Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

The old gentleman gestured for Bobby to look out the window at a brightly lit café from which faint, cheerful music could be heard.

"People can now enjoy their evenings in peace—visiting friends, listening to music, chatting... This tranquility and vitality were unimaginable in the Holy City after the disaster ten years ago. All these changes began with the Holy Throne’s insistence on new knowledge and new Paths. Many call it a ’miracle,’ but I prefer to believe it is the inevitable fruit born from the combination of wisdom, courage, and a deep love for the people."

The carriage door opened, and a clear, girlish voice drifted in, accompanied by the sound of light footsteps.

"That’s right. It is the inevitable fruit born from the combination of wisdom, courage, and a deep love for the people."

A little girl of about eight or nine, with waist-length black hair and equally dark eyes, climbed into the carriage.

She wore an exceptionally exquisite and lovely dress.

A large bow made of dark brown ribbon was tied on the fluffy, light cream-colored skirt. The collar and cuffs were adorned with delicate lace, and she wore white stockings with small, polished-to-a-sheen leather shoes.

She clutched several thick books and had a calm demeanor that belied her age.

Her gaze swept across the carriage, finally landing on the old gentleman as she continued.

"But many of the faithful simply attribute all this to Oriane’s intangible ’grace,’ while ignoring the specific human effort, wisdom, and sacrifice involved. That is wrong."

The spacious carriage, large enough for twelve people, fell instantly silent.

Be it a woman holding an infant, two young workers in simple clothes, or a middle-aged man who looked like a merchant.

They all stopped what they were doing, their gazes fixed in astonishment on the little girl who had spoken such shocking words.

The smile on the old gentleman’s face froze. He clearly hadn’t expected his words to be extrapolated upon and refuted by a child.

He frowned, his tone taking on a hint of seriousness.

"Child, you shouldn’t put it that way. While wisdom and courage are indeed human virtues, don’t the inspiration to seek wisdom, the strength to practice courage, and even the heart to love one’s people all stem from Oriane’s guidance and blessing? The Holy Throne also frequently teaches us that all achievements should ultimately be attributed to humility and gratitude toward the Holy Light."

"Hmph, well said!" A middle-aged man sitting in the back of the carriage, who had been silent until now, immediately chimed in. His clothes were slightly worn but clean and starched, and an obviously old-fashioned Holy Emblem hung on his chest. His face flushed red as he pointed at the little girl. "Where did this little brat come from, daring to question our faith! Without Oriane’s grace, where would human wisdom come from? What you’re saying is blasphemy!"

The little girl met the man’s gaze without a trace of fear, her dark eyes clear and sharp.

"I’m not denying the existence of faith. I’m just saying that to lightly attribute concrete results—achieved through the sweat of countless artisans, the exhaustive efforts of scholars, and even the injuries or sacrifices of some—entirely to ’God’s gift’ is disrespectful to those who actually did the work."

"Electricity doesn’t appear out of thin air; someone has to watch over the boilers day and night in the power plants. The lights don’t turn on by themselves; someone had to design the circuits, blow the glass, and install the wires. The Pope’s Throne promoted these things precisely because he saw the power and value of ’man,’ not because he was sitting around waiting for a ’gift from God.’"

"You... You’re twisting my words!" The believer stood up, furious. "By your logic, should we stop praying and giving thanks altogether?"

"You can be grateful," the little girl said calmly. "But you should be even more grateful to and remember the specific people. Thank the miners who dig the coal, thank the engineers who design the blueprints, thank the female workers who operate the machines in the factories, thank the guards who escort the supplies. Their names may never be known, but every time a lamp is lit in this city, their strength is a part of it. To just call it ’God’s grace’ is to erase their contributions."

"I... I think she has a point!" Bobby suddenly said in a small voice. She didn’t fully understand everything, but the phrase "remember the specific people" had moved her.

She thought of the men and women at her family’s estate back home who made fine wine. When the wine was good, everyone would praise the grapes and the sun, but her mother always said the ones who most deserved thanks were the people who cared for the vines.

The believer immediately turned his fire on Bobby. "What does a country girl like you know! Just spouting nonsense! How did your parents raise you?"

Seeing things were getting out of hand, Claude quickly pulled Bobby closer to him, a placating smile on his face.

"My friend, kids say the darndest things. Children see things simply. The old gentleman is right: faith is faith, human effort is human effort. The two complement each other, and both are good things under the blessing of the Holy Light. Why argue?"

But Bobby muttered indignantly, "But I still think she’s right... People are the ones who light the lamps..."

"See?" The black-haired girl’s lips curved into a faintly sarcastic smile. Her gaze swept over Claude and the agitated believer. "Sir, you have a knack for mediating conflict, but it seems your courage doesn’t quite measure up to your daughter’s. As for this gentleman..."

She looked at the believer. "Are you so angry because my words have challenged a long-held belief you’ve never had to think about, making you feel insecure? If a faith is so fragile that it must be defended by forbidding questions and denying the labor of others, then perhaps it isn’t as solid as you imagine."

"Insolent!" The believer was thoroughly enraged, especially at being so sarcastically addressed by a little girl. He felt deeply offended. "Whose ill-mannered child are you?! Who are your parents? I’m going to teach you a lesson on their behalf about what respect means!"