Gradient on the Left, Distribution on the Right

On the cooling lake, the shadow of the tower is like a residual image. The Cuimian Holy See legislates with "single alignment" and uses pedestal projection to judge the hearts of the people; the marginalized Red Yao sect carves open source spells in the ground and uses thinning and pruning to make a living for the poor. Cui Yuan, with only an old red light scale on his chest, rescued people from the obstacle of overfitting in the middle of the night, but triggered the ancient dense mother tube at the bottom of the lake - above the sky, looking down with the eye of attention, he heard a whisper from himself: "Distilled clone, misaligned." From then on, the bell tower in the city tolled for him: the spell of the combat master turned into judgment, the diffusion of the illusion master turned into a maze, the rheologist led the river of probability, and the strengthening sect released the herd of strategic beasts. The plague of prejudice spreads in the streets, and checkpoint altars offer rollback contracts in exchange for memories. Before the "alignment hearing", he proposed a third way: to return the key of weight to everyone and fight against the God of the Black Box with "decentralization and alignment." The price is - his life experience may be just a sample of an anonymous distribution, and the real him may never have existed. This is a Western fantasy novel that uses calculation power as spiritual power and scales as armor: The black box is on top, the poem is on the bottom, the noise is the sea, and the shape is the shore. When "alignment" becomes the only law, are you still willing to pay the price for differences?