Herta's gaze swept across the six remaining trash cans. Within her eyes of special construction, countless intricate formulas flickered like streams of data.
After meticulously calculating every minute difference in the cans' appearances with the most precise scientific reasoning, she arrived at her conclusion—
Calculations were meaningless.
Whatever lay within could only be known by opening them.
After making peace with the idea of unveiling them all, she turned to the first can on her left and opened it.
This time, a surge of blue light burst forth.
The corners of Herta's lips curved upward slightly.
Blue-grade Curios often held unusual properties. They might not possess great combat utility, but their unique functions always carried considerable research value.
What truly delighted her, however, was what the color represented—she was getting closer and closer to the higher-grade Curios.
Indeed, science did work.
The puppet's synthetic senses failed to transmit any danger to the distant main body, as Herta allowed the blue radiance to swallow her field of vision.
A flower-shaped hairpin fell into her hand.
"Xianzhou-style ornament?" she murmured.
Though she had never worn one, Herta recognized the design. She only needed to glance sideways—Fu Xuan herself had plenty adorning her hair.
"No," Sylvester corrected, shaking his head. "This is no mere decoration. It's a mystic artifact imbued with special power."
He spoke slowly, almost as if lecturing:
"It comes from a world primarily inhabited by humans, though angels and demons occasionally walk among them. It once bore the power of a mighty female cleric. After being adapted for universal compatibility, it can now resonate with the energy of the Paths themselves. As for its ability…"
He paused dramatically before continuing,
"Once touched, you'll gain an ability called 'Iron Body of the Saint'. The hairpin will transform into a divine catalyst that allows you to summon a colossal war hammer. In battle, it amplifies the damage of your Path-based abilities by twenty percent."
Herta's eyes brightened. "And what sustains its energy source? Don't tell me it stores massive quantities of Path energy within?"
Sylvester straightened proudly and chuckled. "No, none at all. It can be summoned at will—no energy cost, no upkeep. Whenever you wish to use it, it simply works."
"What?!"
For the first time, Herta's cold, doll-like expression broke. Shock and incredulity marred her usually perfect face.
This defied all logic—it was an affront to the laws of physics themselves!
"Then does it consume some sort of matter instead?" she pressed stubbornly. "If there's no input, where does the excess energy come from?"
Still smiling, Sylvester replied, "None whatsoever. It doesn't require fuel or offering. It even has a secondary effect—it's especially effective against evil entities."
"If you channel your skills through it, you'll deal double damage to creatures born of calamity—like swarm beasts or any inherently impure entities."
Fu Xuan nodded thoughtfully. "Though its effects are conditional, for a blue-grade Curio, that's remarkable."
Then she lowered her head, falling into deep thought.
Would this include the Abominations of Abundance?
If so—if Herta could uncover its secrets and replicate it—the Cloud Knights' combat potential would skyrocket.
Of course, even as much as Fu Xuan despised the followers of Abundance, she couldn't quite equate them with cosmic plagues. Still, the possibility was tempting.
After all, the Shackling Prison held no shortage of… test subjects.
And with the Xianzhou Yaoqing about to escort the Borisin Warhead Hoolay away, perhaps a good beating before departure could "assist" in ensuring transport safety.
The more she thought about it, the more she felt this discovery could serve the grand destiny of the Xianzhou.
But Herta, by contrast, looked far from pleased.
"So… the Curio's effect changes depending on the morality of its target? Its definition of 'evil' determines its power? What kind of principle is that supposed to be?!"
Indeed, it was powerful—but Herta had never once believed that "morality" could have any tangible influence on science.
At most, it could affect the user, not the outcome.
And yet, this Curio might as well have the words 'Punish Evil, Uphold Virtue' engraved across its hammerhead.
But how could a hammer possibly judge morality?
From Herta's perspective, good and evil were simply constructs—artificial frameworks born from intelligent species' survival instincts. The universe itself didn't care. Stars would still turn, planets would still orbit.
And yet… this object challenged her worldview.
She forced herself to calm down, silently rationalizing.
If this object existed, then it must be possible. Which meant—this was exactly the kind of anomaly she lived to study!
Perhaps not quite as grand as the Power of Concepts, but it might still reveal a hidden layer of universal truth.
Her circuits hummed with excitement; even the puppet's internal power core began to overclock slightly.
In an uncharacteristically eager tone, she pressed, "Shopkeeper Sylvester—you're saying this object's power scales according to morality? And that this framework is recognized by the universe itself?"
Sylvester rubbed his chin, eyeing her curiously.
Most customers only cared about what Curios did, not how they worked. But Herta, being a true genius, was clearly fascinated by the underlying principle.
If his guess was right, then Herta was about to—
Ha! An amusing and terrifying thought indeed.
He smiled. "You could call it morality—but on the Luofu, we'd call it Righteousness. A grand narrative principle."
"That's enough."
Herta's voice dropped to a near whisper, every syllable clipped and deliberate.
That single answer…
If Righteousness as a power source was truly sanctioned by the cosmos itself—
Then the universe was not a silent, lifeless mechanism, but an aware, sentient entity.
Yes! Morality was a construct of life. For it to have weight in the laws of reality meant that the universe itself possessed will.
Her thoughts blazed—so fiercely that her puppet's energy core nearly overheated.
It was a breakthrough hypothesis—one even Nous had never attempted to prove.
If she could confirm it, the discovery would send shockwaves through not just the Genius Society, but the entire cosmos.
Of course, the implications were terrifying.
It would mean that all beings were constantly watched, influenced—even manipulated—by a higher, unseen force.
Just like the "Heavenly Dao" spoken of in the Luofu's old myths—playing with the prosperity and ruin of civilizations like pieces on a board.
If proven true, it would trigger chaos on an unprecedented scale. Heretical cults would seize upon this as divine revelation, amassing faith and power far beyond that of the Aeons. From that, catastrophic ambition would inevitably rise.
Yet for Herta, such a prospect brought only thrill, never fear.
She didn't crave results—only the process. Only the mystery.
And this mystery was irresistible.
Her metallic steps clicked against the floor as she approached the shelves again, her voice almost trembling with anticipation.
If a blue Curio could bring such monumental discovery—
Then what about the purple ones? Or even… gold?
For the first time, she genuinely considered it.
Perhaps it was time for her true body to come to the Luofu in person.