[Twenty-first day]

With a little "bribe", Solomon extended the daylight in the forsaken land, and the silver serpent of lightning tirelessly streaked across the lead-gray canopy, illuminating the land again and again with a fleeting light.

You walk slowly, feeling the prosperity of the past and discussing the rise and fall of the future.

After passing through another city-state in ruins, I heard Solomon ask you, if you were to compare his nation to one thing, what would you choose?

You choose a tree, and Solomon asks you why.

"Because the tree is a creature that seems to be stationary, but in fact it is constantly changing, in order to pick up the sun, it has to spread its branches and leaves, and go to higher places; In order to combat the bitter cold, it has to remove its branches and leaves to conserve water; There will be constant winds to break its branches, thunder to chop its crowns, and insects to gnaw at its skin, and it will need to draw nutrients to make up for the damage."

"The tree cannot run without feet, it cannot be stopped without hands, and its vitality can be described as the result of the constant struggle against natural disasters and insect infestations, but this endless struggle has also brought it amazing rewards: the birds and animals that can run and jump turn into loess one after another, but it can live for decades, hundreds, even thousands of years."

"For trees, decay and withering go hand in hand, but growth opens up endless possibilities."

You go on to say, "Your Majesty, I have never liked to use the word 'prosperous' to describe your country, because 'prosperous' means that it has reached the extreme, but why can't it become better and more luxuriant?"

By the light of thunder, I caught a glimmer of Solomon's emotion. For a lawyer who is good at playing with words, it is not right to be moved by a sentence or two, but for a monarch, your words have a high-spirited and encouraging power.

According to my observations, "climbing up" is one of the great dynamics of people's lives, whether it is power or mystery, it is difficult for Solomon to go any further, and I think he may have lived a bit boring.

[Day 22]

After you and Solomon left, I walked around the God's forsaken land, looking at a collapsed church, and I suddenly remembered something from a long time ago.

On that day, when his father was on the throne, Medici reported to him that a city-state had suffered a plague of locusts and asked for a reduction in the scale of the sacrifice so that they would make up for it next year.

The father indifferently rejected the offer, saying that it was their duty to offer sufficient sacrifices, and that they should have prepared for the unexpected.

The Medici used to respond forcefully to any decision of his father, but that day he hesitated, and said, Lord, it is not uncommon for you to have this before, but you will always answer their prayers.

Father said that the right amount of reverence strengthens the anchor point.

Seeing that Medici was still hesitating, his father said, "I have my own considerations, and you must not speculate on God's intentions."

Medici hurriedly said that it was me who trespassed, and asked the Lord for forgiveness.

I also heard Medici discussing privately with Ulorius, and the divinity of the Lord seemed to be stronger. Urorius also nodded, saying that in the past, there were pilgrims who came on foot from remote places, and although they could not look directly at the true face of the Lord, the Lord would also receive them with virtual personalities, but now they are all gone, and only the bishop will be sent to receive them.

I didn't think so, thinking to myself that my father was the supreme god, so what was wrong with being dominated by divinity?

It was only after entering the dream of the Hanged Man and piecing together so many fragments of memory that I realized how far the divinity had eroded Him.

He read psalms psalms in praise of freedom and tolerance as a teenager, experienced economic depression as an adult, was plagued by the sorrow of not receiving the last meal, thanked the priests and nuns heartily after receiving the church meal, and when his living conditions improved, he would donate to the church every week, and even a coin would be placed in the donation box with great solemnity—as if he foresaw that the coins would one day become a relief meal, bringing hope to someone he did not know in distress.

How could He spread this affliction to others?

The desolation of the mind is more subtle, more abstract, more imperceptible, and more creepy than the decay of the body. Father, is He aware of the changes in himself?

When the angels seated acquiesce to His changes, and the blessed believers are ignorant of His changes, will He feel isolated?

[Day 25]

I passed by a city-state with survivors, but their bodies were somewhat mutated, some had huge sarcomas on their faces, some had abnormal backs, and some of them could no longer control the mythical creatures.

In extreme desperation, they toppled the idol of their father, then cast the image of the legendary old god, and prayed and bowed down over and over again.

If Medici had been here, the crowd would have been reduced to char on the spot.

I could have killed them, but I remembered my father's conversation earlier, where he said that before the virtues of kindness, bravery, and tolerance can be planted in the human heart, there needs to be a stable and prosperous environment, which is called "material determination of consciousness."

I now probably understand that in a situation where the body is suffering from disease, there is no normal food, and there is a possibility of dying at any time, it is the norm to lose the motivation for faith - by the way, they have no wheat, no rice, no red meat, no white meat or anything like that, and they can only live by eating monsters, although that is tantamount to taking poison.

I appeared before them, and they asked me in a terrified way of being which great being I was.

I say that I am the youngest son of the all-knowing and all-powerful Creator, the angel of time, the god of deceit and mischief, and as I say this, my eyes fall on the broken idol of my father, whose face is mottled but still majestic.

Shock, fear, despair, these strong emotions instantly filled the crowd, and apparently they also realized that I knew what they had done.

The man who could no longer contain the mythical creature dragged four black appendages, and threw himself at my feet, saying that it was his own idea to destroy my father's idol, and that it was none other than anyone else, that he had forced his people to change their faith, hoping to appease my anger with blood and soul and wash away the blasphemous sins.

Although such an act does deserve the word "blasphemy", I am not angry, I think of the mirage in the desert, you said in a very calm tone, for people who have never been able to deal with God in their lives, God is nothing but a collection of wishes, the sustenance of obsessions.

On the other hand, if a god fails to grant people's wishes, people can turn to another god at any time.

You also talk about the custom of "worshipping the gods every time" in your time, in a joking tone, and about the decades when many temples dedicated to gods were destroyed by crazy people - your expression is regretful but not regretful, like seeing a piece of cake turn sour and unable to eat, and seeing a white dress stained with ink that is difficult to wash off.

Compared to you, everyone who is prostrate on the ground here can be called religious.

I stole the toxins that caused them to accumulate in some people's bodies and left.

[Day 28]

I came to Silver City, and although I still believe in my father, I didn't want to be watched so much, so I didn't show up.

The inhabitants here are different from people in other places in that they are less mutated, because there is a crop called "black-faced grass", which has a single nutritional value, but it does not have the toxins that make people die slowly.

I stole one and planted it around the city-state, but within a few hours, the black-faced grass withered. It's a bit strange, out of caution, I also stole a little bit of the soil of Silver City back, and used "fraud" to make the soil of the two places have a certain degree of similarity, is it because of the climate?

No, the Godforsaken Land is all in this kind of barren climate, and there should be nothing special. Or do you need fertilizer?

Tsk, why should I, a thief, think about the cultivator?