Chapter 313

He took a look.

Conan's eyes instantly turned into dots.

Uncle Mouri was fawning over a hot-bodied exotic beauty who was also waiting in line; naturally, his lecherous posture was quickly rewarded with a roll of the eyes.

Returning with a dejected expression, Ran stood with her hands on her hips and lectured him.

"Uncle, that..."

"Which one? Damn it, to think she'd actually look down on me for being old, when she's clearly over three hundred years old herself."

Kogoro Mouri grumbled incessantly.

"Uncle..."

Conan continued to speak.

Kogoro Mouri sighed: "Sigh, who knows if it's a good thing or a bad thing that these barbaric and cruel otherworldly people with no sense of awe have come to Earth.

Sigh, forget it, that's for the big shots to worry about; there's nothing we small fries can do."

Watching Uncle Mouri chuckle and lean in toward another exotic beauty.

For a moment, Conan couldn't tell if his uncle was hinting at something or if he was truly just that lecherous.

Well, the lecherous part was definitely real.

But...

"Something for the big shots to worry about?"

Conan slumped his shoulders in frustration.

Past cases had given him the illusion that as long as he solved the crime, the bad guys would definitely be punished.

It was all thanks to his efforts.

But at this moment, he clearly felt that it wasn't him who made the bad guys pay, but violence and absolute power.

Otherwise, it would be just like now—never mind solving cases, what would it matter if these powerhouses killed people right in front of you?

The violence capable of punishing them was the fundamental factor.

He clearly felt a sense of powerlessness.

He clearly felt the arrival of a grand era—an era where other worlds swarmed and linked, an era of universal transcendence, an era where power decided everything.

It was too cruel for ordinary people...

Bang.

"What are you thinking about, kid?"

Kogoro Mouri, having failed once again, walked over, hammered a fist onto his head, and nodded with satisfaction.

That was the feeling, alright.

"What are you doing, Uncle Mouri?"

Conan glared at him, clutching the large bump on his head.

"Tsk, arrogant brat..."

Kogoro Mouri lit a cigarette and said leisurely: "To have expectations on your own, to be pessimistic on your own, to define others on your own—you really aren't cute."

"Huh?"

"The big shots are much wiser than you imagine, you know."

Kogoro Mouri exhaled a ring of smoke.

Conan followed the smoke ring and looked over; there were many joyful people who, in the past, were just part of the masses, their lives mapped out from the start.

But at this moment, their mouths were split wide, their eyes filled with the light of hope.

"Why is it like this?"

Conan was stunned, and for once, he stopped acting, unable to help but ask: "With such great danger, and so many people dead, shouldn't they be terrified and afraid?"

"Because they finally see hope, because they were given a chance."

Kogoro Mouri sighed.

What kind of hellish country is Japan.

Having climbed up from the bottom, he understood this deeply.

The number of people who commit suicide every year, even excluding those who were 'helped' to suicide, is a terrifying figure.

The true bottom-dwellers live in a life of hopelessness, numbness, and repetitive mechanical existence.

Class mobility only exists in legends.

A lawyer's son remains a lawyer; a corporate slave's son remains a corporate slave.

Utterly hopeless.

Living numbly, and merely just living.

And a chance—a chance to let their family live a happy life—is such a shining, precious treasure to the bottom of society.

How could Conan, who was born into luxury and never understood the life of the bottom-dwellers, understand their thoughts? Understand how precious such a life-changing opportunity is?

Even if it meant gambling with their lives, the people at the bottom would drink it down in a frenzy of joy.

How could he know?

Besides...

Kogoro Mouri looked at the bustling crowds in the square and the scattered powerhouses.

It was very obvious.

Ordinary people have something protecting them, and the probability of death is shockingly low.

"What truly merciful gods."

Kogoro Mouri sighed lightly, offering praise.

Regardless of whether they consider themselves gods, they are truly worthy of being the gods who redeem the masses.

Feeling the wrist inside his sleeve, a scarlet mark spread bit by bit, forming an emblem resembling a trident.

Kogoro Mouri didn't pay it any mind, stood up tall, and walked off with a swagger.

"Let's go, kid, we're going home..."

205. Inuyasha: Coach, I don't want to be a Great Demon anymore, I want to be human!

"We should hurry up and leave too."

The transmigrator Miroku glanced toward the doorway.

That exotic hero, Reinhard, was already resting against the wall, and the one continuously injecting holy power into the doorway had long since been replaced by that beautiful silver-blue-haired girl named Tachibana Kanade.

Her delicate little face was calm and expressionless, what people in this world call "kuudere."

But to be recognized by the Holy Spirit, she was considered the one with the highest compatibility.

Every moment, her aura grew stronger without reason or logic; just walking this path, she had already broken through a dozen levels.

She had long since surpassed him, and he even felt she was stronger than Inuyasha, who had stepped into the Fourth Order as a Great Demon thanks to the God's Tomb opportunity.

No.

In terms of combat power, she could probably beat ten Inuyashas with one hand.

After all, a Holy Spirit of the same rank probably has no opponents; even if one existed, it would only be a 'cheater' like a Heroic Spirit.

"Is this the Kingdom of God?"

Miroku sighed softly.

Under countless opportunities, yesterday's mortal might be someone you can only look up to today.

Of course, he had no right to say such things.

At his young Confidential Confidential Age, reaching this level, was it all due to his own hard work?

If that were the case, then it shouldn't have been his grandfather who sealed Kaguya, but his grandmaster.

No.

Truly speaking of talent, he might not have been qualified to inherit his family's thousand-year legacy.

To put it bluntly, it was all thanks to his reincarnation.

The distracting thought flashed by, and Miroku glanced at Kaguya in the distance, not looking again.

That near-god being who once made him feel suffocated and desperate—there were seven or eight of them in this crowded square, and weren't they all obediently waiting in line?

That Glory Knight was watching.

That person represented the will of one of the giants of this supreme world, the Kingdom of God.

"Miroku, how about... we stay in the modern world for a while first."