Chapter 334

The world is full of toil, and all mortals suffer; relying on others or gods for salvation is unreliable—only you can save yourself. If you yearn for light, you may join our cause, striving with your own hands to reshape this world and make it better.

Struggle is long, the future is bright, but the path is winding; during this journey, we must seize every moment to enjoy its joy.

Entertainment such as theater, board games, and songs brings happiness and spreads our ideal of seeking light—we should use cultural and artistic activities as tools to widely disseminate our thoughts and doctrines.

After awakening, Li En sat before his desk and silently wrote these words.

Li En had received the doctrines of “The Lord of Theater and Joy” from the deity, but he did not use them directly.

The same words, when interpreted by different people, become entirely different things; regarding matters of “doctrine,” Li En must keep the authority of interpretation firmly in his own hands.

He could wait—for the successor of the Heroic Spirits to appear, among whom there should be outstanding “religious talent.”

If he negotiated with them, the doctrines might become more complete and better suited to this age—but Li En could not accept a new god’s doctrine contradicting his own “worldview.”

He would have this “Holy Scripture” reviewed by professionals, even allowing minor adjustments—but the core ideas would remain unchanged.

To him, the deity was always a tool and a banner; if it truly came alive, if it truly developed “its own thoughts,” that would be troublesome. If it ever reached that point, Li En would rather it never existed.

“Respect every life; every person must have the right to seek sunlight and enjoy joy.”

Black ink swiftly flowed across the page, and the thick, blank book began to glow with a faint golden light.

Perhaps a sacred power was beginning to flow into it, seeping into the ink, turning the black characters golden.

Li En was writing the deity’s “Holy Scripture”—but it was more than just a scripture.

“Hum!”

In the void, something was reassembling.

Within the void’s plane, within a vast “continent,” a small portion—about 1%—was deliberately torn away and separated.

It was small, roughly one percent, yet possessed enough power to warp reality.

He, or it, or perhaps She, was continuously “reshaping.”

As Li En wrote each character, its core was simultaneously inscribed with new content.

It was like a computing base allocating a few percent of its processing power and several machines to form a virtual machine, now operating as an independent “computing center” for data verification.

At this moment, it could truly be called the birth of a new god.

But since it had no self, being merely a pseudo-deity simulated by vast amounts of “computing power,” perhaps “overclocking” was a more fitting term.

Other deities choose popes who share their interests and bestow upon them divine scriptures; here, the “pope” writes whatever he wishes—the scripture is compiled, then the deity revises itself, forcibly aligning with the pope’s interests.

Li En did not understand what this meant. The prerequisite for all this was the immense power to treat the deity as a puppet.

This, perhaps, was the true strength of the Thousand-Faced Dragon—one of the oldest Guardians of the Ninth Seat.

This investment, too, was destined to yield returns many times over—if this pseudo-deity grew stronger alongside Li En’s rise, perhaps this investment of less than one percent of “computing power” would yield over five percent in return, and might even give birth to a new “computing center” (a part of the system).

“To obtain sunlight and joy, we must at times draw our swords.”

Here, Li En could write no further.

It was not that the “computing power” had reached its limit, but that as the deity of “culture and light,” incorporating doctrines of resistance when necessary had already reached its limit.