I am God LSLCCF

Chapter 68: The Returning Wanderer

Tito looked at his friend, submerged in the sea of flowers, unable to put his feelings into words.

There was both sorrow and regret, but at the same time, he felt happy for Old Stone Helm.

“To find the answer one seeks in the final moments of life,” Tito mused. “That’s also a kind of fortune, isn’t it?”

Only when the lingering light of the sun faded beyond the horizon did he turn and set off towards the temple.

Old Stone Helm had found the answer he wanted, but Tito had yet to complete his own mission.

Darkness gradually descended as he walked along the broken stone path.

“La la la la la!”

“La la la la la!”

The sweet, melodious sound of singing carried from afar, as clear as the chiming of wind bells.

One after another, spirits clad in luxurious golden robes came gliding over the flower sea with the wind, descending beside Tito.
They carried lanterns, illuminating the path ahead for Tito.

“Who are you?” Tito asked these beautiful creatures.

As soon as the poet saw their appearance, so similar to Polo, the Messenger of God, he understood their origins.

“We are Dream Spirits, guardians of the divine flower garden,” they replied.

“God sent us to greet you.”

“Welcome, traveler from afar, Tito the poet of the Yinsai.”

The spirits had never seen anyone from the outside world before. Curious, they surrounded the poet, dancing and spinning around him.

Tito was astonished. “Even God… knows of me?”

The Dream Spirits giggled. “God knows all.”

Accompanied and guided by the Dream Spirits, Tito passed through the ruined city in the flower sea and arrived at the base of the pyramid.

He saw the statue of Redlichia, personally crafted by His Highness Yesael, the second-generation King of Wisdom. This great King of Wisdom stood beneath the divine pyramid, forever guarding the passage to the temple of the gods.

As Tito gazed at the statue, his expression one of awe, he ascended the steps one by one.

A giant dream bubble enveloped the entire pyramid. As he passed through the bubble, he felt as if he had entered another world.

Shifting his gaze from the statue, he found himself already in the realm of dreams.

Countless iridescent lights swirled upon the bubble, reflecting one beautiful dream after another.

There was snow.

There were waves of wheat.

There was a summer night forest.

And there was soaring above the sea of clouds.

All were magnificent dreams the poet had never experienced before, dreams that did not belong to mortals.

He looked up towards the top of the pyramid. On either side of the steps stood one Trilobite Man statue after another, holding up flames to illuminate the path to the sacred.

Step by step, he walked the pilgrimage path.

The path once trodden by King Redlichia and King Yesael.

Now, he walked it anew.

At last, he stood before the temple. The pillars were carved with patterns he could not understand, seeming like fantastical scenes from another divine world.

The tall metal doors of the temple reflected a golden light, the entire palace flowing with a noble, dark golden hue, bearing an ancient, timeworn aura.

Holding the Divine Cup, he prostrated himself and entered the temple, crawling on his knees.

Only when he reached the center of the temple did he slowly raise his head to look around.

Upon the altar sat Shelly, the Mother of Life, the legendary king of beasts with a divine countenance, who controlled the Mother Conch of All Things.

As soon as he saw her, his body involuntarily trembled. Even though she looked like a harmless girl, the terrifying aura that surpassed all beasts was already deeply imprinted in the blood of every Trilobite Man.

To the right of the altar was an incomparably beautiful Dream Spirit. This lovely being lay on a magnificent white couch, holding a dream egg as a pillow, wandering in the ocean of dreams.

He saw the power of dreams, with all sorts of things being born from within. It was as if she had inherited the gods’ power to create all things.

He also saw a stone statue kneeling beside the altar. It was Redlichia, their ancestor, the origin of all wisdom.

Just as in the oral traditions, Redlichia ultimately died before the gods, forever accompanying the Yinsai God in the temple.

Finally, he saw the power of the eternal stars projected down from above the altar. The overflowing radiance alone made one feel the might of time, as if even the passage of the ages would halt at the will of the divine.

He dared not look any further.

He feared that the moment he directly gazed upon the divine, he would completely collapse.

“Great Yinsai God! Please accept the faith of this humble Yinsai subject!”

“Your messenger Polo returned to eternal rest amidst the shattering of dreams on the shore of the God-Descended City. Following the guidance of the divine messenger, I embarked on the path back to the God-Given Land.”

At last, he declared, “Now, I have finally arrived before You.”

God raised a hand, and the Divine Cup that Tito held high floated up to the altar, gently grasped in the hand of the divine.

God took back the Divine Cup, yet seemed not to pay it much heed.

Instead, God looked at Tito the poet and spoke.

“Tito, do you still believe in fate?”

Tito was instantly stunned. It was as if this question had pierced straight through his heart.

This single question seemed to tear him apart completely. God’s gaze seemed to see through his everything.

He thought for a moment, then bowed his head to the ground.

“I believe,” he said.

“Because fate is in our own hands.”

“Therefore, I no longer wait for fate to descend, but instead strive to create my own destiny.”

God smiled.

But it was a smile that made Tito feel incomparably at ease. It was the approval of the supreme Yinsai towards him.

When Tito left the temple of the gods, God held the Divine Cup.

After a long while, God let out a sigh.

“Polo…”

The gods allowed Tito to stay briefly in the God-Given Land. He took this opportunity to complete his epic.

At the foot of the temple, in that God-Descended City filled with Sun Cup Flowers, he carefully searched for traces left behind by history.

On the stone tablets, he found ancient stories of old.

In the ruins, he found more proof of legendary events.

At that primordial Ancestral Fish swamp, he saw how the divine blessings of yesteryear had truly allowed the Trilobite Men to create a future.

He stood before a collapsed palace. “This is the former Wisdom Palace, the royal palace that collapsed because Ense committed the crime of patricide?”

A few Dream Spirits accompanied him, guiding his way while also seeking interesting playmates.

“Yes!”

“Yes!”

In this collapsed palace, he carefully explored and actually found fragments of the Redlichia Covenant stone tablets.

The poet was so excited that he danced with joy, like a child who had obtained the world’s most precious treasure.

“The Covenant tablets,” he whispered reverently.

The Dream Spirits thought the poet had gone mad, gathering together to whisper.

“It’s just a broken rock!”

“He’s treating it like a treasure.”

“He’s gone mad, mad.”

“He must be crazy.”

In the eyes of the innocent, ignorant Dream Spirits, these things were just some broken rocks. They did not understand the history and lost glory of the Trilobite Men.

They would not understand the feelings of Tito and all Trilobite Men who wanted to find these things again.

Tito knelt before the Wisdom Palace, tightly embracing the broken Covenant tablets. Tears fell from his blind eyes.

Tears of being moved, and of regret.