Patrick thought to himself. 'Truly, no matter where you go, the world of men is all the same.' The Venator Empire, the Holy Empire of Saint Louis, and even the Tower of Truth.
The backgrounds were quite impressive. The strongest nation on the continent, the spiritual pillar and headquarters for all believers, and the Tower of Truth, which held a monopoly on the production of magic tools that had become an essential element of civilization in this world. They were truly remarkable places.
And yet…
'Look at how stiff-necked these young whelps are. It’s as if they’ve hammered iron rods into their spines.' The glory and achievements established by the three great powers were not built by these brats.
Their ancestors built them, and these youths were merely brats in the position of having to inherit it all. They were just kids who should be training and striving every single day, and even that wouldn't be enough. But these brats often deluded themselves.
They mistook their background for their own skill, filled their lungs with hot air, and brazenly displayed an arrogance they mistook for confidence. 'In my past life, treating guys like that was my specialty.'
[How dare you interfere with the affairs of the Great Wudang Sect?]