The Pathos of Things

The bomb Tong Ji suddenly dropped was a little too enormous. It left Huai Shi's mind buzzing, and he failed to react for a long while.

Just from her teasing tone and description, it was not hard to imagine a group of insatiable madmen pushing the entire Present Realm to the edge of a cliff in order to go one step further.

But after learning so much and experiencing so much over such a long time, how could Huai Shi not understand the hardship and pain within it?

Being a tool was painful. Being born a tool was even more painful.

Especially since he had a choice. He knew what he represented and what he bore. He chose to shoulder it, so as not to disappoint those who believed in him.

So that he and more people could be happy.

From the bottom of his heart, he believed it was something meaningful.

But how could something born as a refrigerator, a television, a microwave, or another refrigerator resist its own fate?

Born because of destiny, dying because of destiny.

All one could say was that it was pitiful and tragic.

Not a fraction of that thousand-year life or endless authority belonged to them. No matter how violently their human side vented itself, it could not resist the prophecy of the end.

Everything had an end.

People died, plants withered, gods fell, and even the Present Realm would one day exhaust its life and plunge into the Abyss. The Three Fates, who foresaw all of this, had long since become dry bones, buried in darkness alongside the dust and webs they had woven.

Who could not resist fate?

Were tools like Ascenders, arts like alchemy, and even the miracles of this world not born for that very reason?

Yet the result