"You finally understand," Yawen, who always maintained a stern face, couldn't help but soften slightly.
Yet he still did not reveal a welcoming expression.
He merely set down his tea, displaying a mocking look, "But the ridiculous part is, those commoners still haven't understood.
"They only know that this old man likes stories. Therefore, on this land, stories can even become the hardest currency—they can be exchanged for slaves, houses, land, titles. Because as long as one gains my approval, they have a chance to become the bishop of the church.
"So those wealthy people, they gather daily around those writers, playwrights, and troubadours. Just like dogs in a restaurant, staying by your side while you eat, watching your every move... hoping for a piece of meat to fall so they can joyously snatch it up."
At this point, Yawen couldn't help but snicker.
It certainly wasn't a smile of goodwill.
