Wei Tianyang didn’t hesitate for a second. He left Spencer there and went straight back to his room.
He slipped into objective reality, opened the window, leaped into the air, and then flew up 900 ters at a steady pace, transforming into a giant with a flash of dark light.
In this form, flying distances were shortened, and he didn’t need to worry about his clothes getting torn due to high-speed flight.
In less than fifteen minutes, he had flown to the northernmost end of Yin Country.
He still rembered the small cabin in the mountains, the retreat left to him by Zhao Ling. After shielding them from a nuclear blast, he and Fujiwara Makoto had lived there in seclusion for over half a year.
Now, he had returned.
He exited objective reality and reverted to his normal form, overlooking the snow-capped peaks from the sky.
Wei Tianyang recognized that incredibly difficult mountain path; he followed it with his gaze until he found the hidden villa nestled among the mountains.
With a thud, Wei Tianyang landed on the ground, dressed only in a thin white shirt, black suit pants, and a pair of brown leather shoes, hardly the attire of a mountaineer.
The wooden cabin in front of him was locked up tight, the windows covered with iron plates, and the door was secured with sheet tal. Wei Tianyang scanned the inside of the house; there was no one there.
He tore off the sheet tal, twisted off the door handle, and stepped inside.
The house was cold and empty, the furniture retained the arrangent of his mories, but all the electrical equipnt was turned off and covered with a thin veil, as if it had been sealed off for a long ti.
He walked to the living room, where Fujiwara Makoto used to sit and study Yin language on her tablet. He sat down and looked toward the staircase leading to the second floor.
There was no one here, nothing.
She really wasn’t here.
Wei Tianyang sighed, turned around, and noticed a monitor by the door flashing a red light.
Shaking his head, he walked out of the house and flew away.
About eight hours later, Zhao Ling, wrapped in a down jacket, arrived at this place. She rushed into the house and sat on the stool where Wei Tianyang had sat, speechless and choking back tears.
After returning to Pei Guode Hotel, Wei Tianyang found that Spencer had checked in, so he went to find Rada Gan to inquire what had happened.
"I couldn’t refuse him, Yishenmali. Otherwise, it would affect the business of the hotel," Rada Gan said.
Wei Tianyang understood; the hotel in Etolia was literally a sanctuary on the surface, anyone who could afford it was allowed to stay without any vetting of qualifications or identity.
The guests knew this shelter ca from so unntionable person, but the hotel itself did not admit it, and they wouldn’t bring it up either.
If they unreasonably refused and evicted guests, it would be breaking this tacit agreent.
"He’s following the rules, he won’t spread rumors," Rada Gan said.
"If we begin to compromise, they will take it as an inch and take a mile," Wei Tianyang said.
"He can’t do anything. This hotel doesn’t vet qualifications or identities, nor does it recognize any. Even the President must follow the rules here; I guarantee he can’t bother you," Rada Gan assured.
Wei Tianyang sighed, nodded, and went back to his room.
Night fell.
He leaned against the headboard, with Baphot lying at the foot of the bed. He rested his feet on the tuft of black fur and picked up a thick book, flipping through it in the light of the bedside lamp.
His soles began to itch, so Wei Tianyang brought his feet up to the goat horns to scratch.
On the 19th floor VIP room, Spencer sat near the window, drinking whiskey by himself under the full moon.
"When was the last ti we drank together?" he chuckled.
Wei Tianyang could hear him, put down the book in his hand, and sent a telepathic ssage back, "You know I won’t change my mind."
"What you’re pursuing is being ravaged by this world," Spencer said.
"What I’m pursuing has many angles to interpret, and in the end, often turns into sothing else," Wei Tianyang replied.
"So essences don’t change," Spencer argued.
"What essence?" Wei Tianyang countered.
"So good in human nature, the most fundantal essence of a person," Spencer said.
Wei Tianyang laughed.
He recalled the group of refugees he had killed one night in Chicken Snake Country as they were preparing to rob a shop.
As war refugees, they were victims in need of protection, but their actions were sheer evil, and their reasons for wickedness were self-righteously noble.
Conformity is human nature; once people gather, the group ntality dominates the individual’s personality.
When victims use their own suffering as justification to harm others, how should people judge?
Justice and good versus evil are filled with uncertainties, greatly weakening the presence and gravity of these two concepts.
Ask those around you, do they believe justice will prevail over evil? Do they believe that good people are rewarded?
The majority will try to tell you that history is written by the victors, that bad people proliferate and pass on their legacy, while good people often don’t survive to the end.
This is the most absurd thing in the world, also corroborating a saying that seems sarcastic but is actually very perceptive: the more sothing is proclaid, the more it is lacking.
All governnts in the world are teaching their youth to be good people, to believe in justice, and to obey the law.
But Wei Tianyang has seen too many things that go against expectations.
Those in power often inherit it by birth, like Zhao Ling—though she ascended by assassinating her father, she at least needed an Emperor father to kill.
Then there’s Steijie, who, when he was strategizing in politics to gain benefits for his country and squandering money on villas and privileges for Wei Tianyang, faced no trouble, only to be assassinated the mont he started doing sothing beneficial for the nation and its people.
Laws and contract terms are fundantally no different; for the person who can only sign, there’s no choice. But for the person drafting the contract, they hold the ultimate power of interpretation.
Wei Tianyang has read too many books in the past two years, starting with novels, and then, with history.
Although he read a lot, he found that these books really just fell into two categories:
One type lulls people into contentnt and happiness.
The other type reflects reality and records suffering.
No one wants to read about hardship, even though that’s the norm in life. People buy books to escape reality, get a ntal rush, enjoy themselves, not to further tornt their spirits.
Therefore, those so-called masterpieces often don’t sell well.
Wei Tianyang greatly respects those authors who know such works have no economic value, yet still choose to write, even if so end up in prison, exiled, killed, or tortured for it.
"Spencer. Before , there were many others who pursued that greater aning, and I’ve found... they’ve already discovered it. They put their findings on paper, and I’ve read them—at first, I didn’t understand, but now, I think I’m getting a clue," Wei Tianyang said.
"Tell , what is it, Wei?" Spencer asked with a smile.
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