoo Doll] on the table, Allen replied with a smile.

"In fact, I happen to have a new script idea in mind."

The strike had undoubtedly impacted the industry. Although Allen had used the system to bring many authentic script ideas into reality, he, like many other Hollywood screenwriters, had been out of work for nearly four months.

Now that the strike was nearing its end, it was time to present a new script and return to work.

After all, it would be a waste not to take advantage of capitalism's resources.

Besides, with so many "classic" scripts in hand, it would be a shame not to "create" them.

Finalizing a meeting with Ron Meyer over the phone, Allen finished the last piece of bread on his plate, threw the milk carton—pierced and battered by the [Voodoo Doll]'s trident—into the trash can, and got ready to head out.

At the dining table, the [Voodoo Doll], seeing Allen prepare to leave, quickly dropped its trident. It hopped on its stubby yarn-bound legs, arms outstretched, trying to get Allen to take it along.

"This isn’t a casual outing; it’s official business."

Noticing the [Voodoo Doll]'s movements, Allen shook his head.

"So, stay home and behave. Don’t wander off, or you might get discovered."

A hopping [Voodoo Doll] was far more conspicuous than a cat or dog. Unless Allen was ready to expose himself, he couldn’t afford to let the doll into the public eye. With his current celebrity status, if the [Voodoo Doll]'s secret were uncovered, it would attract more than just public attention—official authorities, and the newly established BSI, would undoubtedly launch an investigation.

Hearing Allen’s words, the once-excited [Voodoo Doll] immediately drooped, its arms dangling, looking dejected.

Even as the doll played the pity card, Allen remained unmoved.

He hadn’t forgotten the system's introduction, which mentioned that the [Voodoo Doll]'s body was made of yarn and strands of demon hair.

Ignoring the doll’s buttoned red eyes, Allen turned and left.

*Bang!*

As the door closed behind him, the [Voodoo Doll], which had been sulking at the table, instantly perked up. It picked up its trident and, with an air of defiance, waved it in the direction of the door, as if to say, You’ll see.  

Then, as if to assert its authority, the [Voodoo Doll] turned its black-yarn-wrapped head. Its red button eyes scanned the dining table, and it began wobbling around the house, trident in hand, conducting its "inspection."

---

"Wake up; the target has left..."

In San Marino, inside a van parked along the street, a scruffy man in the driver's seat watched Allen’s car drive off and called out to his sleeping partner.

"Huh? What?!"

The long-haired man in the passenger seat jerked awake, his face still groggy. "What did you say?"

"I said the target has left. We can go in now!"

Suppressing his irritation, the scruffy man repeated himself.

"Oh, that. Right."

Finally catching on, the long-haired man rubbed his eyes and realized they were tailing a wealthy homeowner.

“Still, why’d we have to pick a place like San Marino? I’ve seen police cars patrolling here multiple times these past few days. Every time they show up, I feel like we’re about to get busted.”

“Because this is where the money is.”

The scruffy man sighed.

“With the economy the way it is, only these rich people in places like San Marino have valuables left. The folks in the poor neighborhoods? I’d bet their homes are emptier than our pockets.”

“I told you, letting a Black man be president was a bad idea. They can’t even take care of themselves, and we’re supposed to expect them to save America?”

The two thieves exchanged complaints about the state of the economy and the election results.

It was the economy, after all, that had driven them to San Marino’s affluent neighborhoods for "work."

"Enough whining," the scruffy man said, grabbing a mask from the van and pulling it over his face. He then donned a hood to complete his disguise.

“I’ve scoped this house out. There’s only one person living here. If we’re quick, this one job will keep us afloat for months.”

Hearing this, the long-haired man shut up and put on his mask as well.

After ensuring there were no onlookers or patrolling police nearby, the scruffy man started the van and drove it closer to the target house, parking in an easily accessible escape spot.

Using the cover of bushes, he carefully approached the back window of the house, pulling a glass cutter from his pocket.

While the scruffy man worked on cutting a hole in the glass, the long-haired man kept watch, alert to any unusual sounds or movements.

Holding his breath, the scruffy man used a makeshift suction cup to secure the glass and meticulously cut a hole just large enough to reach through.

After several tense moments, the cut was complete, and he removed the glass piece with a look of satisfaction.

“Got it!” he whispered to his partner.

---

(End of Chapter)  

Chapter 119: The Curse of the Voodoo Doll

Swish, swish!  

Inside the room, the [Voodoo Doll] swung its tiny trident through the air with surprising vigor, jabbing relentlessly at the surrounding empty space.

After a while of this back-and-forth battle with the air, the [Voodoo Doll] began to feel a little bored.

Casually tossing aside its trident, barely thicker than a toothpick, it turned its round, yarn-knit head. The two red buttons serving as its eyes scanned the dining table until they were drawn to the tissue box.

Waddling on its stubby, round legs, the [Voodoo Doll] scurried over to the tissue box. Tilting its head back, it gazed up at the relatively towering object. The pristine, white tissues reflected in its button eyes, and its yarn face somehow seemed to carry a sense of reverence.

Nodding its round, yarn-knit head, the [Voodoo Doll] raised its stubby arms and legs, preparing to climb the tissue box.

*Crash—*

Suddenly, a noise from the back door startled the [Voodoo Doll], and it instinctively collapsed to the ground, playing dead.

“Be careful!”

Climbing through the window, the bearded man glared at his clumsy accomplice, who had caused the noise, his expression contorting under his mask as he hissed in a low voice.

“I didn’t mean to.”

The long-haired man rubbed the spot on his head where he’d hit the window frame, wincing in pain but responding nonchalantly.

“Besides, didn’t we already confirm that the homeowner left? Even if we make some noise, no one will notice.”

Indeed, as the long-haired man had pointed out, they had waited until they saw the homeowner leave before sneaking in.

“Just hurry up. Who knows when they’ll come back.”

Still, out of caution, the bearded man warned his accomplice. Of course, whether his accomplice heeded the warning was beyond his control.

Adjusting his mask, the bearded man took a deep breath and began to carefully move toward the living room.

Even though they were certain no one was home, his “professional” instincts wouldn’t allow him to walk around carelessly.

Trailing behind, the long-haired man rolled his eyes at his companion’s overly cautious demeanor. As his gaze swept over the room, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of jealousy.

“Why is it that these rich people get to live in such nice houses, while we’re stuck in run-down apartments where even the utilities are unreliable?”

Hearing the complaint, the bearded man replied in a low voice, “You just answered your own question. They’re rich, and we’re not.”

“It’s not fair.”

“Actually, it’s perfectly fair. They make money to afford these houses, and we make money by breaking into them.”

Cutting off his partner’s grumbling with an impatient tone, the bearded man turned to glare at him. “So, if you want to make money, shut up and focus on the ‘job’!”

Meeting the bearded man’s sharp gaze, the long-haired man, though still disgruntled, closed his mouth. He scanned the living room idly until his attention landed on the [Voodoo Doll] lying motionless by the tissue box.

Curiosity flickered across his face as he took a step toward the dining table.

“Get back here. I’ve already checked that area—there’s nothing valuable in the living room!”

The bearded man’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“It looks like the homeowner must’ve stashed the good stuff upstairs. Let’s go check it out.”

Hearing this, the long-haired man reluctantly abandoned his interest in the [Voodoo Doll]. He cast one last glance at it before following his companion upstairs, knowing that the “job” came first.

The moment the two burglars left the living room, the previously lifeless [Voodoo Doll] twitched its stubby legs, then dashed like a sprinter to retrieve its trident.

Gripping the tiny weapon, the [Voodoo Doll] turned its round, yarn-knit head, its button eyes fixed on the staircase.

There was no doubt—these intruders were not the homeowners it remembered.

If they weren’t the owners, that meant only one thing: it could curse them and bring them misfortune.

Excitement bubbled within the [Voodoo Doll] as it danced in place on the table.

*Crash!*

The noise from upstairs jolted it back to reality.

Quickly, it waved its trident, drawing circles in the air and jabbing it toward the ceiling.

When the ritual was complete, the [Voodoo Doll] visibly deflated, but its button eyes sparkled with anticipation.

---

“I’ve told you a million times—be careful!”

In the upstairs bedroom, the bearded man stuffed valuables into his bag, his irritation boiling over at the racket his partner was making.

He was fed up with the long-haired man’s clumsiness. If they weren’t from the same neighborhood, he wouldn’t have brought him along.

“It wasn’t on purpose. How was I supposed to know there was a cup there?”

Knowing he was in the wrong, the long-haired man muttered a weak defense. He glanced at the shattered glass on the floor and, in frustration, moved to kick it aside.

Unfortunately, that careless action proved costly.

*Thud!*

His foot slipped on the glass, sending him sprawling to the floor with a loud crash.

“Didn’t I just tell you to be careful—”

The bearded man spun around, his anger reaching its peak. But his words died as his eyes met the long-haired man’s bewildered expression.

Both men froze for a moment.

“...It was an accident,” the long-haired man finally muttered.

“I can see that.”

“Be more careful.”

“Got it.”

With a resigned sigh, the bearded man turned back to give him space.

The long-haired man climbed to his feet with a blank expression, glaring down at the mocking shards of glass. He raised his foot again.

And then—

*Thud!*

---

The [Voodoo Doll]’s button eyes glimmered mischievously as it clutched its trident. Upstairs, the sound of chaos continued.

It was thrilled.

Who would dare to underestimate the power of its curses?

*Chapter 120: Unlucky []*

“F**K!”

Once again, his head collided intimately with the floor, and the familiar yet strange ceiling came into view.

The long-haired man couldn’t help but curse as he held his aching head and struggled to get up from the ground once more.

The subtle, judgmental glance from his bearded partner didn’t go unnoticed, and it nearly made his blood boil with rage.

“Damn it! I don’t believe this!”

He muttered angrily, lifting his leg with sheer determination.

*Thud!*

The familiar pain and that ever-present ceiling greeted him once more.

Maybe after this job, I should seriously consider finding a new partner, he thought.

Turning his head, the bearded man observed his companion, who had now tripped over the same glass cup three times. He couldn’t help but wonder if partnering with someone this clumsy was a mistake.

After all, someone capable of tripping over a single glass cup three times was clearly beyond what a common thief like him could tolerate.

“……”

Under the watchful gaze of his partner, the long-haired man silently climbed back to his feet. He glared at the seemingly ordinary glass cup lying on the ground, unchanged from before. His face twitched beneath his mask as he took a deep breath, lifted his leg, and—under his partner’s speechless yet slightly curious expression—hesitated to deliver a fourth kick.

“No… no, now’s not the time to focus on this.”

At the cabinet, the bearded man shook his head in disappointment but quickly refocused. This wasn’t the time to be watching the comedy unfold; he redirected his attention to his “work” at hand.

On the other side, the long-haired man finally gave up on kicking the cup again. Retracting his raised leg, he bent down to pick up the broken glass cup that seemed to mock him silently.

“I knew it! It’s just a regular glass cup. I can’t believe I let a few accidents get to me like that.”

Staring at the broken cup in his hand, he exhaled a breath of relief. With a casual flick, he tossed the glass aside.

However, to his utter disbelief, the glass cup bounced off the bed a few times and, with uncanny precision, struck him squarely on the forehead again.

*Bang! Bang! Bang!*

*Thud!*

Lying flat on the bedroom floor once more, the long-haired man gave up thinking altogether, staring blankly at the familiar ceiling above.

Again?!  

Turning his head, the bearded man looked at his fallen partner and, surprisingly, didn’t even flinch this time.

Next time, I swear I won’t bring this guy along. Never again! he silently vowed.

The commotion caused by the long-haired man worried the bearded man. Concerned that the noise might attract unnecessary attention, he hastily gathered a few valuables from the bedroom and decided it was time to leave.

“Alright, stop lying there. We’re leaving now,” he whispered as he passed the long-haired man.

Hearing his partner’s voice, the long-haired man’s hollow eyes regained a faint glimmer. Rising mechanically, he followed the bearded man, desperate to leave the house.

After tripping over a glass cup repeatedly, the long-haired man was now questioning his very existence. He needed a drink—badly—to forget this streak of bad luck.

“I told you—always be cautious,” the bearded man said, unable to suppress a smug grin beneath his mask as he savored the spoils of their theft.

Glancing at his unusually quiet partner, he hesitated before offering a few words of consolation.

“See? It’s because I’m cautious that—”

He quickened his pace toward the staircase mid-sentence, but just as he was about to step onto the first stair—

*Slip!*

“Ahhhhhh!”

He tumbled down the stairs with a speed that defied belief, rolling to the bottom as the long-haired man stared in shock.

*Thud!*

With a heavy crash, the bearded man landed at the foot of the stairs in a spread-eagle position.

“You’re cautious, alright,” the long-haired man muttered, standing on the second floor.

The emptiness in his eyes faded, replaced by a renewed sense of joy.

There’s nothing more comforting than seeing someone else having an even worse day than you.

And without a doubt, the bearded man had become that someone. His fall looked far more painful than the long-haired man’s string of mishaps in the bedroom.

“Alright, I admit it—you’re definitely more cautious than I am.”

The long-haired man fought back a laugh as he carefully descended the stairs.

Taking lessons from his partner’s blunder, he moved with extreme caution—

*Crack!*

“Why is this step broken?! Ahhh!”

With a loud crack, the stair beneath him gave way, and the long-haired man tumbled down the stairs in an almost identical fashion to the bearded man before him.

“I’m fine—it’s just a small mishap,” the bearded man said, brushing himself off despite the pain. But as he looked up, he saw his partner rolling down the stairs just like he had moments ago.

“It… doesn’t hurt?”

The long-haired man finally came to a stop, his face puzzled beneath his mask.

“Of course it doesn’t—you landed on me!”

A muffled groan came from beneath him. Looking down, the long-haired man saw that he’d landed squarely on his partner.

“Sorry! That wasn’t intentional.”

“I know it wasn’t. But could you get off me now?”

The pain was too much for the bearded man to endure this time. Once free, he glared at his partner and barked, “Just follow me and don’t do anything else!”

Limping toward the back door, the bearded man muttered under his breath.

“Wait… is that a doll?”

Passing the living room, the long-haired man noticed a motionless voodoo doll lying on the dining table. A fleeting sense of unease crossed his mind.

But before he could think further, he accidentally bumped into his partner, unable to stop in time.

*Crash!*

(End of Chapter)