As the gauze-like curtain completely enveloped the entire underground space, Song Siming's phantom began to emerge from the surface of the clay statue, rapidly expanding to the size of an ordinary person before slowly stepping out.
A faint smile rested on the young man's face as he replied, "Why did I do this? Heh heh, of course it was to help you rise within the group."
"Rise?" The anger on Shi Bashi's face intensified, nearly turning the color of pig liver. "This so-called rise of yours was making me go door to door like an idiot trying to sell something, letting me endure the mockery and sarcasm of my brothers and sisters?"
"So, did they agree?" Song Siming paid no heed to Shi Bashi's agitation and calmly asked.
"How could they possibly agree?!" Shi Bashi roared. "In their eyes, I'm practically synonymous with trash!"
"And after this, they'll probably stick another label on me—'idiot'!"
"Do you care that much?" Song Siming casually replied, but his gaze passed over Shi Bashi and fixed on the bare wall behind him.
It was as if something there had captured his attention.
"Of course! Uh... actually, I don't care that much. After all, this is how I've always lived..." Shi Bashi shouted the first half, but his voice grew softer and softer toward the end.
He knew himself well enough.
Otherwise, back when he had squandered all seventy-two planets his father had bestowed upon him, he would have long fallen into depression and wanted to kill himself.
"Then isn't that enough?" Song Siming chuckled. "As long as the goal is achieved, the process doesn't matter."
"But this doesn't achieve the goal either..." Shi Bashi was utterly perplexed. "Those six brothers and sisters of mine didn't accept my plan at all. They just treated me