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All things in the world, all kinds of life, are helpless. Helpless, helpless, full of ambition but insufficient strength. Helpless, helpless, more than enough emotion but not enough power. Helpless, helpless, I have more than enough thoughts but not enough strength. When the power is sufficient, there will indeed be more helplessness. When civilization has developed to its extreme, hell and underworld have been conquered, heaven and fairyland have established diplomatic relations with humans, time is like a progress bar that can be moved forward and backward at will, and space is like building blocks that can be played with and assembled. Will such a existence still have helplessness? Each of the first seven chapters has relatively few words, but it won't be so few after that.