Where people were forbidden to worship god, they would worship the wealthy, athletes, or movie stars—even famous prostitutes or gangsters. For the spirit needed nourishment just as the body did. If you gave it no water to drink, it would drink poison to quench its thirst.
Those words came from C.S. Lewis, a theologian and also a writer. He had once believed in Christ, then abandoned that faith in his youth, only to take it up again in middle age.
That was all He Shenyan knew about him—people of the past were already gone, and their virtues, names, and experiences had vanished with them into the long river of history, leaving behind only a few precious things still shining in the boundless Sea of Time. Whenever the waves rose, they would be carried to the shore for others to pick up and read.
In a sense, a person who could keep reading and keep learning was living in luxury. What he read and studied was the crystallization of the blood and tears of countless predecessors, a gathering of wisdom.
And in the galaxy today, only a small number of people possessed that right.
The Mage set down the book in his hand and issued an order. His communication with the Hub had now gradually come close to mental contact and information exchange. If no one else was present, he did not need to speak. A single thought was enough for the Hub to understand his exact needs.
Only he could do such a thing. Apart from him, no one could handle the Hub's complex informational disturbances—in other words, no one aboard the Vengeance besides him possessed the soul strength to bear the massive, ceaseless torrent of information flowing through the Magic Array Hub.
Three seconds later, the Mage watched in