The Lord Demon King is Unfathomable! Chapter 1203 - 358: Hector Chasing the Prince in the Snow (P

"They have turned the won of the Kingdom into prostitutes, so dressed in lamb's clothing selling themselves, others dressed impeccably pretending they're not selling themselves. No one wants to hear my poems except for you; those prostitutes just want to reach into my pockets and grab my gold coins! And the n of the Kingdom, they have been trained to beco spiritual dwarfs, sheep under the rod, turtles in the pond, either licking the boots of nobles or the magic wands of mages, or chasing gold coins imprinted with the Emperor's face. Not only are they pitifully self-abased, but they delusionally believe that life should naturally be like maggots — like my father, for example!"

"I admit, I don't have the ability to deal with any of them, but I do have so other skills. So, I've decided to show them what I can do!"

Marco's eyes sparkled with confidence as he continued his monologue without a break, "I saw the stone tablet, but I didn't answer those foolish questions. I picked up the pen, and at that mont, my soul was burning, my inspiration was bursting forth! I wrote a poem, a truly heartfelt battle song of rebellion against authority!"

He boasted exuberantly, completely unaware that the other "protagonist" of his story was sitting opposite him, smiling with interest at his speech.

"I bet those mages were furious," Luo Yan said with a smile.

"Of course! But what's that got to do with ? I never wanted to go to that rotten place anyway!" Marco said proudly, seemingly unaware that his family had switched his scroll.

But it didn't matter anymore.

If they hadn't switched the scroll, his poem probably wouldn't have had the chance to infuriate the distinguished mage to the point of blowing his top; at most, it would have been burned as trash by an apprentice.

"So what's next? After you've had your fun, will you go ho?" Luo Yan asked curiously.

"Go ho? Fun? Sir, I must reiterate, I am serious!" Marco said solemnly. "My soul belongs to the Holy City, and that temple of art truly belongs to . I will never go back; I have left that cage behind. Maybe you think I will eventually die outside, but if this is the fate Saint Sis has arranged for , then let it co! The Holy Light will eventually take my soul to where it belongs, whether heaven or hell!"

"As for my father — if he thinks that just earning enough money or having enough magic power can change the family's destiny, then let him drown in that ridiculous notion in the vault! I'll leave it at this: no passenger can safely disembark from a rocking ship, not even if he himself becos a Great Sage; he cannot escape his destiny!"

This man is highly aggressive, turning viciously on kin and kindred.

Although the poem is rather average.

Luo Yan suddenly regarded this "hungry wolf" with newfound respect.

"Mr. Marco, I view you in a new light... Your poetry is full of resistance and strength, a rare quality, even in a place like the Holy City. I have no doubt that you will beco a legend there... a poet."

These words greatly encouraged Marco, his back straightening involuntarily, unable to suppress the smile at the corners of his mouth.

"You've been to the Holy City?!"

"Of course, every art enthusiast has been there," Luo Yan said with a smile, then suddenly changed the subject, "By the way, regarding your poem, I think what's missing is rhythm, and the the is slightly off."

"Off?" Marco asked, puzzled.

Luo Yan didn't answer directly but instead guided him with a question: "Is it really the 'prison' of 'knowledge' that holds you back? Maybe try replacing 'knowledge' in your poetry with 'class'."

He looked at Marco's bewildered face, his voice carrying a certain soul-piercing magic.

"You were born into a wealthy family, living comfortably, yet you are despised by those declining hereditary nobles. You yearn for the freedom of art but are forced by your family to study in Academic State to earn a magic wand. Is it not this insurmountable, unavoidable cage that truly traps your soul?"

"We all know this has nothing to do with knowledge. In fact, it is precisely because of the class barriers that true knowledge cannot be freely disseminated," Luo Yan's gaze was profound, "And most importantly, you shouldn't position those who pursue knowledge as your adversaries. You should unite with those who desire change, standing together with the last remaining softness in their hearts."

These words were like a thunderclap, or a beam of holy light piercing through the darkness, striking the most tender part of Marco's heart.

"Sir!" Marco exclaid excitedly, grasping Mr. Colin's hand, his voice trembling with emotion. "You... your words have struck right to the heart of !"

Luo Yan smiled, discreetly withdrew his hand, and gently waved, signaling that it was nothing to worry about. Then he took out a letter he had long prepared from his coat.

"Since you're heading to the Holy City, please deliver a letter for ." He handed the letter to Marco, speaking softly, "Give it to a gentleman nad Sir Dantes. He will introduce you to the right places, sponsor your dreams, and help you beco a true poet."

"Thank you, sir! You are truly a good man!"

Marco solemnly stored the letter close to him.

Looking at the warm and wise "Mr. Colin" before him, his heart was filled with gratitude, yet he couldn't help but ask suspiciously.