The moonlight tonight was exceptionally bright, scattering across the window display. Unfortunately, Yang Qizhou was not a man of taste or sophistication. The glaring overhead lamp stayed on, preventing the moonlight from playing its role and, instead, ruining this rare nocturnal scene.
At this moment, he was lying on the couch, munching on snacks he'd freeloaded, squinting his eyes with an expression that seemed rather solemn.
"This piece of information carries significant weight,"
"If one were to compare the Ancient Gods to flowers and plants, then wizards would be akin to gardeners responsible for their cultivation. Without the nurturing of 'wizards,' the status of Ancient Gods can only remain static. Whether it's their authority, symbolism, or concepts, none of it can advance further."
"And this might actually be a more tactful way of putting it..."
