Only God
Chapter 151 - 130: Why Believe?

Chapter 151: Chapter 130: Why Believe?

Noen stood on the ridge of the field.

His father had returned and was at the construction site, vigorously swinging the whip in his hand, lashing at the slaves who had slackened.

The slaves, also Stone Slaves, groaned incessantly as they dragged the stones, striving to construct a small temple for the Yibia family.

Two months later, there would be a major celebration, for which the Yibia family was determined to build a small temple dedicated to the Prophetic God Kagawus.

The so-called small temple was actually in comparison to the Great Temple in the Royal Capital.

Noen watched the Kagawus divine statues gradually stacking up, covered with the sweat and blood of the slaves; outside the temple, the priests caught a lamb that was gasping its last breath, its throat cut open and blood flowing all over the ground. They held bowls, filling them with the lamb’s blood.

The priests killed the lamb and then offered its blood to the great Prophetic God Kagawus.

Watching all this, Noen felt dizzy, perhaps because he was still too young, only thirteen or fourteen, and felt compassion for everything he saw.

The priests kneeled before the statue of Kagawus, then loudly scolded the slaves who were constructing the temple, and the old slave supervising the slaves cracked his whip with a snap, like a threatening boast.

The slaves familiar with Noen looked toward the boy in the field with pitiful eyes.

Noen shivered; he couldn’t stop his father from swinging the whip, just as he couldn’t stop the river from flowing backward.

After a while, the slaves disappointingly looked away,

"I can’t do anything."

Noen muttered to himself.

In the afternoon, a downpour started.

Noen’s father, the old slave loyal to the Yibia, braved the heavy rain, waving his whip, driving the slaves to work.

The timeframe was tight; if the temple was not built within two months, they would miss the celebration.

The old slave coughed loudly in the rain, lashing each slave, ignoring their bodies which were already weary and backs lacerated.

The slaves gritted their teeth and stiffly moved the stones, cooperating with the craftsmen to build the temple. Noen saw how the temple was slowly being constructed amidst the suffering of the Stone People.

As the evening approached, work finally paused temporarily, and the slaves finally got some rest, while the old slave and Noen returned to the Yibia family’s residence.

On the way back, the old slave continuously coughed.

Before entering the house, he glared fiercely at his own child.

"Noen, do not sympathize with those slaves! Isn’t your master worthy of your sympathy?"

Hearing this, Noen shivered.

His father had seen through his heart.

By the dim light of a clay lamp, Noen looked up at his father, the servant loyal to the Yibia father and son. His countenance appeared terrifying, like a tamed loyal eagle, delighting in hunting prey for its master.

Noen returned to his room. Both father and son had their rooms because of their loyalty and because they were highly regarded by the Yibia father and son, elevating their status far above the other slaves.

Lying in bed, Noen turned restlessly, unable to sleep, his mind full of the image of the priests killing the lamb and the sacrifice to the Prophetic God, a horrifying scene.

And those suffering slaves, like lambs slowly being killed.

Their sweat in building the temple was like the blood flowing from the lamb.

"I can’t do anything."

Noen once again muttered to himself.

.............

Nearly fifteen days of rushed work, the temple finally began to take shape. Prime Minister Yibia and his son Casas came to inspect the temple. They were very pleased with the scene before them, so Prime Minister Yibia granted all the slaves three days of rest and rewarded them with cloth and wine.

The slaves cheered, finally able to temporarily escape the harsh old slave.

Noen watched all this, genuinely happy for these Stone People.

The young boy enjoyed the three days off granted by his master, running to the dwelling place of the slaves, constructed from mud mixed with sand and stones.

As Noen entered, he witnessed a shocking scene.

The old priest from the abandoned temple was applying herbal medicine to each slave’s wounds, reciting a prayer with each application, and the slaves also recited along.

"God,

"May I grasp your hand?

Lead us into the miracle of life,

Allow us to listen to the holy voice,

Save us, do not lead us to perish.

Lord, I love you."

The slaves chanted in unison, reciting as if they were singing hymns and with a strange rhythm; the old priest quickly smeared their wounds amidst the singing.

Noen was stunned by this scene. He stood outside the door for a long time, hesitant to move.

Finally, the old priest noticed the young man and exclaimed in surprise,

"Noen?"

Noen came to his senses, momentarily uncomfortable.

"Come in, Noen."

The old priest stood up and pulled the young man inside.

The slaves looked at Noen with a hint of reproach in their eyes, seeming to blame him for not stopping his father’s whip. Nevertheless, they welcomed the young man warmly, crowding around him and striking up conversations eagerly.

As Noen interacted with each one, he occasionally glanced at the old priest, who was holding a scroll filled with various characters.

Noen didn’t know what the contents were; he couldn’t read.

"What were you all just singing?"

Noen asked, suddenly curious.

The old priest turned his face to him, a trace of pride twinkling in his eyes.

"That was a prayer I wrote, modeled after the text here."

Saying this, the old priest raised the sheepskin scroll he held.

Noen scratched his head and said,

"I can’t read, my master can."

Upon hearing this, the old priest said,

"This is the history of the Elves, do you know that? Those Elves who believe in the creator!"

Noen nodded, his curiosity about the sheepskin scroll growing.

"So the Elves have their own histories?"

Even though Noen had Elf blood, he knew little about the Elves.

"Of course, this scroll is the first history ever written, all our histories originate from the Elves!"

The old priest boasted somewhat as he showed Noen the sheepskin scroll, his face gleaming with happiness,

"Anything else you want to ask, Noen, just go ahead, child!"

Upon hearing this, Noen pondered for a while, then hesitated, and finally, he cautiously asked,

"Old Priest... you are a servant of the Prophetic God, yet why do you also believe in the Elf deity?"

Once he had asked, Noen somewhat regretted it; the question sounded a bit harsh.

Hearing Noen’s question, the old priest too was stunned.

His graying beard slightly trembled, and the third eye on his forehead shivered.

Seeing the old priest like this, Noen was about to say something.

However,

The old priest uttered a sentence.

A sentence that shook the soul,

"Because the one I loved has left this world."