In truth, Sylvia's confusion stemmed from thinking things over a bit too hard.
The recent crackdown targeting the Six Commissions of the Xianzhou was the kind of mess where pulling up one weed drags half the garden with it.
Was the Luofu really in such dire straits? Not in particular.
Thanks to their unnaturally long lifespans, many of the older generation were veterans who'd stepped back after the war—but they were still holding their posts. As long as they remained, the Luofu wouldn't face any major collapse.
But the small problems? Oh, there were plenty.
Take the prejudice Sylvia herself had faced—the bullying of the Heaven-Afflicted, the outsiders' mistreatment. That was just one example among many.
And it couldn't even be chalked up to "human nature being inherently evil," because woven into these incidents were the actions of countless adults.
Young Dan Shu. That blind little girl. Even Huohuo.
Just from what Sylvia knew firsthand, none of it was mere childhood cruelty. Adults played their part—sometimes a big one.
Much of it tied back to unresolved issues left over from wartime.
It wasn't just outdated rules or institutions; even the veterans' mindsets and perceptions had drifted out of sync with this present age of peace and recovery.
The whole thing was terribly complicated.
Even Jing Yuan found it a headache—hardly surprising, since he himself was one of those wartime relics.
Most of his comrades from that era were long gone. He stood alone now, propping up the Luofu.
And even if they did overhaul certain systems, who could say whether those changes would hold up in another war?
The Luofu might be in recovery, but that didn't mean they'd stopped preparing. War could reignite at any moment.
So really, it wasn't so much that they were asking Sylvia for answers.
More like they wanted to hear more perspectives from shortlifers—people whose lives moved faster, whose views might offer something fresh.
The Divine Foresight wasn't truly omniscient. He was simply clever enough—and humble enough—to listen, to watch, and to accept ideas without placing himself on a pedestal.
Sylvia was merely the first voice they'd reached out to.
The Luofu wouldn't close its doors to this kind of dialogue and learning going forward.
But—
Sylvia wasn't even from the Xianzhou, and Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan had phrased their questions so delicately.
How could she possibly grasp the full depth of it all at once? Truth be told, she'd never given much thought to the Luofu's societal issues.
She'd simply assumed they were asking about her relationship with Dan Shu.
So though puzzled, she chose her words carefully before replying, "I don't have any grand thoughts on it. By Xianzhou law, harming your own people isn't even up for debate anymore, is it?"
"I—ahem, of course I know that," Fu Xuan said, coughing lightly to mask her slip.
Being closer to Sylvia than Jing Yuan was, she could afford to be more direct.
"But you keep pushing for Dan Shu to take charge of the Realm-Keeping Commission's affairs concerning the Heaven-Afflicted. Why?"
She was genuinely curious. If Sylvia truly wanted nothing to do with Xianzhou internal matters as an outsider, she wouldn't have offered such specific advice in the first place.
"Oh… that?" Sylvia tilted her head. "I just figured—Dan Shu's the Chief Alchemist. Her very position would naturally make the Heaven-Afflicted trust her more."
Jing Yuan and Fu Xuan had both considered that reasoning already.
Obviously, they suspected there was more to it—and sure enough, Sylvia wasn't done.
"Besides," she continued, "Dan Shu is a criminal who must answer for her crimes. But the child she once was also suffered injustice. Her guilt doesn't absolve the others of theirs. Still, it's been hundreds of years—the Xianzhou likely won't dig that far back."
"That's why I suggested she join the Realm-Keeping Commission. It's a new department flying Jing Yuan's banner. It'd give her a proper, legal way to seek justice for her younger self. Two birds with one stone, really."
Sylvia wasn't trying to plead for Dan Shu.
She didn't know the Vidyadhara well, but her own moral compass told her plainly: what the Disciples of Sanctus Medicus had done was monstrous.
But that didn't make the bullies any less despicable.
Dan Shu wasn't a saint—but that didn't turn her tormentors into heroes.
Worse, those people got to live openly, without shame.
And once Dan Shu's crimes went public, they'd probably brag to their neighbors about how they "saw it coming," painting themselves as visionary 'heroes.'
Just because the Luofu was full of longlifers didn't mean they'd chase down injustices from centuries ago.
So Sylvia figured—why not let Dan Shu sit in judgment over them first, before her own trial? Civilized people respected order, after all.
If Dan Shu could reach that position, her retribution would be perfectly legitimate—and perfectly public.
Still, Sylvia wasn't from the Xianzhou. All she could do was talk. She couldn't very well enforce her own rules here.
The Luofu wasn't some lawless den of villains.
Whether Dan Shu would actually take the post, and whether Jing Yuan would allow it—that was the Xianzhou's business.
In fact, if Fu Xuan hadn't brought it up today, Sylvia wouldn't have said a word.
But her words did leave an impression.
Fu Xuan and Jing Yuan found themselves looking at her with newfound respect—not because they'd expected such depth, but because her reasoning flowed from such a simple, earnest sense of right and wrong.
It made them wonder if Sylvia might've been better suited as a Cloud Knight than as this enigmatic, perilous Pathstrider she'd become.
--+--
After lingering a while longer at the Seat of Divine Foresight, Sylvia took her leave.
Jing Yuan might've wanted to chat longer—and maybe sneak in a bit more loafing—but Fu Xuan's subtle nudge made it clear it was time to go.
Whether her words would sway the two de facto leaders of the Luofu wasn't something Sylvia worried about.
What was she, anyway? Some grand strategist?
She'd rather spend her energy figuring out how to tell Acheron she didn't need someone staring her down like a hawk every time she soaked in medicinal baths.
Honestly, Acheron's behavior was starting to feel a little… creepy.
Except that pure, clear gaze of hers kept whispering to Sylvia: I'm just worried about you. Nothing more.
Which meant the real creep was Sylvia herself—her mind swimming with all sorts of unclean thoughts.
Acheron's image in her mind kept shattering into pieces… only to be glued back together again.
One moment, Sylvia could seamlessly merge Acheron with Mei's presence in her memory.
The next, she struggled to see Acheron as anything like Raiden Mei's otherworldly counterpart.
And yet—
Being cared for so constantly, so thoroughly—even a little too thoroughly—was a feeling Sylvia hadn't known since her parents. No one else had ever shown her this kind of attention.
So even as she wrestled with mixed feelings, she couldn't quite bring herself to hate Acheron's behavior.
In fact… she might've even liked it a little.
After all, if she truly found it repulsive, Acheron wouldn't have been able to 'force' her into anything.
Realizing this, Sylvia finally couldn't help but question everything.
"Don't tell me… the real creep… is me?"
--+--
T/N: I have a Patreon! While it may seem empty as of now, webnovel will get 3 Chapters Every Day, and advanced chapters will be uploaded on Patreon.
It may not seem worth it now, but maybe in the future. Who knows!
[email protected]/AspenTL
If you guys wanna check it out.