Chapter 745 — The Road Never Imagined
Blade of Dawn · Page 3 of 4
Norris heaved a deep sigh. "Alas, I should have known it would come to this. When it comes to feeding countless ordinary people, one truly cannot pin one's hopes on a miracle that can never be replicated."
Hearing his words, Beiyila suddenly repeated softly, "A miracle that can never be replicated..."
"Indeed. Tens of thousands of ordinary people need grain, the Empire needs vast tracts of farmland, and what we need is a solution that can be replicated, promoted, and applied in most places—not a miracle. Otherwise..." Norris said, gazing at the red fruit in his hand, and shook his head with a bitter smile. "Otherwise, it will just become cake on the nobles' dinner tables."
"Cake on the nobles' dinner tables?"
"Delicious, yet reserved for the few," Norris said, shaking his head. "And most people will starve to death outside the castle walls."
Beiyila suddenly fell silent.
The wind swept through the canopy of the Great Sorin Tree, setting the leaves and branches rustling with a clatter.
After a few seconds, she broke the silence. "We never once considered such a path..."
Norris did not catch it clearly. "What path?"
"No, nothing," Beiyila said, shaking her head. "I was simply reminded of something. Not long ago, I arrogantly berated a young man, scolding him for never once lowering his head to look at the lowly. Looking back now... it seems rather laughable."
After a pause, she spoke again. "Mr. Norris, if the only help I can offer here is these fruits, what do you plan to do next?"
"Plan? Why, continue rebuilding this land, of course," Norris said with a smile, speaking calmly. "We will rebuild the main regions along the eastern bank of the Gorgon and around Red Maple, establish camps at the important timber forests, mines, and water sources. We will measure it inch by inch and rebuild it foot by foot. This place will come back to life in time. As long as there are people, there is always hope."
Beiyila said nothing. She remained silent for a long while, watching the old man before her who was already nearing the end of his journey.
But what she truly saw were the people behind this old man.
Those pitching camps in the ice and snow of the Holy Spirit Plain, preparing for next year's planting; those trekking along abandoned roads, transporting supplies and provisions for the reconstruction work; those negotiating and maneuvering at the Empire's borders with neighboring kingdoms, racking their brains to close the grain gap.
One percent transcenders, ninety-nine percent ordinary people.
These ordinary people intended to achieve a miracle that even the transcenders deemed impossible.
She closed her eyes, but she could only close the eyes of this mimetic body. The Great Sorin Tree's perception remained open, allowing her to see the entire Sorin region clearly and to sense herself with perfect clarity.
A giant tree nearly the size of a town, a canopy rising almost to the clouds, a powerful natural force field, an unimaginable transcendent power.
What a colossal miracle the End of All Things Society had created—a miracle that could make any transcender in all of history tremble, that could be painted on a canvas and hung in a king's castle, that could be sung by minstrels for a thousand years.
And the fruit borne of this "miracle" could not even feed one-tenth of the population of the Holy Spirit Plain.
To hell with this grand undertaking.
Beiyila opened her eyes.
"I am a druid," she said, looking at Norris, suddenly blurting it out as if for no reason at all.
Norris did not understand for a moment. "Eh?"
"Nothing. I simply happened to recall my own identity," Beiyila said, a faint smile appearing on her face—a smile no different from a human's. "Perhaps it is time to do what the first-generation pioneers ought to do."
Yes, a pioneer. She had almost forgotten that she was still a pioneer.