Countless complex stances, like a painting where colors are repeatedly overlaid and blended. Until the last stroke was laid, he had no idea what color he should be.
And he had no chance to be wrong. Not even once.
Zhan felt his head was about to explode.
He felt he had to do something and at the same time couldn't do anything. Many viewed him with malice and contempt, but what truly pained him were those who equally trusted him, trusted in the light, yet stood opposed due to their respective stances.
If it were Minister Cuique... what would she do?
If it were Minister Ultramarine, what would he do?
Zhan was neither clear nor understood, but he didn't want to stand still doing nothing—if he did nothing, he could easily be undercut, dismissed, or used as a puppet. By then, he wouldn't be able to protect what Ultramarine valued.
He had to act, and do it well... and at the same time, he couldn't afford to strive in the wrong direction.
