Isis fell silent for a long time, seeming exhausted.
"It's hard to understand. You poured your heart and soul into nothingness, enduring the torment of an unfaithful, rebellious tool, all for a victory with no meaning whatsoever?" she asked. "I see no need to persist, sir. Is this really worth it?"
"Isn't persistence itself the greatest meaning?" Ji Jue asked in return.
"Why?"
"Because tomorrow will come." Ji Jue controlled his body and smiled. "Someone once said that waiting and hope are the most wonderful things in the world."
"Then there must be something wrong with his brain."
Isis remained impassive. "Doesn't he have to go to work tomorrow?"
"Uh..."
Ji Jue froze. If he still had a physical body, he might have slapped his thigh in astonishment. "You know what? You're right! He doesn't go to work—he's in prison."
Isis fell silent for a moment, as though she could not understand.
Starlight flickered within the container.
"...Sir, what does being in prison mean?"
"Uh..."
Ji Jue thought for a moment before answering, "It means being locked in one place without freedom. You do whatever others tell you to do."
"I understand. I'm going to work, and at the same time, I'm in prison."
Isis suddenly understood. "So the meaning of persistence is to keep going to work and staying in prison?"
"..."
To be fair, that was true.
Ji Jue found himself unable to refute her. He suddenly understood the Prophet even more—imagine working overtime for five or six hundred years, cleaning up after a master who had gone berserk every day, soothing the sentient beings below, watching the situation worsen day after day while being powerless to do anything about it. And she could not even give up and rot; she could only grit her teeth and endure.