Priest Ethen looked at Samuel, as if he wanted to see what insight Samuel could articulate.
“Insight, huh.” Samuel leaned back slightly, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the slightly rough parchnt cover of the Harvest Scripture.
This Harvest Scripture was not especially deep or abstruse in its content.
Its core was rely an account of the origin of creation, interspersed with a few allegorical vignettes intended to illustrate the doctrine. The plots of those stories were mostly straightforward, not so baffling that one could not follow.
The stories were not actually difficult to understand, but Samuel still frowned as he read.
The wording was too convoluted. Even after reading once, Samuel felt the text was chewing on his tongue.
He had always assud that Western worldviews would not contain phrasing as awkward as classical literary Chinese.
But then again, this kingdom had a history of around two thousand years; the way people spoke in ancient tis was indeed different from now.
The existence of “archaic language” was reasonable.
In the first chapter of the scripture, the Book of Harvest, it was described like this:
In the beginning, heaven and earth had no form, the universe was a formless void. There were no sun, moon, nor distinctions of ti and space, nor day and night.
Only a tree stood within eternity, its roots piercing the abyss, its crown covering the eight extres. Unlimitedly vast and boundless, it had no end.
This tree was neither alive nor dead, it contained three manifestations: tender shoots newly sprouting, branches and leaves flourishing, and decayed wood returning to dust, all appearing in a single instant. Illusory things wandered upon it, transparent so that their essence could not be seen.
The tree bore fruit, and its fruit was like crystal jade, containing seeds of myriad generations.
A towering being ca forth from the chaos, a creator of things, who saw this fruit and paused there a mont.
The fruit saw the giant and sought to flee. The giant would not allow it to go.
He spoke:
[Let there be light.]
Thus, light arose, illuminating the great tree and the fruit within it, dispelling the darkness, leaving nowhere to hide.
The giant said with a smile:
[Good, this fruit is fated to be mine.]
So he reached out, plucked the sacred fruit, and ate it.
The fruit entered his belly, rging with the giant. The giant’s body transford into dispersed essence, and heaven and earth were thus separated:
His eyes beca the sun and the moon, governing day and night;
His blood surged as rivers and seas, moistening the dry land;
His hair and vines beca forests, where countless beasts took shelter;
His soul scattered into myriad beings, each according to its kind.
His mouth finally dispersed, and at the final mont uttered a true word.
Then he said:
[All things originate from one source, with no distinction of noble or humble.]
Thus it transford into truth, and with his thoughts wove the principles of heaven, hidden in wind and cloud, buried within thick earth, awaiting the wise heart to comprehend it.
Life evolved, and humans were born. Seeing heaven, they sought the Way; seeing sparks, they learned to make fire; noting the seasons, they plowed and sowed, becoming the foremost among all spirits.
The wise pondered this, excavating heavenly principles like miners, refining their essence into tal and stone, composing laws into codes and taking authority as a shepherd’s staff.
The wise devised thods to pass down the Way, teach the trade, and resolve doubts. Thinkers passed on their legacy, continuity unbroken.
After countless years, there were hundreds and thousands of thinkers, blooming together like a field of flowers.
At last one person took on the wisdom of the many as crown and summit, gathered truth into a holy throne, and built a temple to shelter the masses.
This person was beloved by the people, and being virtuous, was inscribed by the populace and thus nad and fad.
When the people were enlightened, the person left the hall and walked into the chaos, seeking the primordial tree.
Samuel was actually a little speechless when he reached this point.
That the mainstream church in the kingdom had propagated this for a thousand years, written in ancient Liastanian, Samuel could understand. But this thing had been produced less than a hundred years ago, and yet it was such a ss.
But after a mont’s thought, he relaxed.
Plain language lacks prestige.
There’s no core market competitiveness.
Actually it wasn’t that complicated; Samuel roughly understood the substance.
This is the truth of the world’s birth.
A person ate the fruit, then beca the world and birthed life.
That made it feel a bit underwhelming.
The fruit had been there already; he only ate the fruit, not a fruit he grew himself.
This world was not created ex nihilo by him; he rely used sothing to beco the world.
At least that’s how this scripture put it.
This was far from the omniscient, omnipotent deity Samuel had imagined. This “creator” seed more like soone who got lucky and found a powerful item or a thief who grabbed it, then beca the foundation of the world.
It even felt like he couldn’t boast properly.
Samuel inwardly mocked himself, then imdiately dismissed the flippant thought. Samuel didn’t know much about the mythologies of other extraordinary old organizations, but at least the account in this Harvest Scripture had a strange honesty. It didn’t embellish the creator’s omniscience or omnipotence, instead almost bluntly describing the “source” of His power.
That mysterious fruit.
Samuel wasn’t sure about other organizations, but that was how he interpreted this religion’s myth.
Could it be that this was just a historical record, written plainly because that’s how it happened without exaggeration?
Or was there sothing they feared?
Samuel thought of the ti he burned the king’s portrait and felt watched.
Might there be a possibility that a true higher existence cannot even be ntioned, not even hinted at, so this world’s god could only be portrayed at a lower rank?
What would happen if one ntioned it? Possession? Or be punished and shattered into fragnts?
The unntionable, the unhearable, the unthinkable…
Hmm… either it’s not Cthulhu, it's Little Red Potato.
While his thoughts wandered, Samuel’s mouth didn’t stay silent; he continued chatting with Priest Ethen, saying things with little substance.
“After the creator ate the fruit and birthed life, are we products of E. coli and parasites combined?” Samuel offered his insight.
Priest Ethen did not get angry, only replied gently, “I prefer to call it a new shoot sprouting from the soul.”
“Hmm, that sounds more poetic.” Samuel glanced at the crown atop Ethen’s head, planning to craft one of his own later, “But isn’t life supposed to be equal? Calling it a plant or E. coli seems the sa, right?”
“Of course the sa, but your emotion when you make the comnt is different.” Ethen answered with a smile. He could sense that Samuel had actually reached so understanding, but seeing Samuel deflect the topic with jokes, he had no intention of probing further.
Samuel smiled and didn’t intend to voice his true thoughts.
It was hard to say.
He did feel moved, but how should he express it?
Hey, I think your doctrine isn’t impressive enough. If I rewrote it, I could make it way cooler. I wouldn’t mind being a god for a while. In a few days I’ll build a church and see if I can attract so followers. If nobody believes, no problem—I'll just make a few clones later and believe in myself.
That was exactly what he thought. Whether it would draw attention or provoke attack from a higher existence—
He was actually looking forward to that.
User Comments
0 comments from readers