"You finally understand," Yawen, who always maintained a stern face, couldn’t help but soften slightly.
Yet he still did not reveal a welcoming expression.
He rely set down his tea, displaying a mocking look, "But the ridiculous part is, those commoners still haven’t understood.
"They only know that this old man likes stories. Therefore, on this land, stories can even beco the hardest currency—they can be exchanged for slaves, houses, land, titles. Because as long as one gains my approval, they have a chance to beco the bishop of the church.
"So those wealthy people, they gather daily around those writers, playwrights, and troubadours. Just like dogs in a restaurant, staying by your side while you eat, watching your every move... hoping for a piece of at to fall so they can joyously snatch it up."
At this point, Yawen couldn’t help but snicker.
It certainly wasn’t a smile of goodwill.
Rather, it was as if he were being amused by a clown... It was a smile filled with arrogance and mockery, looking down from above: "Don’t you think they themselves are a spectacular drama?
"These clowns. These cheaters. These wealthy ones. These nobles. This island. This entire nation—they all amuse .
"At first, they buy a good story and then couldn’t wait to pick a child from their own offspring who was pleasing and clever to send to the church. Under the guise of the creator of the story, they would submit to ... they actually thought they could deceive . Hahahaha!"
Yawen laughed heartily.
Annan sighed.
Did they truly believe these purchased stories could deceive the gods?
No...
Or rather, did they prefer to believe it was true?
"But on your end..."
"I of course accepted so, but drove away many more."
Yawen shrugged his shoulders, "Because among them there were indeed so who were talented. They didn’t need to buy those stories; just letting their kids co to the church or simply practicing more at ho would achieve that purpose.
"But they stubbornly refused to believe. They had to spend money to cheat... They rather believe in money than trust their own children, or believe in their talent. Compared to their ludicrous actions, this ’live drama’ attracted my attention more.
"Afterward, things took a new turn. When they saw that I accepted so and rejected others, they just thought that the ’stories were not good enough’.
"They then self-righteously established so ’art review councils’, cultivated so ’art appraisal committee mbers’, letting them analyze the ’works’ brought by those I rejected—they actually managed to find so patterns, forming the so-called ’standards for good and bad in art’!"
At this point, Yawen was overjoyed, laughing his head off.
The "artistic standards" that never existed from the beginning.
Suddenly turned into an industry, a guild.
"Since then, every ti I drove people away, they would analyze what was wrong with their works; every ti I accepted soone, they would analyze what was good about their works. The problem is, from the beginning, what I looked at were the people... not the stories themselves.
"They survive through stories but don’t understand what it ans—’stories are living things’—stories are a kind of intangible monster that can absorb nutrients of life, gradually grow, and twist. It is human cravings, human pain, human struggles... they are a part of human beings, like hair cut off, eyes gouged out. Blood and flesh given away in pain and hope."
Yawen leaned back in his chair, casually saying, "And their stolen stories, having not taken root in the soil nad ’life’, may look beautiful at first glance, but are rootless flowers, hollow and void.
"Just like the story of Hamlet you once told about."
Yawen was speaking and suddenly pricked Annan with a remark, "That was not a story of our world. In another world, it might serve as a reflection of society, but here, it signifies nothing, predicts nothing... The contradictions of that world are not the contradictions here, neither are the desires of the people here.
"The people of Noah cannot understand why the people of Winter cry when leaving their holand, just as the people of Winter don’t understand why they value money over familial relationships; here in Dennisiowa, fishern and sailors might beco pirates at any mont, they are sons of the sea; but over at Gemstone Island close by, it changes to the conflict between miners and mining lords.
"Stories are living things, Annan. I hope you rember this... every country, every place, the demands of the people are different. Using one’s own assumptions to asure another’s suffering is an arrogance."
At this point, Yawen glanced at the Paper Princess, "Just like that little fool, initially inciting you to obtain the holy relic, only then allowing you to advance to Gold... Do you know why?"
"...Why?"
Annan truly didn’t know the answer to this question.
He only rembered that the Paper Princess had indeed suggested this to him... but she hadn’t ntioned the reason behind it. Hence, Annan had hesitated, but eventually, due to the distant prospects of the sacred remains, he decided to let go of this idea in favor of saving ti.
But seeing Yawen’s implications... had he made the right decision?
"You could recite that phrase too, ’Destiny is the ruts of the Celestial Chariot’... Your luck is really good."
Yawen leisurely said, "The aning of the sacred remains is ’inheritance.’ It is the unaccomplished missions of great people preserved and passed on to future generations as an Unceasing Fla.
"’A Dyed Soul’ and ’A Congealed Soul’ in Transcendents obtain the sacred remains for entirely different purposes. A Transcendent with a Dyed Soul inherently possesses steadfast desires and determination, thus the sacred remains demand them ’to do those tasks’ and provide them power in exchange.
"But for a Transcendent with ’A Congealed Soul’... their souls are pure as water, clean as silver. They have not been tainted by desires, aning they possess more potentialities. When they obtain the sacred remains at the silver tier, their souls will be dyed by the desires within the sacred remains."
As Yawen spoke, he gazed at Annan with an implied, profound look, "Using the terminology of your... ’system’, it ans, ’If one obtains the sacred remains at the silver tier, one can inherit the profession of the original Saint.’ Did you think of anything?"
"...Wizard’s Tower?"
Annan blurted out.
Though he was sowhat concerned about the "system" Yawen ntioned, he quickly realized the information about the sacred remains was more crucial.
If one obtained the sacred remains at the silver tier, one could use them to dye one’s soul and acquire the designated profession.
—Isn’t this the inheritance of the Tower Master?!
"You’re correct."
Yawen nodded in satisfaction.
He sighed and poured a cup of tea for both himself and Annan.
This tea, in both color and aroma, was sothing Annan had never seen or tasted before. This naturally was also one of the leading skills that Yawen possessed.
"The ’profession’ inherited from the Wizard’s Tower is the last remains of ’gods who have died’."
Yawen lifted his teacup and took a sip.
He calmly said, "And the world’s first ’Saint’—that is, the template of the Heart of Justice, the Justice Saint... the reason he beca a Saint was that he was strong enough but couldn’t beco a god. He also didn’t want his legacy, the ’Path of Justice,’ to be terminated, lest people in the future yearn for justice but cannot find it...
"So before his death, he used his last power to create a smaller path outside the ’Path of Ascension.’
"...Then, despite his exceptional nature, why couldn’t he beco a deity?"
Listening to this, Annan subtly realized sothing.
The Goddess of Cup and the Paper Princess had both advised him to obtain the "Heart of Justice," while the Mysterious Lady and Yawen did not think he was suitable for the "Heart of Justice." Coupled with the identity of this first Saint...
He suddenly "understood."
"...Is it because of the Charioteer?"
"Yes."
Yawen nodded.
His face’s smile completely faded.
He slowly set down the teacup, his expression inscrutable: "The Justice Saint is much older than other Saints, considerably so.
"His na was Sisyphus, a brave and cheerful youth, and a follower of the Charioteer. He was the last deity ascended by the ’Charioteer,’ and the only one whose ascension failed.
"He deeply loved the Charioteer, and he respected and adored her. He swore that once he beca a deity, he would ensure justice was everywhere, never late... Thus, he gained the world’s recognition and received the Book of Truth nad ’Pale Justice.’ The Charioteer was to personally escort him to the realm of light.
"And just as he was ascending mid-way in the Celestial Chariot...
"—The Charioteer, she fell. Right in front of Sisyphus."
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