Willow God gazed at Meng Chuan's receding figure as he disappeared into the Great Wilderness, lost in thought.
She finally understood what was different about him.
Or rather, she understood one reason he seemed so different.
He was too much like an ordinary person.
His joys, anger, sorrows, and pleasures, every word and every gesture—none of them set him apart from an ordinary person.
Willow God understood why she had always found Meng Chuan so strange.
She had always viewed him through the lens of how she viewed the powerful.
But this man was utterly unlike the powerful figures she had met and dealt with before.
Willow God's ingrained expectations clashed with the way Meng Chuan behaved day to day.
That was why she sometimes found him so peculiar.
This man could rejoice at finding a Tea Tree and grow melancholy at the sight of something else.
He could soften under Little Nonpoint's wide-eyed stare, then act like a child himself, tripping the boy up as he chased birds.
Despite his astonishing origins, he could fit right in with the ordinary Mortals of Stone Village.
When teaching the children, their blockheaded slowness could drive him to slap the table.
And now, with an old grievance weighing on his heart, he was willing to travel ten thousand miles just to clear that gloom from within him.
Willow God had never seen anyone powerful like him. Not once since she came into being.
Even though Willow God was approachable enough herself, the bearing of a powerful being still clung to her.
Meng Chuan had none of it.
Could a person truly reach such heights? Willow God asked herself.
She had seen too many Peerless Immortal Kings. When some had first ascended to kingship, they were spirited and still held their bonds dear,