"Here you go, Mr. Lighthouse." Si Que tilted his palm.

…

[You have obtained (Sima Que's Feather Pen).]

[Si Que's Feather Pen: From now on, you can "rewrite" your story. ]

…

The moment he held the pen, Su Mingan felt as if a flash of inspiration appeared in his mind.

The dark blue whale passed by him, bringing with it the breath of summer sunshine. The green waves of the ceiling flowed in the scent of wisteria.

He felt like he was floating, his inspiration was flowing, his five senses were sensitive, and he seemed to be able to turn this room into an ocean in an instant, or a forest in an instant, or moonlight, a sea of ​​stars, or tall buildings...

"I am the Supreme Creator."

Si Que also floated up, still holding a teacup, and even though there was no seat under him, he still sat upright in the air. Macron and mousse and other desserts floated, like the tea party in Alice's dream.

"With enough imagination, I can make the apple float in the air." He smiled. The apple began to dance like a fairy.

"I can turn the forest into the sky." On the ceiling, lush green branches and leaves hang down in clumps, like an upside-down forest.

"I can make whales coexist with the ground." The dark blue whale brushed against their backs, making short buzzing sounds.

"I can make flames dance in the rain." On the ground, green flames danced in the pink rain.

"I can turn everything I like into the color I want." He spread out his hands, with no pride on his face, only a smile:

"The romance of Lovasa lies in the most magical Creator, which is the characteristic of our civilization."

“The romance of the creator lies in breaking the rules.”

He raised his hand, and a paint tray was poured into his palm, instantly dyeing it with thick colors -

In an instant, whales swam into the forest, stars fell into the waves, and flames slept on the seabed.

“It’s not just about writing a story, it’s about…[creating things that don’t seem to exist].”

"Make gravity disappear, make miracles happen, make wingless birds fly into the sky, and make hell into heaven."

“So that two iron balls no longer fall to the ground at the same time, so that a kilogram of cotton and a kilogram of iron no longer weigh the same.”

“Make reality become ideal, make the impossible become possible.”

"Its essence is like the authority of the Word Spirits of the old days, but it is more romantic and freer than the Word Spirits."

In Su Mingan's palm, the feather pen glowed slightly.

Si Que floated in the air and stretched out one hand towards him.

The wings moved slightly in his flowing purple hair, brushing against the floating apples and oranges:

"So, if you want to follow my path, then use the Creator's method..."

"To 'rewrite' the story set by the world game."

"Using this power that is close to the authority of the Word Spirit..."

"——Kill the Savior Script."

…

Rovatha, surface plane, Lochalsh Parish.

"A long, long time ago, in our Second Era... after Saint Feliude was occupied by the Gunang Empire, Nancy Humphrey, a philosopher from the Bana family, practiced asceticism in the sun for three thousand days and nights, and received a merciful glance from the Radiant Mother Goddess.

“He sent down the first scriptures, so that confused humans could understand the meaning of birth, the sun, the fire, and the eyes.

“First, His right hand symbolizes the Knights of the Dawn, the beings who hold swords for Him and protect justice between nations.

“Secondly, the corners of His robes symbolize the paradoxical hermits, the beings who scrub His dust and pay for their sins in a lifetime of penance.

Thirdly, His left hand symbolizes the guardians of order, who are the ones who hold up the scales for Him and guard the sacredness of order.

Fourthly, His sighing symbolizes the presence of God to the people who praise Him, who are the ones who pass on songs of praise and bless history for Him.

Fifth, His gaze symbolizes the Temple Mount, where the angels who judge sins reside.

Sixth, His wrath symbolizes the interstellar corridor, and the Roxas defend Him against the chaotic and disordered Zerg..."

The bishop closed the canon, concluding today's reading.

Then, the civilians stood up from their seats one by one and walked forward.

"Sir, I have devoted myself to the merciful Lord...but why is my mother still lying in bed sick..." A woman pleaded with the bishop, her eyes full of confusion.

Under the ivory-white stone statue of the Mother Goddess, the benevolent bishop stretched out his old hand:

“Perhaps the Lord just hasn’t heard your voice yet, lost lamb.”

"My...my voice? I swear, my prayers are loud enough. I recite them day and night, just asking the Lord to save my mother." The woman said confusedly.

"Perhaps your voice is drowned out by a louder voice. You know, there are always people more pious than you."

"Well, then what should I do?"

"Don't worry, look over there." The bishop pointed to a small red box next to him and said, "That beautiful and sacred box. As long as you put your valuable rings, necklaces, or bracelets in that box, your prayers will be especially loud among the flock of lambs."

"Oh, God, thank you for your advice, but this is my last medicine money for my mother..."

"Ma'am, put them all down. Compared to medicine...those dry basil leaves and frogman mucus, our devout faith is more useful."

"Bang, bang, bang."

With three crisp sounds, the poor woman used her last piece of jewelry as collateral to buy the "pages of canon law copied by the priest himself" recommended by the bishop, intending to take it back and let her mother eat it.

"Lord, pray for my mother's recovery soon..." She knelt down again and prayed devoutly, her gray hair hanging down like a fragile white dove. Who knows what she and her mother can eat tonight? They don't even have money to buy a piece of black bread.

My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It’s even more exciting later!