The newborn Creator of Wisdom, the Weaver of Wisdom—in all honesty, as a researcher who had found the ultimate answer, he was gradually displaying power worthy of those titles.
Unfortunately, in Fu Qian's eyes, compared with the Thinker he had encountered here at Depth Two, the Creator of Wisdom was still far behind in the realm of thought.
It was like burning a zither to boil a crane: he interpreted everything in the most vulgar way possible.
In that sense, his performance was a good match for the second-rate player who had once hidden behind a door, too afraid to even look his colleagues in the eye.
All in all, he was far too mediocre.
Otherwise, how could he have made such a vulgar guess—that Fu Qian was sitting still to let his guard down, waiting for a chance to strike at the root of the problem and eliminate the current threat once and for all?
As for believing what he'd heard about A Fei, that was even harder for him to understand—
"Are you serious?"
Seeing that Fu Qian really wasn't interested in the grand topic they'd been discussing, and had instead turned his attention back to the two crickets, the Creator of Wisdom looked utterly incredulous.
"To be honest, I can't see any way he could win. Their madness is different."
That was true.
Though he'd reached a different conclusion, Fu Qian could still agree with that analysis.
The two A Feis were certainly mad in different ways.
His own Tool Person had accumulated madness little by little, eventually reaching its limit.
Now that his thoughts were in shambles, he was like a garbage dump after a typhoon: it couldn't get any messier, and yet somehow it did. He could barely take part in the fight except by