A single fragment of wisdom was enough to leave Lu PingAn completely satisfied.
His progress as a scholar and in terms of talent was not even his greatest gain. That qualitative leap in the courtyard was an "opportunity" nearly impossible to obtain through normal professional advancement.
What it raised was his ceiling, his potential—the foundation that would continue to grow alongside his progress.
Of course, he was not the only Lucky One.
Within a vortex in the black deep sea, a member of the Long-Hand Tribe picked up a dazzling golden conch. All around him lay the corpses of sea beasts that had slaughtered one another.
On a chaotic battlefield filled with blood and killing, amid countless places where lives had ended and heaps of corpses, a deserter playing dead felt around and found a purse. Inside was a silver dagger carrying an eerie aura.
High in the towering snowy mountains, an ecological survey team trapped by a sudden blizzard had gone without food or water for two days. With their retreat cut off, one young team member gritted his teeth and ventured deeper into the mountains. In his confusion and daze, he encountered an auspicious beast shimmering in seven colors.
Miracles and fortuitous encounters had suddenly become cheap.
Though most encounters were far from pleasant, there would always be some people, some things, that received "fate's favor."
This time, however, it might not have been Its arrangement.
The world had fallen into crisis. Too many gateways to other realms had opened, too many "foreign evil gods" had entered, and too many alien races were fighting over living space. Even the native inhabitants had lost the favor of their homeland.
Although the personality of the World's Will had fallen asleep, the survival instinct possessed by most worlds had fully awakened