Chapter 197: Chapter 37 Script_2

The reason he had “coincidentally” chosen him before was that, in Laine’s perception, he was the one with the highest “aptitude” among the nearby humans. Yet even so, Kolon’s ability was actually quite limited, at least not sufficient to directly bear the power of a divine nature.

But now, from Laine’s detached perspective, he unexpectedly discovered that a connection of destiny had formed between Kolon and Ande at some point.

Although this connection was still weak, if nothing unexpected happened, as Laine gave Ande more “recompense,” the bond would become clearer.

“Destiny is indeed elusive,”

he said, shaking his head slightly. Although Laine could have solved this issue early on, he did nothing. By the day he left, Ande would no longer be the weak child he was today. By then, he could resolve the trouble on his own.

So from that day onward, Laine, having acquired the new identity of “Priest,” did not conceal his existence but openly started teaching Ande the knowledge of drama.

In this remote inner-village living area, the sudden appearance of a priest who did not stay in The Temple but instead lived in the homes of others was an abnormal situation. Yet, under the influence of the subtle manipulation of the mind, the nearby humans naturally accepted this fact.

They were just somewhat envious that a moment of kindness had brought Ande an unexpected gain.

But that was as far as it went. At that time, the meager spiritual and material life had not given Bronze Humanity a clear understanding of “class,” their envy towards Ande was mostly because he could engage with new things unfamiliar to ordinary people.

Compared to their monotonous lives, the novelty and adoration brought by these special skills were the sources of Humans’ desire for the “craftsman” class.

In this manner, more than twenty years passed in the blink of an eye.

…

“Good morning, it looks like this year’s harvest is quite good,”

“Yes, thanks to the creator’s blessing,”

…

Clothed in a hemp robe and walking on the cobblestone path, Ande, now a young man, greeted the familiar passersby.

Over the decades, the settlement of Bronze Humanity had been reconstructed multiple times, even splitting into several smaller outposts that occupied the more outer regions of the plain, and Ande had moved his home along with them.

Compared to the past, his new home’s neighborhood was busier by no small measure. Although it was still not at the heart of the tribe, it was no longer on the periphery.

After all, as a performer of “puppet shows,” Ande now held a modicum of Fame in the vicinity, to the point that even many nearby temple priests came all the way just to enjoy his performance.

Especially the opera “Titan War (Part I),” in which Ande used puppets to represent the gods, narrating the story of how the King of All Gods was born in a cave with help from destiny, secretly grew up, befriended various deities, and eventually, with the aid of the Ancient Gods, rescued his siblings – his performance was lifelike and convincing.

It must be said that despite significant deviations from the truth, it seemed quite believable at first glance.

Moreover, Humans of that time hadn’t experienced such epoch-crossing art; they were astonished, and Ande was consequently pursued as a celebrity, carrying the sense of being the first “star” of those early days.

Indeed, more than one priest who had seen Ande’s performance said they would report Ande’s existence to the High Priest of the Great Temple so he could present this play to the gods at the annual grand ceremony. However, for some reason, after they returned to their dwelling, they would inexplicably forget about this matter.

But that was of no consequence. After all, offering “dramatic performances to the gods” wasn’t something the priests were as enthusiastic about as they imagined; it was merely a way for them to showcase their “devotion.”

If they remembered, well and good; if not, it did not matter. Moreover, many priests felt the performing arts should be exclusively for their enjoyment.

Having what others didn’t have set them apart from ordinary people. Some even thought there should be deliberately established rules about what only priests could possess, that which others should not use casually, to reflect the nobility of those near the gods. Still, since the creator was indeed still around, in the end, no one brought this matter to light.

Ande knew about this, but to him, it didn’t much matter who the audience for his performances was.

“Uncle Kolon, good morning. I didn’t expect you to come back here today,”

As he turned a corner and nodded a greeting to a few more Bronze individuals, Ande unexpectedly saw his old neighbor. He paused briefly before cheerfully calling out a greeting.

It was quite a coincidence that, being “craftsmen” themselves, even after moving to a new place, they didn’t live too far apart from each other — they were just no longer neighbors.

“Hmph!”

However, faced with Ande’s enthusiasm, all he received in return was a cold snort.

Kolon gave Ande a chilly glance, his lips moved as if he had something to say, but eventually, he didn’t speak and turned his head to leave.

“Sigh,”

With a sigh, seeing this, Ande said no more; after all, it wasn’t just a day or two that Kolon had an issue with him.

Initially, there were just some disputes, but as Ande’s fame grew, Kolon’s resentment intensified.

Like how among priests, those responsible for the annual sacrifices in the Great Temple normally had higher status than others, and those serving the Divine King even more so, it was the same among craftsmen.

Seeing that because of a momentary choice he had missed out on a windfall, Kolon dared not lash out at the unfamiliar Priest, but that didn’t prevent him from targeting Ande.