Everything seemed to be back on track.
Langmuir began to live as usual. He would sit in the shade of the flowers in the back garden, playing the harp, walking barefoot down the white steps of the temple, caring for and guiding every confused person who prayed to him.
Only sometimes he would suddenly become dazed, standing blankly in the brilliant sunlight, not waking up even after being called several times by others.
In his spare time, the son of god hid in the study, carefully reading some ancient books that no one had flipped through.
One day, the elder prophet passed by the door, looking him up and down.
Langmuir just looked up and laughed lightly, politely calling out “Elder”, as cute as a little squirrel.
The elder prophet walked in with his staff, gently asking him what book he was reading. Langmuir obediently showed him the flora and fauna atlas in his hand.
The old man, with a smile that did not reach his eyes, stared at the book like a hawk. After flipping through it twice and finding no flaws, he had to return the book to Langmuir.
Before leaving, the prophet paused.
He suddenly leaned over to the blond youth’s ear and spat out like a curse, “Son of God, do you know your mistake now?”
Suddenly, Langmuir’s pupils contracted, he grabbed the corner of the table tightly, and began to breathe rapidly!
The power of the mind spell was far more than a day or two of pain, the same words instantly pulled him back into the torture of that day.
The old man cruelly repeated the same tone. “Son of God, were you wrong?”
Langmuir’s eyes uncontrollably began to dilate, he broke out in a cold sweat and slumped down, murmuring, “I… was… wrong…”
“Demon race, ugh…evil…Demon King…made a mistake…repentance…”
The consciousness of the blond youth gradually became blurred, shaking his head non-stop, hoarsely muttering. In the end, his eyes were empty and he slumped on the mahogany chair, no longer able to utter any meaningful words.
The prophet finally nodded in satisfaction, pinched the back of Langmuir’s neck with magic, and the son of god silently fainted.
He picked up his staff and elegantly walked out of the study, telling the knights standing not far away, “The Son of God has fallen asleep in the study, carry him back to his bedroom to rest.”
But the next day, Langmuir was still sitting in the study reading a book as if nothing had happened. This time he picked up a collection of wild history, laughing when he came across interesting parts.
The elders observed for many days, but it was difficult to determine how much effect that mind spell ultimately had.
But they didn’t care.
Whether Langmuir really hurt his brain or was pretending to have amnesia, it didn’t matter. As long as the son of god was in the temple, he was destined not to cause any waves, and he could not find the “truth” he desired.
Maintaining peace on the surface was not a bad thing.
Before long, the temple released news that the Son of God, Langmuir, had successfully killed the Demon King in the abyss.
That day, the whole country celebrated, and the blond youth appeared in front of everyone in a white robe.
He stood quietly at the highest point, holding the Cross Sword of Light in his hand, carrying the Holy Golden Bow on his back, wearing a woven flower crown on his head, silently accepting the cheers of all the people.
The elders stood behind, watching this scene with satisfaction.
Look, if they wanted to torture this child mentally, there were plenty of ways.
Even if Langmuir still had will, what about it? Such repeated torment, anyone would not be able to bear. Time would wear down the young man’s persistence until he was once again under their control.
Days passed one by one, autumn leaves fell, and it gradually came to a time when one could look forward to snowfall.
On an ordinary-looking morning, after Langmuir finished his customary prayer, Knight Gilbert came in.
“Lord Son of God, how is your health recently? A ‘demon-possessed’ criminal has been newly imprisoned in the royal city’s prison, and you need to go and purify him.”
“I understand,” Langmuir said softly, “I’ll tidy up a bit, and then set off.”
Under the escort of a team of knights, the carriage drove out of the temple and entered the palace.
Here, different from the temple, was another kind of opulence, with elegant bedrooms connected to towers, beautiful gardens connected to pavilions. A row of gray sparrows stood by the fountain, making the winter day look very refreshing.
“Brother!”
As soon as Langmuir was helped down from the carriage, he saw his younger brother Aiden running over from the path.
He called out, “Aiden, slow down, watch your step.”
Prince Aiden ran to the carriage in two steps, hugging Langmuir tightly with a heartache, “Brother, why have you lost so much weight!”
He pouted angrily, “Did the elders of the temple bully you?”
Langmuir was taken aback.
During this time, whoever saw his pale and thin, dazed look, said that he had been harmed by the demon.
He slowly lowered his eyes and stroked his brother’s hair, “…Aiden, don’t worry about me.”
But Aiden was startled, “Brother, why are your hands so cold!”
Langmuir: “It’s okay, I just washed my hands with cold water before going out.”
Aiden was half-believing, but Langmuir quickly changed the subject. The two brothers walked around the palace garden, and Langmuir asked about his brother’s homework.
“You have to work hard.” Langmuir said, “I have been harmed by the demon, and it is unknown whether I can ascend to the throne as a Holy Monarch in the future. Aiden, you are also a child of the royal family, you cannot slack off in your studies.”
Aiden was already anxious about Langmuir’s much-reduced appearance, and when he heard this, he was so upset that he was about to cry.
He also heard Gilbert explain that the son of god returned to the palace this time to purify the criminal, and hurriedly hugged his brother and said, “Brother, if you’re not feeling well, don’t go today.”
Langmuir shook his head and smiled, “I have to go. Only the Son of God can give relief to the sinners possessed by demons, it’s my duty.”
Soon, Langmuir said goodbye to his brother, stuffed the prepared gift into the little prince’s arms, and asked him to greet their parents on his behalf. He then walked to the royal city’s prison, accompanied by the knights.
In fact, at that time, the so-called “possessed by a demon” did not really mean that the criminal had any substantial relationship with the demon race – the demon race was sealed in the ground, how could ordinary people come into contact with them?
This crime, in the kingdom, often referred to some mentally deranged madmen, people who spoke wildly and falsely, or extremely evil murderers.
Under the illumination of the Goddess of Light, there should be no madness and evil in the world. If there were still evil people, they must have been bewitched by demons – this was the logic that the temple proclaimed to the world.
According to the rules, such criminals were to be purified by the son of god in a ceremony, and then sent to the guillotine.
“Lord Son of God.”
The prison warden opened the lock chain of the cell door for him, and respectfully saluted, “Please purify the filth.”
Langmuir politely thanked him, and then walked in. The prison was very dark, and the light from the wall lamp was of no use. Gilbert stood by his side, holding a lamp to illuminate him, and sent the son of god down the long underground steps.
At the deepest part of the underground, separated by a locked iron fence, Langmuir saw the so-called “possessed by a demon”.
The criminal was wrapped in a dirty cloak, with shackles on his hands and feet, sitting cross-legged on a pile of straw, his hunched back making him look very thin.
Hearing the footsteps, the criminal turned his head and called out in a hoarse voice, “Lord Son of God.”
A strange ripple suddenly appeared in Langmuir’s eyes, which had been silent for many days.
It was an old woman with white hair, deep-set eyes, and a face full of vicissitudes. Although her posture was calm, there was a strange fire in her eyes, like an angry bull.
Langmuir took the lamp from the knight’s hand, “Gilbert, you go down first. Stand outside and don’t let anyone else in.”
“Yes, Lord Son of God.” Gilbert retreated with his hand on his chest, “Please be careful.”
For this kind of criminal sentenced to death, ordinary people had nothing to say to them.
But the son of god was kind-hearted, wanting to talk to the death row inmate alone was a common thing. Therefore, Gilbert didn’t think much about it.
Langmuir watched the knight leave, and pushed open the gate of the cell.
Several months had passed, it seemed that even Gilbert had forgotten, but the son of god himself had not.
On the return journey of that “Evil Purification” ceremony in autumn, he had met a strange old woman.
Langmuir walked step by step into the cell.
Just when he was about a dozen steps away from the old woman, she spoke up.
“Lord Son of God, have you been to the abyss?”
Langmuir’s lamp in his hand shook.
Before he could steady his mind, the hoarse voice asked again.
“Have you seen our brethren?”
Suddenly, like a heavy hammer hitting fragile thin ice, Langmuir’s face turned pale instantly!
“Ugh…”
The lamp slipped from his hand and fell to the ground, the candlelight flickered and then went out.
The son of god groaned, stumbled in the dark, and leaned against the wall.
The old woman frowned, “Son of God?”
Langmuir was panting in pain, struggling to say word by word, “…Indeed…I have been to the abyss. But I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
As he spoke, he calmly raised his hand, gathered mana with his trembling fingertips, and cast a healing spell to stabilize his mind on himself.
The old woman stared straight at him, seemingly faintly guessing what might happen to this child, so a trace of shock appeared on her face.
“If that’s the case,” but she still cautiously probed, “What did the Son of God see in the abyss?”
Langmuir closed his eyes and slowly let his state calm down.
He said softly, “I saw endless darkness, scorching flames, creatures struggling in hell, and layers of fog that made me unable to see the road ahead.”
“The demons there bewitched me, deceived me. They claimed that they were not born evil, and that the sun of the human world should also belong to them.”
The old woman asked sternly, “What if that’s not bewitchment and deception?”
Langmuir opened his eyes, and by this time he had completely calmed down, so the clarity and firmness in his eyes were finally fully revealed.
“If not.” He said calmly, “I should also walk on the path guided by the holy teachings.”
The old woman’s face, full of wrinkles, twitched, and her lips moved.
The memory seemed to return to the day of the purification ceremony, the cheering crowd on the street, and the young son of god sitting in the carriage. That gentle voice echoed again in this cell:
——The holy teachings say: Everyone living in the world bears sin.
Those who are awakened, who know their mistakes, who repent and make up for them, will be guided by the light.
The old woman’s bull-like angry eyes finally softened, and she looked at the young man in front of her with disbelief and heartache.
“My god…my child, you really…” She stretched out her hands shackled with fetters, “What did those inhuman old things do to you? You look so weak…”
Langmuir shook his head and said softly, “It’s nothing.”
…That day’s mind spell did indeed leave him with serious injuries.
He was not a good performer in the first place, and during this time, he suffered every torture from the elders. At least 80% of the pain and haggardness were the most real physical reactions.
But he held on every time. He didn’t lose himself, nor did he let go of the memories he shouldn’t forget.
How dare he let go.
Every time he was on the verge of collapse, he would see the scarred young Demon King, and those eyes full of wildness and defiance.
So Langmuir laughed a little and repeated, “It’s far from it.”
He knelt across from the old woman, straightened the fallen lamp, even though the flame had gone out.
“Please enlighten me.” The Son of God said.
The old woman sat on the straw and gathered her cloak, hoarsely saying, “No, I can’t enlighten you, Lord Son of God.”
“What I can do is to tell you a strange story that has been submerged in history…In fact, these years, my companions and I have been looking for people who are willing to listen to our stories, and this is also the reason why I am here.”
“I am willing to listen.”
The old woman laughed, “Lord Son of God, you must know first, I am a person possessed by a demon, a madwoman.”
“So, everything I’m going to tell you next, if you don’t want to believe it, you can just treat it as the nonsense of a madwoman.”
“This story happened a long, long time ago. Yes, probably about two hundred years ago…In the far north of the kingdom, there was a land called Gasuo.”
“At that time, Gasuo, although it could not be called a fertile land, was not barren; the people, although not all wealthy, were living a sufficiently well-off life.”
“Later…”
“Later?” Langmuir leaned forward.
The old woman was silent in the dark for a while, and said, “Later, a war broke out there.”
