I am God LSLCCF

Chapter 237: The Demigod of Wisdom and the Prince of Suinhor

In Moon Light City, everyone worked to restore order. Some extinguished lingering fires while others cleared away bodies. Among the ruins, people desperately searched for survivors.

Prince Smerkel questioned his subordinate, “Have you found his body?”

“No, Your Highness,” the subordinate replied.

“There are too many bodies, and most are mutilated beyond recognition.”

“Keep searching,” Smerkel commanded.

The subordinate hesitated before speaking. “Your Highness, it’s not that we aren’t searching thoroughly. There are simply too many bodies. We cannot distinguish between them.”

“Many corpses are burned and charred beyond recognition.”

“These barbarians showed no mercy in their brutality.”

Smerkel finally conceded with resignation. “Do what you can, but if you cannot find him…”

“Then let it be.”
What purpose would finding his body serve now that he was already dead?

Smerkel sat upon the steps of Moon Light City’s lord’s mansion, gazing at the charred ruins and black ash left in the fire’s wake.

The few survivors who emerged onto the streets moved like walking corpses, their spirits broken.

Smerkel recalled words his teacher had once spoken to him: In times of peace, sons bury their fathers. But in times of war, fathers bury their sons.

Yet what was this scene before him?

Bodies piled like mountains. Fathers, mothers, sons, wives, children all lay where they fell. Entire families, bloodlines, and a whole city perished in a single day and night. Though their deaths had ended the war and bought future peace, who would willingly become such a sacrifice?

Who had the right to choose them as sacrifices?

“Was it I?”

“Is this the duty of a king to choose who must sacrifice, who must die?”

Smerkel leaned back against the steps, turning these questions over and over in his mind.

Beside him lay Luqi’s severed head, eyes still wide open and staring at Smerkel. He remembered his own words, promising Luqi to hold out until his return.

Smerkel covered his face with his hands and lowered his head.

“Heh heh heh heh…”

“How easily those words came to my lips!”

Everything that had transpired in Moon Light City replayed endlessly in Smerkel’s mind. The more he dwelled on it, the more his anger and fear grew.

How could he have spoken such cruel words so casually? Not long ago, he had been merely a prince who had never witnessed bloodshed within the palace walls.

War could transform not only nations but countless individuals, and he was no exception.

The fate of an entire nation, the lives and deaths of countless people, the choice between victory and defeat – these forces could fundamentally change a person, drive them to madness.

From the moment one stepped onto the battlefield, no one truly controlled their own destiny, be they porter, soldier, general, or commander.

All became mere cogs in war’s great wheel, inevitably descending into madness.

“Hahahahaha!”

“So then…”

“Is this what it means to be king? To choose to sacrifice some to save others? To send one group to their deaths so another might live?”

Smerkel cried out until his voice grew hoarse: “This is nothing like I imagined! Nothing at all like I imagined!”

“Father, you never told me…”

He had been an idealistic youth, but now his perfect ideals and expectations lay completely shattered.

Smerkel’s breakdown frightened many of those present.

Some whispered that Prince Smerkel had gone mad. This was not unusual many maintained perfect composure like war gods on the battlefield only to break down after.

It wasn’t until the next day that Smerkel grew quiet again, though he remained withdrawn and spoke little.

—

The City of Fire Protection held a grand welcoming ceremony. Everyone gathered to greet the victorious army and Prince Smerkel who had led them to triumph.

“Have you heard? Prince Smerkel killed tens of thousands and captured even more prisoners!” The common folk knew nothing of war’s true brutality. They felt only shock and excitement, death merely a number to their senses.

“So many? Surely this must have wiped out all the young men among those herding tribe barbarians?” Some were stunned, unable to comprehend such massive loss of life.

“Those barbarians breed like rabbits there are so many of them. Kill ten times as many and you still wouldn’t finish them off.” Some felt too few had died, wishing even more had been slain.

The crowd pressed forward as the army entered through the city gates.

Everyone wanted to get closer to these battlefield heroes, to glimpse the victorious warriors and the commander who had led them to such a glorious triumph.

Prince Smerkel of the Suinhor City-State stood atop his war chariot pulled by Land Dragons.

His armor gleamed in the sunlight as his blood-red cape billowed behind him.

“Prince Smerkel!” Groups of young people cheered, their worship of the strong burning deep in their bones.

“Look, it’s His Highness!” Young women of the City of Fire Protection cried out.

“He looks just like King Alpens did long ago!” Some elderly veterans who had fought alongside Alpens in their youth saw in him echoes of the young king they had once followed.

Prince Smerkel watched as people welcomed him with admiration and worship. The crowd’s jubilant cheers and prostrating bodies made him feel like a god descended to accept mortal worship.

They spoke loudly of his accomplishments, counting how many enemies he had slain.

No one knew of the fateful decision Smerkel had made that day, and none would remember the fallen Luqi.

History would not record such things. All anyone would know was that the cruel and brutal herding tribe barbarians had slaughtered Moon Light City’s civilians, and their prince had avenged them.

His gaze swept over their faces.

Countless times he had watched his father ride his war chariot through these streets, inspecting his territories and kingdom.

Countless times he had dreamed of following in his father’s footsteps, achieving deeds worthy of historical record, becoming a true hero and warrior whom people would worship.

Yet now that he had actually accomplished this, his feelings were entirely different.

He entered the palace where his father, King Alpens, awaited him.

Alpens stepped forward and embraced his son with strong arms, looking at Smerkel with pride: “Congratulations, my son.”

“This is a glorious victory.”

Smerkel remained silent. Usually, he would have excitedly shared his joy with Alpens.

Like an eager child rushing to show his father his achievements.

But now.

Smerkel only lowered his head.

Alpens studied him: “You do not seem happy.”

Blood vessels showed in Smerkel’s eyes from many sleepless nights.

He looked first at his father, the Divine Blessed King who had established the Suinhor City-State, then averted his gaze.

His eyes fell upon the high throne as he spoke slowly.

“Father.”

“I finally understand what it means to become king.”

“One can only ascend to kingship by stepping upon the blood of others. This throne is forged from corpses and flesh!”

“Not just the flesh of enemies, but of friends and brothers as well.”

Smerkel recited in the style his teacher had taught him: “On the battlefield one slays without thought, yet midnight dreams bring no peace thereafter.”

Smerkel looked at his father and suddenly asked.

“Father, Great Divine Blessed King… have you never suffered from nightmares?”

Alpens told Smerkel: “Sacrifice is necessary. Only through sacrifice can we achieve victory.”

Smerkel suddenly cried out: “I cannot do it!”

“I am not so cold-blooded.”

Smerkel’s pupils dilated as his expression revealed a profound questioning. He doubted himself and the very nature of kingship.

“Perhaps for a moment, my blood ran cold.”

“But every time I recall what I have done, I feel sick.”

“So sick I want to vomit.”

Smerkel’s voice changed: “I know I had no choice. I know I had to do it. But knowing this only makes me feel more insane.”

“When one sits upon the throne, sacrificing others needs no excuse. It becomes destiny, mission, responsibility.”

“They will force you to sacrifice others. You can righteously send others to their deaths, send everyone to their deaths.”

“I remember telling Luqi that I needed to sacrifice his people, sacrifice his entire city. I watched silently as he led everyone to their deaths.”

“With a single word, I condemned Luqi, his family, and everyone in Moon Light City to death.”

“I would do anything for victory, sacrifice everything to become king.”

“I sacrificed them all.”

Smerkel roared, his entire being consumed by madness yet simultaneously helpless beyond measure.

Alpens and Smerkel were two very different men. The former was born carving paths through wilderness, emerging from a chaotic age, forged in blood and fire.

Smerkel had grown up in palace courts, Alpens’s only son, tutored by renowned scholars.

Alpens understood why his son spoke such words, yet he could not fully comprehend his son’s emotions.

“You are exhausted.”

“You should go rest.”

Alpens sent his son to sleep well, and Smerkel turned to leave.

The next day, when Alpens sent someone to find Smerkel, they discovered he had vanished without a trace.

He had left behind nothing but a letter.

It read:

“I lack a king’s capacity and the courage to sacrifice everyone to claim the throne.”

The palace guards panicked and rushed to deliver the letter to Alpens.

The minister of the Suinhor City-State stood beside Alpens, growing anxious as well.

“My King!”

“What shall we do?”

Alpens remained calm: “It is nothing.”

“Simply say my son has gone to inspect the cities of our alliance. He is, after all, the heir of Suinhor.”

“It is perfectly natural for him to see the different parts of his kingdom before ascending to the throne.”

The minister asked: “But what if His Highness never returns?”

After some thought, the minister added: “We must send people to search. We must find Prince Smerkel and bring him back.”

Alpens gazed deeply at the throne within the palace.

“He will eventually understand his duty.”

“It is not about climbing to the throne over corpses and blood. It is because so many have sacrificed that he must become king.”

“Only by becoming king can he make these sacrifices meaningful.”

—

Iva the Ferryman wandered the earth, walking through wilderness. He had seen village after village, hiding in the corners of cities.

His sense of time was poor, and several years passed without his notice.

To him, it felt like walking down one long street. Occasionally he would pause to contemplate what he had witnessed.

He came to a jungle, carrying an unlit lamp.

Only his emotions and desires could light this lamp.

Yet even now he had not experienced the emotions and desires he sought.

Nor had he completed the mission God Yinsai had given him, though this task inherently required time.

God Yinsai was not impatient, and as a myth, he too had time enough.

He lit a fire in the jungle and sat beside it.

The flames cast Iva’s solitary shadow, swaying in the firelight.

He suddenly recalled his first encounter in the mortal realm, the couple he had met, and the question he had asked them.

“Does being together bring happiness?”

Their answer had been so certain, as if requiring no thought at all.

“Of course.”

In that same forest, a young musician approached, alone yet content, singing poems of his own composition.

He carried a harp, singing wherever he went.

Strangely, he sang not the famous epic poems glorifying kings, heroes, and ancient myths.

Instead, he sang rustic tunes of shepherdesses and farmers in love, tales of noble scandals, and peculiar ghost stories.

He sang whatever came to mind.

This young musician was Prince Smerkel, who had left the City of Fire Protection to live anonymously as a common man.

While confined to the palace, he had watched wandering musicians singing beyond the walls, sharing their rich experiences and strange tales.

These wandering musicians descended from court musicians who, having lost their livelihood, began traveling between cities and villages. They generally possessed vast knowledge and experience, forming a fascinating group.

He had once thought that if he could not be king, becoming a wandering musician would be a fine choice.

Now he truly wandered the world with his favorite instrument, living out his childhood dream as he traveled and sang his favorite stories.

Night fell.

He had not yet found lodging, and the next city or village lay far ahead, so he prepared to rest here.

At that moment, he spotted firelight in the distance.

Moonlight filtered through the jungle canopy onto Smerkel while firelight illuminated Iva’s silhouette.

Their eyes met as they turned to look at each other.

A demigod of wisdom who had not yet discovered how to plant wishes in mortal hearts and a lost, wandering prince met by chance.

Upon seeing another person approach, Iva stood to depart.

He knew what would happen next.

As always, most people who saw his true form inevitably reacted with terror.

However, this harp-carrying musician said:

“Why leave?”

“Meeting like this must be fate. We are the only two people in this wilderness. Why not stay and talk awhile?”

Seeing Iva’s form so different from snake people, his magnificent robes and lack of a tail.

The prince showed no fear, instead sitting directly beside him.

Smerkel greeted him with a smile: “Hello.”

Iva responded: “Hello.”

This was an intersection of destinies.

Smerkel moved closer to the fire, studying Iva’s appearance. His features resembled neither the city-state people nor the herding tribes.

To Smerkel, he emanated an exotic, otherworldly presence.

If he resembled anyone, it was the deity called the Scarlet Witch in the temples, ruler of the Blood Kingdom of the Deep Sea.

He carried himself with an ancient, otherworldly presence.

Smerkel told him his real name: “I am Smerkel.”

Iva said: “I am Iva.”

Smerkel carried a leather flask. He shook it, took a drink, then offered it to Iva.

“Try some.”

Iva asked: “What is it?”

Smerkel said: “Sweet wine.”

“A precious thing that brings happiness. I had quite some trouble acquiring it.”

“It helps you forget your troubles and recall happy memories.”

Sweet wine was made from fermented fern balls, carrying a strong sweetness. It had become popular in the major cities of the Suinhor City-State, and many city temples used it as offerings to deities.

Hearing this description, Iva grew interested.

He first peered into the leather flask, then smelled it.

He took a sip, then showed a puzzled expression.

“But I feel no happiness?”

Smerkel laughed: “You must be someone who has never known either trouble or happiness.”

Iva asked him: “How do you know?”

“I have spoken with many people and questioned many more.”

“Yet I still cannot understand why they worry or what makes them happy.”

Smerkel said: “Only when your heart connects with others can you truly understand their feelings and know their inner thoughts.”

Iva said: “I can clearly see into others’ hearts. The power of Wisdom allows me to see everything within the human heart.”

Smerkel could not help himself, laughing so hard he struck the ground: “Seeing into someone’s heart and understanding their heart are two very different things.”

“Another’s happiness remains their own, just as another’s joy belongs only to them.”

“Only when you have experienced the same joy can you truly understand another’s emotions.”

Iva still did not quite understand.

Smerkel studied Iva, realizing he truly did not comprehend.

This strange “person” seemed not to belong to the human world, coming from some isolated place, disconnected from all earthly matters.

Smerkel suddenly proposed: “I have an idea!”

“Let’s play a game.”

Smerkel suggested they both hold their hands over the fire. Whoever pulled away first would lose.

“What purpose does this serve?” Iva asked.

“Some things have no purpose, yet they can be interesting,” Smerkel replied.

Smerkel extended his hand, confident as one who shared the Life Ability that ordinary flames could not harm his form.

He intended to startle Iva, to tease him and show him how people interact with one another.

However, when Iva extended his hand, Smerkel’s eyes widened.

His hand was formed of intertwined vines twisted together.

The moment Iva’s hand stretched over the flames, it burst into fire.

They stared at each other in shock, Smerkel’s mouth agape while Iva remained motionless.

After a long moment, Smerkel suddenly cried out.

“Oh no!”

“You’re on fire! You’re burning!”

Smerkel scrambled in panic, kicking away the campfire and searching for something to extinguish the flames.

Then he noticed the flask in his hand.

He poured the precious sweet wine over Iva’s hand, patting frantically until the flames on Iva’s arm were finally extinguished.

After all the commotion, Smerkel’s face was covered in soot.

Iva’s arm was charred halfway up, held high like a burning torch.

Smerkel burst into laughter first: “Hahahahaha!”

Then Iva looked at Smerkel’s face, then at his own arm.

As if infected by the emotion, he found himself laughing along.

The two of them roared with laughter.

Laughing without restraint.

Laughing without hiding.

Laughing until they doubled over.

Iva suddenly understood something. An act with absolutely no meaning, something that seemed utterly foolish.

When someone shares it with you, it becomes entirely different.

Smerkel gathered new firewood and lit it.

“Let’s not count that one.”

“Now then.”

“Let’s tell stories!”

Iva said: “Stories I can do.”

Iva knew many stories, knowing countless secrets not of this mortal realm.

Smerkel sat casually by the fire, leaning against a tree as he played his harp. He thought of his father.

King Alpens, that legendary Divine Blessed King.

Compared to Smerkel himself, his father was full of courage and responsibility.

He faced all difficulties without hesitation, daring to challenge the highest peaks.

As he played his harp, he sang the song of Alpens ascending the Mountain of Life’s Origin:

“…”

“King Alpens~”

“He descended to the Blood Kingdom in the deep sea depths; he is the Divine Blessed King, knower of all worldly secrets.

“He knows the height of the Mountain of Life’s Origin; he knows the mysteries of the Mother of Life’s temple.”

“…”

With a final strum, Smerkel stopped playing.

Smerkel closed his eyes, savoring the lingering melody and rhythm.

He opened his eyes and looked at Iva.

It was Iva’s turn to share a story.

Listening to Smerkel’s song of praise, Iva suddenly recalled another story, one connected to himself.

Iva’s story had no rhythm, no accompanying poetry.

Though he spoke simply without embellishment, his story carried equal power.

This was a tale of two brothers.

“Long ago, an ancient king died.”

“His children’s descendants established four kingdoms, named after the first king’s children: Volcano, Starlight, Sea, and Desert. They possessed God-given power of destruction, the ability to destroy all things.”

“These represented their inheritance and contained the first king’s wishes for them.”

“Everything began with two children of the Volcano Kingdom’s royal family.”

“One was called Weishi.”

“And the other.”

“Was called Henir.”

Smerkel listened intently, the endless conquests of the four kingdoms filling him with dread, the mere mention of their destructive power striking terror.

He heard how Weishi Hosen was killed by Henir, how Henir slaughtered the entire Royal Bloodline of the Hosen family. At first, he could not understand why Henir would do such things.

But as he listened further, understanding gradually came.

Only by ending the remnants of the previous era could a new future begin.

He heard how Henir destroyed all the royal bloodline families, how the light-bearing saint banished the power of destruction, ushering in a new age.

Henir finally ascended the throne, becoming the king who unified all lands.

Though the story spoke obliquely of gods and monsters, with God never formally appearing, the sense of almighty power and mortals’ faith and dependence could be heard throughout the tale.

“Finally.”

“The nightmare flower that devoured Weishi Hosen became Henir’s ultimate fate.”

“Weishi Hosen and his half-brother Henir, who began slaughter and killing for royal power, became entangled in nightmares after death, ultimately dissipating together.”

“Your beginning determines your end.”

“Life is like a maze. You walk and pause, only to discover your starting point is also your exit.”

As Iva finished his story, Smerkel sat stunned.

This tale contained gods who never appeared yet were omnipresent, kings of varying character, saints who began lost yet always walked the path of redemption.

There were those who clutched power until death, innocent victims caught in chaos, those who would sacrifice everything for their goals, and those who sacrificed themselves for redemption.

All these diverse elements combined into an epic tapestry that stirred the soul.

Everyone existed within this painting, everyone struggled forward, everyone faced choices.

Each person had their own desires and pursuits, things they could not abandon even in death.

There were no truly perfect people. Only when facing real choices would one truly understand what their heart pursued and desired.

Smerkel asked: “Is this true?”

The story felt so real that Smerkel could hardly believe it was merely a tale.

“Could there be other kingdoms and city-states in this world beyond what we know?”

Iva told him: “Not elsewhere, but right beneath your feet.”

Iva spoke calmly: “This was once another kingdom. They were born here and faded away here.”

Ruhe Beast Island was once everything to the Trilobite people. All they had remained here.

“All civilizations and peoples are like this. They are born here and fade away here.”

Everything is destined to fade into historical dust and dream bubbles, remembered only by the star sea of God’s realm.

The two stood upon the earth, raising their heads to gaze at the stars above.

When you look up, suddenly the world and yourself feel so small, while the sky and stars are rotating, and you gradually lose yourself in that sensation of rotation.

Lost amid the infinite stars, adrift in the vast ocean of existence.

Smerkel asked Iva: “Do all who die return to the star sea of God’s realm?”

Iva answered: “All strife and hatred, each person’s birth and death, ultimately returns to eternal peace, becoming life’s dreams forever inscribed in the dream star sea.”

Smerkel suddenly thought of the fallen Luqi, his dead comrades.

And all those who died in Moon Light City, all those who perished in the war.

In the end.

Had they all returned to the star sea above?

Had they all become like the stars themselves?

Smerkel’s gaze fixed upon that sea of stars, his thoughts already flying to that realm of God.

“If possible, I truly wish to see it.”

“I wish to see what that dream star sea truly looks like, that boundless galaxy where all life’s dreams reside.”