One Death Could Never Grant Your Wish; Let the Rest of Your Life Be Entangled in Sin

"There are no absolutes in this world. Perhaps in your eyes, the Central Plains are vast, with billions of common people, rich in literary brilliance and deep foundations. Foreign tribes simply cannot swallow it whole or hold it down, so you act with reckless abandon, unconcerned that divine artifacts may sink into ruin. But if everyone shared your mindset, would that not become the will of the people? Then foreign tribes settling in the Central Plains would be nothing strange at all!"

Qiu Yan looked at Han Bian and spoke these words. At once, within the bewildering Void of the consciousness world, a bolt of lightning flashed, striking toward the incarnations of Fortune.

"Absurd! How can that count as the will of the people?" Han Bian's expression changed. He seemed to have thought of something, losing his composure as he hurriedly refuted him. Around the incarnations of Fortune, black Literary Thought immediately spread, turning into mist that shrouded them and resisted the thunder's assault.

Qiu Yan shook his head and merely said, "The weight of the people's will lies in guiding the great tide. Be they aristocratic families, scholars, bureaucrats and clerks, merchants and peddlers, they can all, to a certain extent, blind the people and distort the places where public sentiment reveals itself. What is even more shameless is that much of the resentment born from aristocratic families is given ingenious labels and shifted onto the court's head, while those families transform themselves as though they no longer care for their own interests, instead crying out on behalf of the common folk..."

As he spoke, his tone grew grave. "In this way, it is like storing up water, until the people's will is utterly distorted. Would that not be the will of the people? You just told the incarnations