Miss Witch Doesn't Want to be a Diva

"Yes, yes, yes, we will do it right away. Please, my lord, take a rest." Flan quickly stepped in to ease the situation, as out of the three leaders in the group, he was the only one capable of handling this; Loloria couldn't be exposed yet, and getting Sura to comfort people was out of the question.

Flan then hurriedly signaled the others to take out the dried meat from the cart, to boil it in a pot, adding some spices and pickled vegetables, which, served with cooked rice, turned out quite delicious.

After they sat around the campfire and finished their meal, the Wolf Blood Species felt somewhat satisfied, but then demanded wine. Unfortunately, Tilan and the others hadn't procured any this time, only having a small amount of fruit jam.

Initially, the Wolf Blood Species didn't believe them and searched through all the parked carts before begrudgingly giving up.

"Alright, jam is jam, we'll just have it as a dessert." Eating the sweet and sour fruit jam, they casually tossed and shattered the not entirely emptied jars, causing heartache to the caravan members over the waste.

"Calm down, Lord Loloria. Remember Tilan's instructions." Fearing Loloria would act prematurely and cause problems, Flan advised patience.

"Luckily, I moved Orenna to the side earlier; otherwise, the search just now would have been troublesome." Sura walked over, and the three of them quietly discussed behind a cart.

"Did Orenna eat anything?" Loloria remembered that silly Silkworm Moth Lady.

"She ate a bit and said she could enter a dormant state to reduce consumption." Sura repeated her response.

"The Silkworm Moth Species and Grey Feather Species both inherited some insect traits, including an innate talent for dormancy." Flan nodded affirmatively.

"Thanks to this talent, they survived the initial chaotic battles and later food shortages despite being not very strong."

"For the next couple of days, try to endure. Take action once we are far from the King Camp." With that, Flan seemed to remember something.

"Also, we might encounter another allied faction on our way."

"Who?" Sura was not clear about the Butterfly Species.

"It's the Levende of the team, the slave we rescued." Flan answered, this wasn't the time for lengthy explanations.

"Let's head back before those Wolf Blood Species get suspicious if we're gone too long."

...

The first day concluded in this manner, with some bumps but relatively smoothly overall.

The next day, Tilan, in the King Camp, was brought to the main tent to meet the Wolf Blood Queen. This time it wasn't a feast; the Wolf Blood Queen, showing great interest, asked Tilan many questions about the eastern prairie, like the insect disaster at the time, and who exactly she brought so much food for.

"Heshan Rescue Association, huh..." Hearing the name, the Wolf Blood Queen seemed to recall something.

"Absurd old humans," she commented.

"Those guys used to think their pure blood was the noblest, treating the Newborn Races as livestock and tools, yet ended up modifying their genes themselves. It's laughable."

"Now, I guess they can't even pass the verification of the Mechanical Autonomous Units, being rejected by those harvesting machines like us."

"You've got so much kindness with nowhere to give. I honestly don't know how you grew up," she sneered at Tilan's excessive benevolence.

"If I were ambitious, always plotting to expand my power, cunning, and selfish, would you still keep me around?" Tilan asked her.

"Of course not. For such troublemakers, I usually just eliminate them to save time and effort." She didn't have the patience for balance management, preferring to solve things with claws and violence.

"So, even if you find these ways wrong, they have indeed kept me alive." Tilan countered the Wolf Blood Queen's view in another way.

"Hahaha, you can really talk. But it's interesting; I even enjoy discussing these issues with you." The Wolf Blood Queen laughed heartily. In her tedious and dull life, having such a fearless young girl to debate with her was indeed amusing.

"However—" She quickly changed her expression after laughing.

"But this is just the weak's excuse and self-complacency."

"You survived, but anything I want you to do, you have to do it. See, this is the leisure of the strong."

To this, Tilan simply shook her head, "If, according to your theory, the strong are always right, then if one day I become stronger than you, does that mean what I said was right after all?"

"If you ever become stronger than me, then you'd be right. However, I doubt that day will come, because you're too concerned about too many things, too distracted. For a doctor, these are good traits, but they don't suit a warrior, nor someone fit to rule." The Wolf Blood Queen nonchalantly replied, leaning back on her soft fur-covered throne, sipping rare vintage wine leisurely.

"What you say makes sense, but I don't think it's the truth." Tilan replied, sitting nearby.

"If things only change because of my strength, it shows that this reasoning isn't universally applicable; it's merely an excuse or statement."

If being strong means being right, then how to define correctness? Awake and strong in the morning but wrong if tired and weak at night? How can such a fragile "truth" be real?

The idea that being powerful equates to being right is, in fact, a meaningless notion, like saying boiling water at 100 degrees is hotter than 10 degrees, or 3 is greater than 2, 2 is greater than 1—these are merely result appearances.