Before saying this, Stoker's face had been full of hesitation, as though his mouth were filled with blasphemous heresy. But when the words finally left his lips, his voice wasn't particularly loud, yet his expression had become resolute.
And so, in that moment, the blasphemer became a martyr. The light of righteousness shone on the young man's face.
He looked Yu Lian straight in the eye with unwavering conviction, as if to say, Everything I said is true. Even if you're unhappy, I still have to say it. The next moment, Yu Lian smacked him on the back of the head.
Stoker clutched the back of his head, looking crestfallen, and lowered it.
"Good. I like that rebellious streak of yours. Just remember to show it next time you face the emperor, too," Yu Lian sneered.
As the only psychic present whose power came from within himself, he guaranteed that he really hadn't felt the slightest bit offended. Not the slightest bit rattled. His mood had just fluctuated a tiny, tiny bit.
Thinking of that, he couldn't help glancing at the other background character present, Buska. The engineer, whose skin was so dark it gleamed red, had already put on a guileless smile that perfectly matched the stereotypes about his people: clear, untainted eyes and a pure, uncomplicated grin.
He seemed to have given up thinking. It was hard to tell whether he truly couldn't understand or simply thought he shouldn't.
Yu Lian shrugged, then flipped to the last page of Tan Jize's letter. When he didn't find that argument there, he turned to the final section in the table of contents, whose opening was titled "The Origins of Violence and Organization."
That title had a certain ring to it! Yu Lian mused. He skimmed the first few paragraphs, barely