This was an epic poem describing Cloud City.
"Beneath the clouds lay the earth, above it stretched boundless white seas of cloud, and giants shaped from White Jade sang and danced."
"The friendly giants invited mortals, granting them gold and the blessings of elder brothers."
The poem was long, its grammar subtle, but its full three thousand words told the story of a prosperous giant civilization.
The giant subrace in the tale was friendly and artistically gifted. They held all sorts of balls and performances in their Cloud City, even taking the initiative to invite mortals, dragons, and beastfolk to participate, granting the final victors "blessings" as well as wealth.
It sounded rather nice, didn't it?
"The Cloud War Chariots of villains from the heavens endlessly patrolled the world, hunting surface-dwelling creatures for their amusement. They forced them into cruel gladiatorial contests and performances, then turned the losers into meals to be devoured while watching."
Yet in the records of the ancient Orcs, they were a demonic race.
There was an obvious contradiction. Which side was telling the truth?
"Both sides were probably telling the truth."
Lu PingAn vaguely realized that perhaps only "true information" could withstand the test of history in this world.
From the giants' perspective, they were the elder brothers of all living things. Naturally, they could choose among their "younger brothers," eliminating and casually disposing of the weak.
But for the creatures of the earth, hundreds or thousands of individuals would be taken away, and in the end, perhaps only one would be sent back.
Even if they returned with gold and so-called blessings, what did it matter?
Lu PingAn put down the "book" and sighed.
This was real history—not some beautiful Heroic Epic, nor any flawless grand narrative.
A tortuous upward path filled with conflicting