Chapter 1054: Chapter 251: Today, Did You Pray Too? (2)

Today, the ice element dressed in a red gown, with the ends of her hair trimmed unusually neat, as if meticulously measured, like a horizontal cut that rests at the slenderest part of her waist. The entire hairstyle had no adornments or braiding, presenting a minimalist yet stern beauty.

"You can continue the conversation."

The ice element spoke in a voice identical to Lindong’s, "Or do you think senior sister can’t understand your thoughts?"

"I’m just curious, since the Lord of the Holy City pursuits absolute equality of happiness, why create such disparity?"

If viewed from the "creator’s" perspective, molding a group of similar-looking individuals is the simplest and most convenient way. Elaborating on each individual’s life setting only to hollow out their minds later seemed, to Ethan, a great waste of computing power, akin to an act as absurd as removing one’s pants to fart.

"Because this allows civilization to maintain its original state, perhaps its creator dislikes change."

The ice element said, "Say, why did those people go to the Sanctuary of Logic?"

She assisted Ethan in replenishing his thoughts.

"To seek spiritual solace."

That’s what the people in the Far West did.

Reality cannot be changed, so they can only seek spiritual liberation from the elusive gods, even though they know that confessions and prayers won’t bring any substantial changes to their lives. Even requiring them to spend a considerable amount to purchase a Redemption Ticket, yet they still gladly partake.

Because perhaps this is the only way that allows them to sleep at night.

"But these people are obviously different."

Ethan realized the ice element’s intent of gradual persuasion, although they equally could not change the situation, but even when Mr. Flynn Seine was indifferent to everything happening to him, upon being diagnosed with a terminal illness home, he could still embrace his wife to sleep peacefully.

This news even didn’t impact his family in any way. Only Flynn developed a new habit of "drinking" afterwards.

He wasn’t in pain, yet he would drink excessively like someone in great anguish.

While drinking, he was calm and composed, as if a program in the void was controlling him, believing at this time that he should enter a stage of drowning his sorrows with alcohol.

"At least today, Mr. Flynn knows why he came to the bar to drink."

The ice element glanced at Flynn who stumbled and walked aimlessly towards the bar.

At the moment when his pain slightly receded due to the tranquilizer, alcohol flashed in his mind.

No longer concerning the taste of different varieties or judging how much allows him to sleep endlessly; those rational opinions distanced themselves from him, leaving only a single thought in his mind — he needed alcohol.

No rational explanation needed, only a desire originating from his heart.

Ethan was sitting at the table next to Flynn.

Just as the electric element had said, this man’s dye vat was almost entirely black, and the emotions accumulated over the years exploded at this moment, nearly overwhelming the dye vat.

He deliberately raised his voice so Flynn at the next table could hear his conversation with the ice element, "The great third seat lady recently discovered a significant breakthrough in the biological field, research indicates that long-term excessive drinking can lead to tumor shrinkage, and there’s even a one in a thousand chance of causing recovery in patients!"

No one around cared, for speaking nonsense while drunk was an essential part of the bar’s environment.

Even the bartender continued with his work without even lifting his eyes.

Except Flynn Seine.

His right hand holding the glass suddenly trembled, and he looked towards the high-talking Ethan.

This was a bar; there were people drunk here every day, but he never cared about the contents of other customers’ conversations.

"Oh oh, I heard about that." The ice element immediately chimed in, "I also heard of an obscure anecdote, you know? Actually, the experiment wasn’t smooth sailing; that miraculously recovered patient experienced intense chest pain during a previous check-up, so severe that even trust in the Holy City’s Lord couldn’t ease his pain..."

"Hey, lower your voice, such talk shouldn’t be thrown around!"

In Flynn’s eyes, those two drunk people were talking nonsense, never once glancing at him, those words couldn’t withstand scientific scrutiny, this was probably another rumor crafted by some people, attaching the third seat lady’s name just to make their babble sound more convincing.

But in reality, everyone knew they were talking nonsense.

However...

Why did he need to watch the two strangers at the next table with whom he’d never in his life intersect?

Along with the pain, more complex changes surfaced.

Flynn felt his heart was pounding fiercely due to the absurd talks from the next table, the emotions surging within at times overshadowed the pain, even making him entertain another uncontrolled thought.

— He had just experienced chest pain, mirroring the symptoms they mentioned.

These thoughts made Flynn almost throw the alcohol aside, his only remaining consciousness kept sending him the same signal.

What if this research is valid?

He still had enough time to go to the hospital for another check-up.

There’s no harm in checking again.

But does he truly want to place hope in the boozed-up nonsense of strangers?

Huh...?

Flynn shivered abruptly.

Hope.

At a moment, he felt this term leapt out from the vocabulary in his mind, transforming into something tangibly existent.

That day, Flynn changed his long-standing habits — he didn’t finish the alcohol he ordered, nor did he drink himself into oblivion. He held onto his somewhat blurred consciousness, heading towards the hospital.

He was about to engage in an act irrationally explained.

He believed that excessive drinking could cure terminal illnesses.

Taking the elevator to the eleventh floor, waiting in the waiting room in a long and agonizing queue, Flynn leaned against the bench, the patients here appeared like stagnant water, no different from how he was the last time he came here, when he learned he had a terminal illness, his heart remained unruffled.

Because, before that, he had vaguely sensed the way his life would conclude.

It wasn’t long before a shocked doctor approached him and called him into the consultation room.

"Mr. Flynn, drinking cannot cure cancer, and the third seat lady hasn’t published any relevant research findings... Therefore, I believe the more significant possibility is we misdiagnosed your condition last time, please forgive us."

The young doctor said something else, but Flynn couldn’t quite remember.

It was probably offering an apology for having messed up his life.

But now, Flynn doesn’t want to hear any apologies, nor does he intend to hold anyone accountable.

The drunken nonsense from the bar, the hospital’s misdiagnosis, and whether or not the third seat lady ever published corresponding research results didn’t matter to him at all now.

Only a single notion remained in his mind, so strong it suppressed the impact of alcohol within his body.

Flynn returned home.

His wife was sitting on the living room sofa, watching a TV drama, surprised by her husband’s violation of the routine when he arrived home.

This time, Flynn didn’t speak much.

He didn’t even have the leisure to share this "miracle" with his wife, instead, he adhered to the thought in his mind, followed a nearly instinctual urge.

He embraced his wife, no longer following the marital norms by the book.

This was an ardent embrace.

He kissed his wife, lightly biting her lips, feeling her weight and taste.

The two retreated all the way to the bedroom, at this moment, it seemed his wife too was affected by the fiery emotion affecting her likewise, she responded to Flynn’s rhythm, their bodies entwined with one another, as if determined not to loosen their grip.

Until, both fell heavily onto the large bed inside the bedroom.