As a private joke, he and Ruem recreated their master’s voice, installing it in Pico’s AI three decades ago. Now their own master’s voice—the master who trained them both—says Ruem isn’t a human. “You’re judging humans. One of your creators, no less,” Yuan says, half-informing, half-praising.“I’m repeating what Ren said.”“Stay here,” the Monk says, leaving Pico near the waterfall. “Are you angry because I said Ruem is not a human?” Pico asks.

Late, as usual,” the Mesmerizer greets. “Were you meditating at every crossroad, Monk?” His eyes hidden beneath his hat.

Yuan hears the animals hundreds of meters away—the ones with hooves running while the pawed ones hunt them. He also hears the birds chirping, the leaves rustling, the waterfall roaring, and the wind speaking. Yes, speaking. Not every High-Grade voices the wind or hears it speak. But he does.

Evolution has its charms. People think harsh training has been its door, but in reality, it was easier to find. The door stood right before their eyes. Always.

Prana heals. Prana kills.Prana helps you evolve. The twinge of guilt comes. It’s hard not to be glad that the Apocalypse happened. Or they never could’ve found the highest possibilities for humans.

Anything intelligent always looks for its source—it’s the oldest law of the universe.

Privilege exists not to be stored in a locker,” Yuan says.

A monk’s purity procured through strict abstention won’t stain. Even a dead bird’s foul feather can’t tinge it.

Are you going to visit your pets?”“They are not pets.”“I think canceling meetings and visiting five-hundred-and-sixty-seven pets isn’t a good idea. Ren wouldn’t call it profitable.”“They are not pets.