Since Elo's awakening, the weight of state affairs had once confined him—meetings, audiences, the signing of decrees…

  Each task silently consumed his time and energy.

  However, this state could not last long, for the entire Empire understood a simple fact—

  The Emperor must embark on his journey.

  Thus, in the past half-month, every department and every official within the Empire had consciously worked to reduce the Emperor’s workload.

  Matters that originally required the Emperor’s decision were reclassified and handled by officials at various levels according to their authority.

  The Cabinet ministers held discussions in advance and reached a consensus, presenting only the conclusions to the Emperor when necessary, rather than making the Emperor spend time participating in discussions.

  Administrative processes within departments were optimized, and the layers of paperwork were reduced. Matters that could be directly approved were no longer routed through the Emperor’s hands.

  Even routine reports from the Imperial Assembly were condensed into concise summaries, ensuring that the Emperor only had to focus on the most essential information, rather than becoming bogged down by trivial details.

  Gradually, he no longer needed to attend those lengthy and tedious meetings, nor did he have to personally handle the trivial state affairs.

  The Emperor's work was streamlined to the core, and only the truly significant matters that determined the Empire’s direction required his personal judgment.

  And when documents were placed before him, he would often just flip through them casually, leaving a faint remark:

  "Approved. Proceed as per protocol."

  To this, the people had no doubts, for they understood—

  The Empire should not become an obstacle in the Emperor’s journey but should serve as the solid foundation that supports his path forward.

  The Empire must clear every obstacle for the Emperor and resolve every challenge, allowing him to focus without worry on more important missions.

  This was not only out of reverence and loyalty to the Emperor, but also one of the many missions assigned to the Empire by the system.

  Elo knew well that even if he left the Empire and embarked on his journey, the Empire would continue to run smoothly and efficiently, not halting for even a moment in his absence.

  The Empire’s subjects were by no means ignorant or unwise. On the contrary, they were the most outstanding elites handpicked by Alaya from 8.5 billion people, the top talents from all walks of life, the best of the best standing at the pinnacle of the world.

  Their professional capabilities were unquestionable. The Empire did not need Elo to personally guide its operations; he didn’t even need to interfere—

  For these individuals knew better than anyone how to make every cog in the Empire’s machinery turn, how to keep this colossal entity moving forward steadily.

  In the past half-month, Elo had encountered many people—

  Politicians, scientists, officers, soldiers, engineers, artists, scholars, workers, farmers...

  They came from all around the world, the most outstanding elites among 8.5 billion people, the undisputed pinnacles in their respective fields.

  They were incredibly confident, their words precise and sharp, their thinking deep and insightful.

  Elo respected these individuals because, through their own wisdom and effort, they had climbed to the peak of human civilization.

  But at the same time, deep within his heart, Elo always felt a sense of shame and inferiority.

  He knew clearly that he had not ascended to the throne through talent or struggle. This supreme power and position was a privilege granted by the system, not something he had fought for himself.

  When scholars delved into complex theories, he often fell silent for a long while, afraid that his questions would seem shallow or laughable.

  Listening to officers confidently present tactical strategies, he repeatedly questioned his own judgments in his mind, fearing they were too simplistic, lacking true practical value.

  He was grateful for the convenience brought by the system, yet he felt ashamed because it all came too easily.

  Elo could never convince himself that his position was deserved.

  He didn’t feel he was inherently worthy of the throne, nor did he want to cover up the emptiness inside with false confidence.

  However, it was precisely because of this that he held deep respect for these truly exceptional people—

  They were the true pillars that pushed the Empire forward, the ones worthy of everyone’s respect.

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  Elo could not choose to become Emperor, but he could choose what kind of Emperor he would be.

  Every time he spoke with these elites, he would quietly remind himself:

  "I may not deserve this, but since I sit in this position, I must give my all."

  So, he would still ask questions, still humbly seek advice, even if those questions might expose his ignorance.

  He was not afraid of being seen through, nor was he ashamed of his lack of knowledge, because he understood—

  True respect is not pretending to know everything, but approaching those truly worthy of admiration with a learning attitude.

  Although he tried hard to listen, think, and ask questions, attempting to compensate for his own shortcomings through learning, was it really that simple?

  Of course not.

  Elo was Elo, and the system was the system. Their fates were tightly intertwined, yet they had never truly become one.

  The system carried the wisdom of the gods, while Elo had lost the "authority of wisdom."

  This "authority of wisdom" encompassed a crucial ability—the ability to learn.

  This meant that, for Elo, his cognitive and thinking abilities were limited.

  No matter how hard he tried, his wisdom had already been set by the system with an insurmountable upper limit.

  It was like an invisible barrier, firmly locking him within the limits of his growth.

  He could learn, but he could never truly surpass that boundary;

  He could understand, but he could never break through the cognitive domain defined by the system.

  This was not laziness, nor was it a matter of talent, but a deliberate setting by the system—

  It would not make Elo smarter; it would only keep him within a controllable range.

  This was the true reason for his poor exam results from childhood to adulthood.

  No matter how hard he tried, his scores in mathematics, physics, and chemistry had never passed.

  He had stayed up late studying, attended tutoring classes, tried various learning methods, and even relied on memory techniques to forcibly memorize formulas and theories.

  Yet, all his efforts ultimately turned to nothing.

  Knowledge seemed like fleeting smoke, unable to truly settle in his mind.

  He once doubted if it was his talent problem, even sinking into deep self-denial.

  In the journey ahead, even with the aid of transcendent technology to enhance his learning and cognitive abilities, even making his neurons work at optimal efficiency, it would be in vain.

  For the system would calmly and cruelly strip away the parts beyond the limit, ensuring that Elo only possessed "limited wisdom."

  The only way to break through seemed to be one—

  Merge with the system and break through the boundary that was deliberately set.

  But this was not only impossible, it also went against Elo’s own will.

  He was not unwilling to seek power, wisdom, and knowledge; he understood their value better than anyone.

  However, he also knew that all power came with a price.

  So, what kind of price would he have to pay to bear all of this?

  Elo had thought about this question and tried to find an answer.

  He came up with some intuitive guesses, though without solid evidence, but he was willing to believe these intuitions.

  At the same time, during his contemplation, he gradually realized that perhaps this wasn’t the most important question.

  The more important question was: What did he truly want?

  Great power, extraordinary wisdom, infinite knowledge?

  —No.

  These things were undoubtedly alluring, representing absolute power, control, and possibility.

  But Elo gradually realized that they were not aligned with his true pursuit, and might even conflict with it.

  When he realized this, he accepted the current situation calmly and deeply understood—

  The present situation might actually be the best solution, the one that most closely aligned with his true needs.

  Of course, Elo's abilities and wisdom might be limited, but that doesn't mean he's weak—the system has granted him immense power.

  He often felt that relying on the system was cheating, and as a result, a slight sense of shame inevitably arose in his heart.

  But he also understands deeply that these powers don't come entirely from external forces; they are a part of him.

  The system isn't some external tool imposed on him, but an extension of his existence, inseparable like blood and breath.

  At the same time, although the system has set a limit on his wisdom, preventing him from breaking through the established boundaries of understanding,

  he is still able to think, judge, and make his own choices within this confined domain.

  Elo understands:

  —True growth lies not in gaining stronger abilities, but in how to understand and apply them.

  However, more than his own growth, Elo was concerned about— the system itself.

  Did the system also have limits? Would the system stagnate?

  To this question, the Empire’s elites gave the answer: no.

  Although it is unclear why the god divided itself into two, one thing is certain—this decision must align with the god's interests.

  In other words, "splitting" is not a weakening, but an evolution.

  Otherwise, this decision itself would be wrong and shouldn’t exist in reality.

  However, it has been proven that the system has been running steadily until today.

  Based on this reality, the Empire’s elites believed—

  The system’s purpose was far beyond assisting the Emperor; it also carried the mission of learning, progressing, developing, and even evolving.

  Perhaps it was precisely because the god realized they were limited by some human or unknown factors that they chose to split themselves.

  The god entrusted the responsibility of growth and evolution to the system, while the responsibility of perceiving the world was given to the Emperor.

  Admittedly, this was just the guess of the Empire’s elites, but no matter the truth, one thing was certain—

  The god would not actively weaken their own power, for that would contradict the essence of their existence.

  Every decision made by the god, even if it seemed like self-limitation, inevitably carried an intention behind it to promote its own evolution.

  Just as fire cannot refuse to burn, the ocean cannot resist the tides, and the sun cannot refuse to stop shining—

  Just as humans cannot suppress their breathing, lions cannot abandon hunting, the god cannot deny its own existence.

  Elo's intuition told him—the system was evolving at an unimaginable speed.

  This form of growth transcended conventional understanding, even making leaps at an exponential rate, measured in seconds.

  Imagine a faint spark falling onto dry grass, initially just a barely perceptible red light, but in an instant, it ignites into a blazing fire, sweeping across the land, unstoppable.

  It’s like a neutron released in a nuclear fission reaction, initially just a small collision, but in a series of chain reactions, releasing enough destructive energy to obliterate a city.

  But perhaps the most fitting analogy is the moment of the Big Bang—at first, it was just a singularity, infinitely dense, with an almost negligible volume.

  However, in an extremely short time, its expansion far exceeded the speed of light, instantly creating countless galaxies, stars, and planets, ultimately forming the vast, boundless universe.

  The system’s evolution was just like this—

  Every second of growth far surpassed the previous second by multiples, tens of multiples, or even hundreds of multiples.

  Perhaps, this was just Elo’s illusion, but he was willing to believe this intuition.

  He believed that the decision to "split into two" was not made for self-limitation, but to release a broader potential.

  It was to create—a future truly full of infinite possibilities.