The defeated saint is also on the way to tame the evil god today

　I feel bad when I think about the illegal treatment she suffered, and I feel even worse when someone packages this kind of thing into a commodity to sell and attract attention.

　When I think about the possibility that a lot of people would like this kind of thing, I start to have trouble understanding the market.

　That's probably what I mean. Well... there are many similar situations, such as the "Dating a Drug Addict" on a certain site before. If you are interested, you can search it. Anyway, it is constantly touching the edge of the law. Just understand what I mean.

　People's desire threshold will only increase with the stimulation. Once people get used to a stimulation point, they will pursue more stimulating things and fall into the abyss of desire.

　It is true that it is better to drain than to block, but we cannot turn a trickle into a torrent.

　But in today's fast-food environment, it seems that everyone thinks the flood is not big enough.

　Short videos and live broadcasts without any bottom line endanger the safety of oneself and even others in order to attract attention. This era seems to be rejecting high-quality products, and I increasingly feel that I have lost my foothold.

　Because in addition to interesting content, I want to write something serious.

　But this seriousness seems a bit childish in this era.

　The measure of a work has gradually turned to its performance, opponents are automatically labeled as "envious people", and entertainment to death seems to have become the norm.

　When I was a kid, I thought fan circles were ridiculous. Those pretty boys were only attractive because of their looks, and when fans in the fan circle cursed people, they would only say "my brother has achieved so many things", but they couldn't refute their poor acting skills.

　Later, I wanted to be a writer, so I started writing, thinking that it might be a quiet environment.

　After all this time, it's still exactly the same.

　Maybe I am destined not to fit into such an environment, and I may earn a lot less money because of it.

　It doesn’t matter. Since I wrote my first book, I never thought of competing with my head for the land. I am not a beggar.

　It's not just online literature, whether it's streaming media or self-media, I've watched friends who have devoted themselves to creating content leave the stage one by one, and watched marketing accounts occupy half of the market like breeding insects, making a fortune every day.

　In their eyes, whoever makes more money is the boss, so I never said anything in public.

　As I grew up, I became less talkative, stopped criticizing passionately, and learned to keep to myself.

　But disappointment accumulates over time.

　I miss the days when I was a kid, sitting on the balcony and spending an entire afternoon reading a copy of Charles IX. Back then, I simply loved words, the thrills of the stories, and the way the characters dancing on the paper came alive in the sunlight.

　It wasn't until recently that I realized that the words I like and the words they like are not the same thing.

　I don’t know how long this love can burn.

　Well, damn, I'm just complaining. I'm not targeting any author, any work, or any reader. It's right to choose the books you like to read. I'm just rambling on about my own thoughts.

　Don't take it personally.

　I'm actually not very angry because I made a lot of money from writing last year. At least it's a lot of money for me, enough to stay at home for a year or two.

　Those who know me well know that I never envy my peers who earn more. I always think it is a great thing that someone can make a lot of money by writing. If he becomes popular, he will have more readers and the cake will be bigger. I am also a beneficiary and we all make money together.

　I just want to say that literary creation needs a bottom line, and the pursuit of desires also needs a bottom line.

　Desire can be a life booster if used well, but can be a poison if used poorly.

　I don't want to be a drug addict, nor do I want to sell desire without any bottom line.

　Of course, these are my values, they do not represent anyone, nor do they mean I am preaching to anyone.

　It's just a random thought, don't take it seriously. I'm not a master of philosophy.

　I'm also not interested in reaching a consensus.

　I sell fantasies, I sell little stories that I like, and I like everyone to like them.

　Thank you again for your company. What I can promise is that my works will always be pure land.

　Thank you for reading my book.

　This book will definitely be finished. As mentioned in terms of length, it will be 200-300 million words, and it will not be discontinued unless something major happens.

　I’m not sure whether the next book will still be published here. Let’s see what the trend will be by then.

　If the wind direction is really too unfavorable...Alas, I don't think I can write that kind of thing...and I probably won't achieve any results.

　No more chattering. It’s already past two in the morning when I write this. Time to go to bed.

　See you in Volume 3, "Tower of Stars"!

　★Tower of Stars

　Prologue) Morning Dew, Flowers, and Dead Crows

　The crow still remembers the days when the night sky was still gentle.

　The world at that time was a garden. The breeze blew across the green water and green mountains, creating ripples in the pond and swaying the lotus flowers left and right.

　By the pond, white pigeons were playing happily, their small white ankles paddling on the clear water surface, splashing glass-like crystal water droplets into the air, which were frozen in the sunlight.

　The crow likes to take a bunch of grapes to the garden sometime in the afternoon.

　I found a branch in the corner and looked at the pond from afar.

　He loved watching the pigeons play, their pure white wings fluttering around the pond, accompanied by laughter and playful noises.

　From time to time, a giant dragon would streak across the sky, spewing out a pitch-black breath that dyed the sky black. Angels trailing golden stars followed closely behind, planting golden stars one by one in the night sky.

　The white doves always look up at the sky, watching the golden stars with shining eyes, and long to fly as high as them one day.

　The crow didn't care much. He didn't like soaring in the sky. He was the guardian of the garden. His black wings made it difficult for him to blend into the flock of pigeons, but he didn't like to fit into the group either.

　He preferred to be alone, just watching over everyone.

　Sometimes, he would read poems written by the elves, who would visit the garden every few decades, saying that they wanted to pay tribute to the great "angel" and would report to the crows from time to time on the status of their tribe.

　Crow had never left the garden, but he loved making friends with the elves. Unlike other species that changed their presence each time they visited, the lovely elves always came in the same group.

　Ten years is a very short time for them, and their meeting is like a glass of wine and a bunch of grapes.

　I heard from the elves that the outside world is becoming more and more prosperous. The imperial capital is built in the desert, the elven royal city is towering into the clouds, and the giants have piled stones to the height of the Caradorans Mountains. It is said that sitting on the top of the royal court, one can even overlook the dragon kingdom on the other side.

　The elf asked the crow if he wanted to go for a walk and he would treat him. The crow smiled and said forget it.

　Although he longed for the outside world, he couldn't take his eyes away.

　His eyes always loved to look at the corner of the pond - there belonged a young white pigeon.

　In fact, the crow didn't know whether he should call her a white dove, because her feathers were not pure white, but mixed with a few black feathers, which was quite conspicuous.

　I don’t know if it’s because of its feathers, but the little white dove is always very quiet and doesn’t like to chat with its sisters. Most of the time, it just sits by the pond, gently stirring the water with its slender little feet.

　She looked lonely, but she didn't show much sadness.

　Crow felt that she was very similar to himself.

　On a moonlit night, when golden stars filled the sky, the crow flew down from the branch and came to the little white dove.

　He sat down by the pond, bravely turned his head and looked at the little white dove.

　"Why do you always stay here alone?" asked the crow.

　"I like quiet." said the little white dove.

　"Everyone is having a great time. Don't you want to play with us?" asked the crow.

　“Seeing everyone happy makes me happy too.”

　The little white dove looked back in the moonlight and gave the crow a sweet smile.

　The crow's eyes trembled slightly, and he quietly moved his gaze away, looking at the pond under the moon.

　"I like quiet too," said the crow.

　"Yeah." The little white dove nodded.

　The two of them sat by the pond, looking at the pond under the moon, and no one spoke.

　This glance means that a hundred years have passed.

　When the elf visited the garden again, he found that the crow was no longer sitting alone on the branch. There was a little white dove beside him, and the two were reading quietly.

　"You haven't been here for a long time," the crow flew down from the branch, "what happened?"

　Shenli worriedly told the crow about the situation outside: the starlight in the sky became strange, the sun was always getting closer and farther away, extreme high temperatures and extreme cold waves swept across the earth every ten years, but no one's prayers were answered.

　"If this goes on, the giant's castle will collapse," he said.

　The crow nodded, indicating that he would ask, and then flew back to the branch.

　As soon as he sat down, the little white dove put down the book and leaned over curiously:

　"That's an elf from outside, right?"

　"Yes," the crow nodded, then immediately became surprised, "You know elves?"

　"There are some in the book you showed me," the little white dove smiled, "I want to make friends with them too."

　"Could I have said hello just now?"

　"I dare not." The little white dove was a little shy.

　The crow was stunned for a moment, then scratched his head:

　"Well, next time I'll take you to say hello to them."

　"it is good."

　The little white dove showed its signature cute smile again and said:

　"I want to ask them if there really are oceans and mountains."

　"Of course," the crow nodded. "The sea is much wider than a pond, and a mountain is taller than a tree."

　"Have you seen it?" The little white dove's eyes lit up.

　Meeting the expectant gaze of the little white dove, the crow suddenly felt a little embarrassed.

　"I... haven't seen it either." He said angrily.

　But the little white dove was not disappointed at all. He held the crow's hand and smiled sweetly:

　"Well, can you take me with you next time? We can go quietly and won't cause them any trouble."

　A little light flashed in the crow's eyes, and he nodded immediately:

　"it is good!"

　"It's a deal then. We'll go out together and travel around the world."

　"must."

　But the crow never fulfilled his promise, and the little white dove failed to make friends with the elf.

　That day, the elves visited the garden again.

　His body was burning with flames and he was about to die, but his golden eyes were still shining brightly.

　"Save my people," he said. "It's raining fire...it's raining fire outside..."

　After saying this, he fell on the lawn in the garden

　Above, the body was charred.

　The garden was suddenly in chaos. The white doves flapped their wings, and the tranquility of the pond was broken. The waves collided with each other on the water surface like broken glass.

　"Stay here and protect yourself!" The crow grabbed the little white dove's shoulders and looked straight into her frightened eyes. "I'm going to save them!"

　With that, the crow flew out of the garden, its black wings flapping as it soared under the sky burned by flames.

　For the first time, he saw the world outside the garden - green mountains and clear waters, but also wildfires raging across the land.

　Flames fell from the sky, the sun burned the clouds, and flowing magma splashed onto the earth, creating high mountains on the ground.

　While avoiding the rain of fire, the crows sang garden songs in the sky, guiding the creatures who were lost in the rain of fire.

　He saw the giant's towering castle - the castle was split in two by a beam of solar prominence material falling from the sky. The upper half collapsed and was melted into magma by the rain of fire in the process.

　He saw the imperial city in the desert being destroyed by flames, and the creatures in the sea of ​​fire began to fall into the deepest river in the world.

　Then he saw the dragon.

　A giant six-winged dragon streaked across the sky like a star, and the pitch-black night followed closely behind, covering the sky and hiding the rain of fire.

　And above the sky that had not yet been covered, a huge crack was torn open, and an eye leaked out from it.

　Golden sun.

　The moment Crow looked directly into those eyes, his consciousness instantly shattered into countless discrete pieces.