Bai Yu's gaze swept over Luo Chuan. "Although what you said makes a lot of sense, Boss, why does it feel so strange to me? Forget it. There's really no need to care about so much. The world is still beautiful."
Luo Chuan pondered the information he had just learned. At that moment, the clues drifting amid the hazy mist seemed to be linked by some invisible thread, and the "truth" hidden in the darkness finally revealed a trace of itself.
"I'm thinking about the changes caused by what you just said." Luo Chuan stroked his chin, feeling as though Sherlock Holmes had possessed him. "Only when words equivalent to 'truths' are spoken do certain unpredictable changes occur."
"Truth?" Bai Yu did not understand, and tossed a Potato Chip into his mouth.
"Simply put, it's mortals' 'understanding' of the Lord of the End." Luo Chuan explained what he had just connected. "Only words spoken by those who understand Him can be called truths, becoming vessels for the Lord of the End's power. No matter how detailed the words of those who do not understand Him may be, they are nothing more than irrelevant legends."
Bai Yu froze where he stood.
Luo Chuan was in no hurry. He gazed at the hazy light in the distance. Daylight and darkness were not as distinctly divided as the Jing and Wei Rivers; at their boundary lay a grayish-white chaos. By Luo Chuan's understanding, it was probably because certain spiritual herbs neither required copious sunlight nor could remain in darkness for too long. After all, the rarer a spiritual herb was, the harsher its requirements for its growing environment became—the sort that could easily play itself to death.
Before long, Bai Yu emerged from his thoughts. Under Luo Chuan's expectant gaze, he shook his