After Jiang Jianming and Lin Ge settled down, they lived a relatively peaceful life for a while.
This place was one that Jiang Jianming had carefully scouted for information over several years. It was located on the edge of the Z2 wild zone, barren and remote, but with weak control from the lord.
At the same time, this place was known as the final resting place for chronic crystal disorder patients – a huge pit for discarded bodies stood silently at the end, filled with densely packed corpses of chronic crystal disorder patients who had taken their own lives.
The people who lived here were almost all waiting to die. They lived in a daze, not distinguishing between day and night, let alone counting the days, months, and years.
But Jiang Jianming kept track of the days.
At the beginning of each month, after ensuring that he and Lin Ge had enough daily necessities in stock, he would distribute some food to the poor refugees in the area.
Gradually, the refugees in the area came to know about this strange pair of siblings.
As time went on, the people around them also learned to keep track of the days.
Especially for those who were the most destitute and desperate, whose lives originally had no hope and who were just living like walking corpses waiting to die, now the beginning of each month became something to look forward to.
But the food was actually just bait. When more refugees gathered, Jiang Jianming began to spread knowledge to these strangers.
He taught people how to grow suitable crops on the dry land, how to filter polluted water with burnt charcoal, how to make traps and weapons to deal with alien creatures.
He told stories about history, myths and fables, poetry, and what human civilization was like in the old Blue Mother Star era.
… Until much, much later, when Dawn Aslan became the founding leader, there were still people who reminisced about that time.
The bonfire burned a small hole in the night, and this group of the most humble people gathered around, staring eagerly at the figure in the center.
The black-haired youth wore a worn-out cloak, his eyes lowered, speaking in a gentle voice about things they half understood and half didn’t.
He was enveloped in warm light, like a world-saving deity.
“God said, ‘Let there be light,’ and there was light.”
“God saw that the light was good, and he separated the light from the darkness.”
Even so, when Jiang Jianming’s chronic crystal disorder flared up, no one cared about him.
The first time he had an attack in public, he fell to the ground convulsing and vomiting blood. People fled in terror, and some children threw stones at him. He couldn’t get up and couldn’t see who it was.
Lin Ge pushed through the crowd to get to him, shielding him behind her, cursing loudly at the surrounding crowd.
But at the beginning of the next month, Jiang Jianming was still there.
“God told man, ‘You are free to eat from any tree in the garden; but you must not eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, for when you eat from it you will certainly die.'”
Month after month.
Spring winds melted the winter snow, autumn winds swept away the summer leaves.
The chronic crystal disorder caused Jiang Jianming’s body to deteriorate.
At that time, people didn’t understand what crystal disorder was. He feared he might really infect Lin Ge, so he divided the dilapidated house with a partition, leaving a small, pitch-black space for himself.
It could barely accommodate an adult lying down. Whenever he had an attack, he would hide in there and lock it, curled up.
Once he stayed in there for too long, and Lin Ge couldn’t bear it anymore. She broke down the door and went in, screaming on the spot.
She saw large patches of blood. Old dried blood, fresh wet blood, the youth lying in the middle of it all, vomit everywhere, and the floor scratched with bloody marks.
“The serpent said to the humans, ‘You will not certainly die. For God knows that when you eat from it your eyes will be opened, and you will be like God, knowing good and evil.'”
That day, after Jiang Jianming regained consciousness, he truly got angry at Lin Ge for the first time.
He grabbed the girl, picked up the willow branch usually used for making fire, and beat her, scolding her with each strike.
Lin Ge didn’t dare to dodge, she just cried out loudly… not knowing what she was crying about.
There was no way out.
Faced with a terminal illness, no one had a solution.
Later, Jiang Jianming began to carve his own flesh and bone, picking out the solidified crystals, using this crudest method to delay his death.
Just as Helga had once done.
The fire-heated knife cut into the porcelain-white skin, blood gushing out violently.
He held back his groans of pain in his throat, glaring at those crystals with a hint of ferocity in his eyes.
“So the humans took some of the fruit and ate it. Their eyes were opened, and they realized they were naked; so they sewed fig leaves together and made coverings for themselves.”
The night was cool as water, the bonfire crackling. A group of thin, sallow-faced children chattered away.
“Why didn’t God let humans know good and evil?”
“Why did He lie and say they would die if they ate the fruit of the knowledge of good and evil?”
“Why did humans disobey God? Was the fruit of the tree of knowledge of good and evil that delicious? Was it fragrant? Sweet?”
Jiang Jianming smiled without speaking, and in an angle where others couldn’t see, he clutched his cloak tightly with a trembling hand.
His illness had flared up a few days ago, and now he was sitting here enduring excruciating pain all over his body. He couldn’t say much, and his back was covered in cold sweat.
The curious poor people asked, “Hey, hey, what happened next?”
“Then…” Jiang Jianming gathered his strength, but when he opened his mouth, he found his voice was terribly hoarse.
He cleared his throat forcefully, swallowing the sweet, metallic taste in his mouth, “God banished the humans from the Garden of Eden…”
Before he could finish the sentence, he suddenly felt dizzy and couldn’t make any sound.
When he came to, he was already lying limp on the cold ground. The poor people around him got up and left, avoiding him as if he were a plague.
Amidst the chaotic footsteps, abruptly, an arm covered in dirty ash reached out.
Jiang Jianming thought someone wanted to help him up. But that arm passed in front of his eyes, five fingers snatching – opportunistically stealing his water bag.
Then, everyone around him ran away again.
Jiang Jianming had no other choice. After trying to get up twice and failing, he had to lie there, foolishly counting the stars scattered across the sky.
His consciousness dissolved in the starlight. Recently, he had started to lose the distinction between fainting and sleeping, and most of the time his body was in pain.
He knew he was almost…
“Dawn!!”
In his haze, Jiang Jianming heard Lin Ge calling him, but he couldn’t open his eyes.
” —Jiang!!”
The bonfire had already gone out, and the distant horizon had its outline erased by darkness.
All around was cold and quiet, the crowd long gone. A girl in tattered clothes knelt on the ground, tightly hugging the ice-cold body of the youth.
Jiang Jianming raised his pale face, devoid of any color. He rested his hand on the girl’s trembling shoulder, gently shaking his head.
“I told you not to call that name… Have you finished today’s lessons?”
“No! I haven’t!”
Lin Ge looked up, her eyes red as she screamed, “I won’t do it, I can’t understand it at all! And you should stop dreaming those grand dreams too. I’m not a good person, and I don’t want to become one! I don’t have knowledge, and I can’t learn it!”
“No matter how hard you try, you can’t turn me into something good, and it’s the same for those people!”
“We’re destined to be different from you. We’re all trash, scum, you can’t teach an old dog new tricks, you can’t make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear…”
Suddenly, Jiang Jianming reached out and pulled Lin Ge into his arms.
Lin Ge’s eyes widened. In the next second, she whimpered, and large tears fell from her eyes.
****
In the 51st year of the Old Imperial Calendar.
The ants of the wild areas were still struggling in the mud, seemingly untouched by the tides of the era.
However, in this year, an event occurred that would set the wheels of history spinning wildly.
“The Blood-Red Invader” Orlando, the founder of the Holy Human Empire and its first emperor, Odin – after personally creating the first interstellar empire in human history and maintaining his rule for fifty-one years, his fierce desire for conquest and control finally burned out his life.
In the interstellar age, human lifespans had greatly extended, but immortality was still unattainable.
Odin had spent his youth in constant warfare, and in his prime, he ruled the empire with an iron fist, constantly paranoid, killing this person and slaughtering that one – by no means a healthy lifestyle.
Not to mention the mental stress after learning the truth about crystal particles, and the inner conflict after deciding to personally cultivate Kaios.
The tyrant’s body deteriorated in less than a year.
At the beginning of the 51st year of the Old Imperial Calendar, Odin passed the throne to the Crown Prince, his eldest son Andrew Odin II.
Two months later, Odin I passed away.
On his deathbed, the tyrant left behind a famous last word for posterity –
“Never lower the battle flag, our conquest shall be endless.”
When the news spread, it immediately shook the entire empire.
The Yongle Garden Star City ordered all citizens to hang white veils, all celebrations were suspended for three months, entertainment activities were forbidden, people could only wear white or black mourning clothes on the streets, and were not even allowed to laugh or make noise in public.
Those who violated the ban would be beheaded, and in severe cases, their entire family would be implicated.
Wails of sorrow echoed throughout the palace.
The youngest prince sat outside the great hall.
His emerald eyes were empty.
Odin was dead.
Dead before he could kill him himself.
This little monster felt neither joy nor sorrow.
He just suddenly felt empty, utterly empty.
In fact, his soul had never been truly filled. It was just that in these years, the battle of wits with Odin had barely become a goal in his boring days.
He craved bloodshed, craved conquest, craved to kill this powerful man with his own hands.
But now Odin was dead, and he no longer had any reason to stay here.
If there was anything he still desired… he did want to know why he was created.
He could hardly believe it was just “for crystal particle research” given how much manpower and resources the laboratory had invested, with Emperor Odin personally overseeing it.
While the crying continued endlessly, someone came to the great hall.
Only when a shadow blocked his view and the servant’s shrill voice urged him to pay respects did the young prince with platinum curls lazily raise his eyelids.
Andrew Odin stood before him.
The new emperor appeared to be in his thirties or forties, with red hair and green eyes similar to Odin’s, wearing a black noble funeral attire.
Years of luxurious living had made his figure large and bulky, his rugged brow full of arrogance, looking down with contempt in his eyes.
“We have heard the truth about you from the Gray Owl Laboratory,” Andrew said.
He smirked and sneered, “Kaios…Zhen once thought you were truly of Zhen father’s bloodline, but it turns out you’re just an experimental subject for research.”
A few years ago, this new emperor had felt greatly threatened by this child’s arrival, unable to sleep for several nights in a row.
But soon, he discovered that this little bastard had no interest in power.
–In fact, the little bastard seemed to have no interest in anything at all.
Treasures, beauties, fame, enjoyment… Prince Kaios showed no interest in any of these. The only thing he willingly did was to occasionally offend the emperor and destroy part of the palace during fights.
Over the years, Andrew had barely met this nominal royal brother a few times.
Until today, when the throne fell steadily into his hands.
When the royal physician announced the news of death, the new emperor had to use kowtowing and wailing to cover up his excited, pulsing blood vessels.
–From now on, he would be the supreme being ruling over this human interstellar empire, a god who could indulge in his desires at will.
Those weedy millions of lowly people would use their lives and sweat to support him, and his every casual word would determine the future path of humanity.
“Although Zhen doesn’t know why Father tolerated you before, from now on…Zhen is the Emperor.”
Andrew raised his chin and narrowed his eyes. Today’s show of force against this reclusive little mongrel was the beginning of his imperial power.
“Kneel down, and declare your future submission with your kowtow.”
He had heard that this young prince had Super S-class crystal bones, which must be why his battle-hardened father had favored him.
But it didn’t matter. From now on, he would tame this wild horse with the scepter of an emperor, putting reins and a bridle on it.
“Or… if you want to return to the laboratory and suffer unbearably, Zhen will also grant you the right to enjoy pain.”
A cold wind blew through the imperial palace hall.
The new emperor stood, glaring angrily.
The young prince sat, looking bored.
Servants and guards stood nervously behind, waiting for the emperor’s orders at any moment.
“…”
After a few seconds of eye contact, Kaios was the first to look away. Then, a dangerous smile appeared on this beautiful youth’s lips.
“It seems Odin wasn’t a good father.”
Kaios snorted softly, something glinting at his wrist.
“Didn’t he warn you before he died…”
“Not to provoke me?”
