Chapter 869: Chapter 867 Ignition (41) Chapter 869: Chapter 867 Ignition (41) “Does this guy really not know when he’s beaten?”

After his failed mission, Ballard was once again stunned by the way Fu Qian’s mind worked.

“You don’t have much else to do anyway, sitting here waiting for the target to walk into the trap a second time is obviously a low probability, but it’s still better than running around aimlessly, right?”

But Fu Qian’s next question left him momentarily speechless.

Although he wanted to argue, he had to admit that the guy was not wrong.

Given the current circumstances, continuing this passive behavior was indeed foolish, but it truly was the only option.

Take the initiative, search the entire city?

If that method were effective, would this guy still be boasting here?

After a mental struggle, Ballard signaled the other Demigods to leave and slowly took his seat.

“So, Mr. Grim, what do you think is the purpose of maintaining order in a prison like this?”

Originally stone-faced and silent, Ballard now furrowed his brow at Fu Qian’s question.

This despicable defector didn’t continue their lunch conversation, but instead posed a question with utmost seriousness.

The meaning of order…

Both Fu Qian’s attitude and the content of his question were unexpectedly out of character for Ballard.

And such a philosophical question was obviously not easy to answer.

Caught under the peculiar gazes of Akasha and Crystal, Ballard paused to think and remained silent.

Very well.

Fu Qian was quite satisfied with the situation and didn’t rush Ballard.

This question wasn’t just directed at Ballard or even Yuan Fang behind him.

If previous speculations were true, everyone and everything present were manifestations of concepts from someone’s will.

That significant person from the same hometown was probably an entity similar to the World Will from Unseen Hillock.

And he needed to resolve some mental pollution.

Using the process of elimination, the situation was quite grim.

First off, violent methods were likely futile.

From the previous two attempts to strike at the Saint, any form of attack only intensified the flames representing the pollution, hastening mission failure.

So even if he had just now killed all the Demigods in the room with Xiumeng, the result would have been the same.

At the same time, he was even trapped by fate, finding himself in a future where the mission was doomed to fail.

According to Yuan Fang, that outcome was bound to occur, regardless of his own will.

At first glance, it seemed hopeless.

But were things truly desperate?

Don’t forget that the mission hadn’t failed yet.

One needs to think broadly here; he was a professional after all.

Not bound by his will–what about the will of the subject himself?

A professional psychologist never fights the pollution for the patient; doing so would only replace it with a stronger kind of pollution, a futile remedy.

The correct way was to help the patient tap into his own inner strength.

The psychological metaphor indeed sparked a bit of inspiration in Fu Qian.

In fact, since the beginning, Fu Qian had treated every word and action of his as communication with the fellow townsman.

After all, as a psychologist, talk therapy was a fundamental method of healing.

And among all these people, Ballard was undoubtedly a symbol with distinctive features, which was why he had approached him.

“You mean to tell me that everything I do is absurd and laughable?”

By then, Ballard, deeply contemplative, looked at Akasha before slowly responding.

This additional gesture didn’t surprise Fu Qian.

Akasha had mocked Ballard in a similar manner before; Fu Qian was essentially plagiarizing her.

The incident involving Catherine was taking place again, and the likelihood of similar dialogue reoccurring was not small.

“Not only that, it’s completely meaningless.”

In response to Ballard’s retort, Fu Qian nodded slightly, his remarks quite blunt.

“All your effort, consideration, and perseverance were predestined in the eyes of the Prophet, like an old videotape, and you are merely a vivid character in it.”

Determinism, a concept that profoundly shocks one’s worldview, especially when endorsed by the existence of a Prophet, was enormously impactful.

“So, this is how an outsider perceives our folly?”

Fu Qian went full throttle as Ballard, cooling down, snorted.

“And because of this, nothing you do burdens you psychologically?”

“Because the seemingly bustling crowd is fundamentally not even worthy of being called life, right?”

“It’s no wonder, I understand you all too well, but do you want to know how I see it?”

Of course, that was exactly what I just asked you.

Understanding that Ballard might be agitated, Fu Qian nonetheless kept to himself and didn’t interrupt.

“Actually, it’s simple. Whether it’s a prison or an old story, no matter how ridiculous or meaningless it seems, I still choose my current role,” Ballard pointed around.

“I’m happy to see a restaurant exist in a chaotic city and would do anything possible to ensure that–even if this effort is part of a predestined script, I would not enjoy it any less.”

“So, you’re saying that even if the so-called superhero is essentially just a puppet on strings, you’re still content to play the role?”

“Yes.”

Ballard nodded, emphasizing his point.

“In the rotten future seen by the Prophet, I think I’ll continue as I am now.”

“Perhaps foolish, but having these biases and persistence is the meaning of my existence in this story.”

“Good, I think I completely understand you now.”

Fu Qian sighed, his gaze drifting to the distant horizon.

From the start of this conversation, whether his patient heard or not was unknown, but there was clearly no reaction.

He wasn’t too disappointed; this was just the beginning, and there were many ways to communicate.

Talking with Ballard at a philosophical Salon was one aspect, moving on to body language was next.

“One more question, what if this leads to your predetermined death? A complete death, with no possibility of rebirth, even erased from everyone’s awareness.”

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“…Then I would be honored for my role in helping to maintain some sort of order in such a meaningless affair.”

After a slight hesitation, Ballard still spoke resolutely, feeling a pain under his ribs.

Looking down, he saw his sturdy Mirror Armor had been pierced directly by a hand.

“It’s an honor to put the final period on your story.”

And the assailant responsible for the attack was very earnestly saying farewell.