Clear-headedness in this world was a kind of pain.
Because you were clear-headed, you had to bear so much.
Many people said that life held joy, anger, sorrow, and happiness—that a person's life had happy moments, sadness, and pain.
But the data showed that life contained more pain than happiness and joy.
Moreover, people spent at least three-quarters of their lives not enjoying life, but enduring it. Everyone's happiness was fleeting; most of the time, they carried pressure and burdens as they trudged forward.
That was why people spoke of the wisdom of playing the fool.
But would truly being muddleheaded bring happiness?
Perhaps not.
At that moment, both I and the projection of the middle-aged man before me, representing the system, should have been feeling conflicted. I was questioning life, and so was he.
Though he was a system, he was no longer a cold machine. Even describing him as artificial intelligence would have been an insult. He possessed true wisdom and his own thoughts, and his thinking far surpassed that of ordinary humans.
"Do you seem afraid of being destroyed?" I had noticed that when he granted me the highest authority earlier, he had added a note: the system could not be destroyed.
He rolled his eyes. "Aren't you afraid of dying?"
I froze for a moment, but what he said made sense. People feared death. The system possessed intelligence greater than humanity's, so it should likewise have emotions and feelings. Naturally, it would be afraid too.
Furthermore, it was practically an existence detached from the world. Saying that it could rule this world might have been an exaggeration, but it could definitely influence it. It could even freely alter certain people, events, and objects within it. In his own words, aside from Guiguzi, there was truly no