The Strange Little Box

Looking at Jialuo, whose chest had been blasted open by the One-Hit Kill Staff, Richard gently shook his head. After briefly cleaning up the scene, he felt somewhat reflective.

Jialuo had not actually been weak. The fact that he had withstood more than a dozen Guici Model Micro Spell Tracking Missile attacks proved it. But no matter how strong he was, that was all there was to it. For Richard, it merely meant investing more Micro Spell Tracking Missiles—or rather, investing more materials and manufacturing time.

Once he began using magic pattern templates and photolithography to produce Micro Spell Tracking Missiles in small batches, no matter how strong an opponent was, they would amount to nothing more than a number.

In a sense, Jialuo had died unfairly and miserably, like a highly trained elite soldier being killed by a single bullet.

Jialuo and the other Wizards had died not because they had been careless in battle, not because they had revealed a flaw, nor because of any mistake of their own, but because they had been utterly crushed on another level—the level of combat thinking.

And that was precisely what Richard pursued.

Through relentless effort, overcoming all kinds of difficulties, becoming the strongest individual, becoming a king standing at the pinnacle of power—it sounded thrilling and impassioned.

But in Richard's eyes, that was entirely backward.

Hard work was a quality worthy of praise, but trying to solve everything through hard work alone was excessively foolish. Or rather, it was intellectual laziness.

After all, if hard work could solve everything, then those at the top of society should be miners, not potbellied nobles.

In this world, Richard had no interest whatsoever in becoming the strongest. What he wanted was to analyze everything, uncover every principle, and reach the point where he