Who Is This Written For?

Li Wei arrived at the factory early, but the boss he was looking for, Mr. Ervin, wasn't there.

He wasn't in a hurry about it, though. According to the original owner's memories, Mr. Ervin's business had grown from a family workshop into this small factory. His home was right next to the factory, and his entire family lived in the building beside the workshop floor.

This wealthy man was still deeply dedicated to his career, personally inspecting the workshop almost every evening.

Li Wei just needed to wait patiently, and it wouldn't be hard to meet this Mr. Ervin.

As for now, it wasn't time for the shift change yet, so he joined the other workers waiting for the night shift, chatting idly with them.

They were all rough Zaunites with little cultural or entertainment life in their daily routine, so when they gathered, nothing refined came out of their mouths. The conversation inevitably spiraled into gutter talk.

They rambled on about wild Zaunite girls, Piltovan ladies, Shuriman female mercenaries, beautiful Bilgewater pirates, young Freljord Warmothers, and even all sorts of beast-eared women from Ionia. The stories grew more outlandish, and Li Wei found himself getting into the spirit of it.

"Hey, Summoner,"

Janna, tucked away in his pocket, frowned—though as a bird now, she had no real brow to furrow.

Finally, she couldn't help but ask through thought: "Summoner, is this your plan? Sitting here idly, wasting all your time on these vulgar topics?"

"Just small talk. And what's this about vulgar topics? Ahem, I'm human too, you know."

"Honestly, I'd like to find a pretty wife in Runeterra myself. Preferably something non-human that doesn't exist on Earth. Something with beast ears, wings, a tail, living skin—I'm fine with any of it."

Janna: "..."

She silently decided that even if she regained her power, she'd avoid turning back into human form as much as possible.

"But didn't you say the workers are our natural followers?" Janna challenged. "If so, why aren't you spreading your ideas to them instead of telling dirty jokes?"

"You said Zaunites need to think—why not start inspiring them to think right now?"

Janna pressed him with questions.

Li Wei couldn't help but laugh: "Janna, Janna, you've been a deity for too long. You're a bit out of touch with the ground."

"Do you really think my theories are some kind of brainwashing music, that I could just blast them through a loudspeaker in the factory and have everyone listen in rapt fascination?"

"Well..." Janna fell into thought.

"Do you know about Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs?"

Of course she didn't.

Janna had just learned a new term.

"This theory divides human needs into five levels from bottom to top. Applied to the targets we want to develop, those five levels would be:"

"Physiological (filling your stomach), Safety (protecting life and property), Social (having organizations and like-minded friends), Esteem (gaining social recognition), and Self-Actualization (pursuing great ideals)."

Janna had spent millennia helping the common folk, so she wasn't some clueless fool who'd ask, "Why don't they eat cake?"

The moment Li Wei said this, she understood immediately:

Those Zaunite apprentices could barely fill their stomachs, lived in constant fear under the dual oppression of gangs and Enforcers, and had no guarantee of safety at all.

With their most basic physiological and safety needs unmet, was he supposed to talk to them about self-actualization and great ideals?

"I'm starving and hauling bricks here—why would I have the mind to listen to some educated fool spouting bookish nonsense?"

"To mobilize them, we need to have some strength first—at least enough to fill their bellies, keep them safe from threats, and let them see hope for victory in the struggle."

"That's why the article I wrote was never meant for the apprentices to read directly."

"Then who was it for?" Janna asked.

"For those who can eat their fill, have time to think, but aren't living well—people who've suffered some hardship and felt oppression."

"You mean..." Janna thought for a moment. "Piltovan workers?"

"Sort of," Li Wei hesitated.

Piltover had its commoners and workers too, and in theory, they could be targets for development.

But these Piltovans...

Their lives were way too comfortable!

Even if they did basically the same work, even in the same factory, a Piltovan worker's benefits were ten times better than a Zaunite apprentice's.

They only worked eight hours a day, five days a week, and half a year's salary was enough to buy a Hextech Flyer.

They lived in houses, ate steak, wore suits, drove Flyers, and flaunted it all in front of those miserable Zaunites every day. Life couldn't be sweeter.

A mud-splattered Zaunite goes to talk to them about faith...

Those Piltovan workers would probably just laugh and say, "Jannaism? What's that? The life I'm living right now—isn't that exactly what you're calling Jannaism?"

If they were the rude sort, they might even throw out some slurs like "Sewer Rats" or "Go back to Zaun."

Li Wei believed there were bound to be some sympathetic allies among the Piltovans, but the original owner's memories, filled with pain and suffering, constantly reminded him that Piltovans weren't friends.

At least, he couldn't be too naive.

"Actually, compared to these Piltovan workers who've been bought off by the excess profits that developed capitalism grabs through military, tech, and financial hegemony..."

"I'd rather prioritize developing those Zaunite immigrants living in Piltover."

"They can already eat their fill, but they've truly suffered hardship. These people should understand us better."

Li Wei voiced his opinion.

Janna immediately pinpointed the most accessible target group for them: "For example, Zaunite exchange students in Piltover, like your sister?"

"Yeah." Li Wei nodded.

The Zaunite students in Piltover were indeed his best prospects.

"So how are you going to start?"

"Uh..." Li Wei was stumped.

The ideal was grand, but reality was harsh.

Those exchange students, though born in Zaun, were already favored by Piltover with one foot through the door.

Would they really have the patience to entertain a lowly fellow countryman like him?

That troubled Li Wei.

After all, he was just an armchair general. Talking big was easy; taking action was hard.

"I'll play it by ear."

"There'll always be a chance."

Meanwhile, at Piltover University's Hextech Academy.

Lina hurried to the school, arriving at the classroom where the interview exam was about to be held.

Dozens of people were already in the room. They were all waiting to take the exam, dreaming of becoming Professor Jayce's students—the cream of the crop at the Hextech Academy.

The interview hadn't started yet, and the professors hadn't arrived.

But the students had already split into two distinct groups, each huddling on one side.

Lina knew exactly how they'd divided:

The group on the left were all Zaunite exchange students.

The group on the right were local Piltover students.

Piltover students had always looked down on Zaunite students, seeing them as poor bastards leeching off Piltover's prosperity.

The Zaunite students, on the other hand, tried hard to fit in with the Piltover side, but their warm gestures always met cold shoulders, inviting repeated discrimination and humiliation.

Over time, they'd grown to secretly hate the Piltover students, branding them as spoiled hothouse flowers who only got in thanks to a lucky birth.

And so, like the Twin Cities divided by the canal, these young people studying and living under the same roof naturally split into two camps.

Lina sat down on the left without hesitation, beside her Zaunite compatriots.

But a girl stood up from the Piltover camp.

Clutching a stack of papers, she walked over with an air of arrogance:

"Lina, you finally showed up. I thought you'd chickened out and slipped away, afraid to embarrass yourself in front of Professor Jayce."

"Kaya." Lina gritted her teeth at the silver-haired girl before her.

Kaya Ferros, her classmate, a noble lady from the illustrious House Ferros of Piltover.

Because Lina always outshone her in grades, and the petty Miss Kaya couldn't stand losing to a lowly Zaunite, she'd inexplicably developed a grudge against Lina.

And Lina, unaware of Kaya's background at first, had publicly shut her down several times, leaving Kaya humiliated.

By the time she learned Kaya's surname was "Ferros"—a name few in Piltover dared to cross—

Lina had already become a thorn in Kaya's side, and it was too late to back down.

"Miss Kaya, is there something you need?" Seeing the young lady come looking for trouble again, Lina swallowed her pride and played dumb, forcing herself to act as if nothing was wrong.

But Miss Kaya just lifted her chin elegantly, rustling the stack of papers in her arms, and asked Lina with a teasing tone:

"The teacher asked me to hand these out for the interview exam later."

"Lina, do you want—"

"They're 'free.'"

At the word "free," Lina almost reached out to take the whole stack.

That much paper could buy several loaves of black bread!

But that bitch was smirking.

"No thanks."

Lina ground her teeth and swallowed her pride:

"I brought my own paper!"

Fighting back humiliation, she pulled the notebook with Li Wei's article from her bag and set it on the desk in front of her.

"Tch." Kaya punched the air a few times in frustration, about to say something else.

Just then, footsteps echoed from outside the classroom.

A tall, handsome man in a suit appeared at the doorway.

"It's Professor Jayce!"

Caitlyn could no longer be bothered to make things difficult for Lina, and Lina felt the same.

All the students present lifted their heads in excitement, offering the man their most fervent admiration.

And he was worthy of that worship.

Jayce Talis, the inventor of Hextech, the man leading Piltover into a new era, the symbol of the future of scientific civilization.

The Hextech Academy they attended existed because of this man.

The students naturally idolized Jayce, their eyes fixed on him without pause.

Then, in the shadow of Professor Jayce's brilliance, they belatedly noticed another figure:

A middle-aged man leaning on a cane.

He was pale, with messy curls, heavy dark circles under his eyes, and a gaunt frame. He limped as he walked, as if a gust of wind could knock him over.

Standing next to the robust, radiant Jayce, he seemed like an inconspicuous lackey.

"Who's this gentleman?"

"Hey, I think I've seen him around school. Doesn't he work near the lab?"

Noticing this man appearing alongside the great Professor Jayce, the students couldn't help but speculate about his identity.

"I'm a friend of Jayce's."

"You can call me Professor Viktor."