The only thing Wang Qi worried about was that the clause "must not interfere in the Ming Clan's internal affairs" would leave Gandonggon dissatisfied.
Look at it from another angle, and it was like "I know of a broad, level road that reaches the heavens, but I cannot tell everyone about it."
If that happened to Wang Qi, how could he possibly endure it?
What had he told the surviving cultivators of Linghuang Island back then?
For Wang Qi, if there was a correct path but he could not drag others onto it to share it together... that would be far too unbearable.
So even if he had to force it, use violence, or stuff it down their throats, he would cram the "path" he approved of into other people's mouths.
There existed a "Dao" in the world, an "Eternal Dao"; there existed one sole "truth." Then the absolute distance between different paths and "correctness" should also exist. In his view, what he did was save people from the sea of suffering and let them enjoy the fruits of modern civilization.
As for what those people thought in their hearts, Wang Qi did not care in the slightest. Even if someone used his achievements while harboring resentment toward him, it did not matter.
Rather, he liked seeing that look on people's faces—full of hatred, yet helpless against him, forced to use his achievements anyway.
The more it was like that, the more it proved that his accomplishments were a kind of "truth" that could not be erased by stance or emotion.
"I still don't get it." Wang Qi sighed. "Why did that old man agree so readily?"
Ke Like gave a faint laugh. "Fellow Wang, you understand Ancient Methods too, don't you?"
Wang Qi glanced at his ring. "I used