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For twenty years since his soul had transmigrated, Bailuo thought this was an ordinary world, until one day, a black leather book appeared in his mind.

“Is there magic in this world?”

Facing Bailuo’s question, his uncle remained unwavering as he said, “No.”

“But there are miracles.”

“What are miracles?”

“A sword that can release flames, a pot that can pour out gold, a beautiful girl grown from a fruit.”

The uncle said, “Controlling the mist, bringing the storm, commanding the thunder.”

“Magic!”

Bailuo raised his hand and pointed, “This is definitely magic!”

“No.”

His uncle said, “These are truly miracles.”

Years later, when Bailuo looked upon the nation he had built with his own hands, that magnificent and majestic sight, he agreed with what his uncle had said all those years ago, “This is a miracle…”