The moonlight was hazy, spilling a wash of pure, silvery light.
On the way back.
Qin Liuyuan carefully carried a large plastic bag. His feet felt like they were treading on cotton as he walked unsteadily, one step deep, the next shallow.
As for the luggage bag full of money from earlier, even though Chen Shouyi had told him to take it out, how could he have the face to? He'd just dropped it and run.
It must weigh more than five pounds! he thought, excitement barely contained on his face.
This was simply too generous, too extravagant.
Was this the realm of the big shots? He'd handed over several hundred million without even blinking!
He was ready to kneel!
His heart surged with emotion, and he could barely contain himself.
Turns out pride really isn't worth much. Losing face in front of a big shot like Chief Chen is nothing. Who knows how many martial artists want to visit him but can't even get through the door? At least I knew Chief Chen back when we were both nobodies. We're practically old comrades.
He really ought to visit more often from now on.
Chen Shouyi lay on the bed and casually picked up an academic work called Divine Power and Idealism. His eyes raced down the page as he skimmed through it.
For nearly twenty years,
humanity had been feverishly obsessed with studying every aspect of the gods.
But most of the work had been limited to speculation and conjecture.
This book was about a particular theory concerning divine power.
That was,
it was a kind of idealistic force.
Divine power came from the faith of believers and the collective will of the masses. The savage gods then ordered and refined it, turning it into a Mysterious Power that