Chapter 93 Death The city was quite different from what he remembered.
It was still bustling, but visually it had a vibrant, fresh green hue.
He saw a woman, having finished drawing water, tiptoeing as she trimmed the leaves of the ivy.
It was an incredibly resilient plant; with just a little moisture, it could climb from the corner of a wall to every corner of a house.
In the past, people would snatch away the roots as soon as the leaves sprouted to prevent its excessive spread. Now, however, they clearly treated it as decoration, letting it climb to the rooftops, only trimming a few tendrils under the eaves, the rest becoming natural shade.
The city lord's mansion was also very different from what he remembered.
"We've expanded the whole place,"
Enoch stopped, looking at the emblem above the mansion gate.
It was a golden falcon with outstretched claws.
Like the emblem above the flags outside the city gates, this hadn't been there before.
There were no inherent enemies among humans; war erupted the moment the first flag appeared.
The flag symbolized division and resistance. When the Ancestor was alive, he never created his own symbol, for all people were his subjects, and no one would deny this.
But when Enoch first took office, the old-school elders proposed creating a flag to intimidate the surrounding lands.
"Adam City is the authority of humanity. When the Ancestor was alive, perhaps it didn't need a symbol to unite people like other small cities. But times have changed…"
The elders had a point, but Enoch still rejected their suggestion.
"That's not for the benefit of all humanity, but for the benefit of the ruler himself. I will never allow my own interests to supersede those of the people; that's the act of tyranny, contrary to the Ancestor's original intention in governing the world."
These were Enoch's words from the past, but now, looking at the hawk atop the city lord's mansion, he showed little reaction.
"It looks quite imposing," Enoch remarked.
Yare felt uneasy; he hesitated, sensing something was amiss.
In the drawing room, the wooden chair passed down from the time of the ancestors was gone, replaced by an intricately carved, gilded throne.
The carpet was vibrant, the wall hangings brightly colored, and the room was filled with the sweet fragrance of incense.
Everything here was different from when Enoch was here.
"It looks quite nice."
"You really think so?" Yare looked at him, his astonishment barely concealed.
"Shouldn't you be saying something like, 'Power relies on this, and the desire for dominance will gradually swell'?"
"What are you saying?" Enoch chuckled. "I'm not the devil."
"People's appreciation of beauty often comes from leisure time and a stable, prosperous life. Seeing the people living happily, I'm overjoyed, why would I say such things?"
"Moreover, if you have always acted with such caution, I believe this city will be worry-free under your rule."
Jale was visibly pleased to receive his son's approval.
"This is all thanks to Lamech; I dare say his wit is no less than yours."
Methuselah was already three hundred years old. He wasn't particularly capable, nor did he stand out among his nephews and nieces. It was Methuselah's son who, however, possessed considerable political acumen.
Enoch glanced at his grandson, surprised that they would name him Lamech.
He inquired about the first Lamech, the descendant of Cain, the 'enemy of his life' whom he had defeated and imprisoned.
"He fled the year after you left. We sent three hundred soldiers to guard him, but we still couldn't keep an eye on him. I don't know how he did it."
"The following year, he led his army to invade our city. I must say, he caused us a great deal of trouble for the past hundred years."
"That scoundrel is utterly wicked. Unable to break in, he kept causing trouble around the city, so I wanted to set an example for him," Jared rambled on, leaning on his cane. "I named the son Methuselah bore him Lamech."
"Our little Lamech is truly his nemesis. He helped us defeat that city many times."
The over-a-hundred-year-old 'little' Lamech, with his platinum-blonde hair, gave a shy smile when his grandfather looked at him.
Jared patted his pleasing face, clearly showing his great affection for his great-grandson.
"It's good you're back. All these things are yours to do now. The three of us—one is deaf and blind, one is shy and reserved, and the other is young—were all like this," he said in a booming voice, cheerfully. "Now that you're back, don't exploit us anymore."
"I'm sorry, Father," Enoch's lips moved slightly.
"I'm afraid I can't."
"What did you say!" Yare, who considered himself 'deaf and blind,' glared at him. "What do you mean by that?"
Enoch quietly looked at his no-longer-young father. Yare always said he didn't understand Enoch, but in fact, he noticed the changes in his son before anyone else.
Tears welled up in his eyes.
"I don't want you to be some kind of king, nor do I want you to achieve anything."
"How much time do you spend with me and your mother?" he said, noticing the attendant standing hesitantly at the door, unsure whether to go in.
"What's going on outside?" he asked, seemingly suppressing his anger.
Lamay glanced at his father, who was clearly out of sorts, and his grandfather, who seemed to be arguing with his great-grandfather. Helpless, he finally left.
After a while, he returned and said,
"Great-grandmother heard that Grandpa was back and was extremely anxious. She insisted on seeing him."
"Tell her not to come in!" Yare shouted.
The atmosphere among the men in the room became tense for a moment. Finally, Enoch spoke first, gently addressing Lamay.
"I've had a long and tiring journey, and I'm afraid Mother won't feel comfortable seeing me like this. Go and tell her that I'll visit her myself after I've washed away the dust of my journey."
Lamay then withdrew.
"What's there to see her about?" Yare retorted sarcastically. In his youth, he had been quiet and reserved; in his old age, he had become like a child, speaking his mind freely.
"Even if we die, it's none of your business," he said resentfully. "But I pity my grandson, your son, Methuselah, who was left by you right after birth…"
Three hundred years ago, he had said the same words, and who would have thought they would become a prophecy?
If a child is not cared for, it is the father's fault.
If parents are not served, the child is unfilial.
He had the best parents in the world; they loved him, understood him, and supported him unconditionally.
But in this world, the only people he had wronged were them.
"Father," Enoch embraced him.
"It's as if from the day I was born, I've been waiting to meet Him."
"Will He love you?"
"God loves the world."
"Then it's not necessarily you!" Jared paced anxiously. He was an ordinary, common, worldly man, and thus questioned fate in his heart.
Why did they have to choose their child? Why did it have to be his Enoch—but he remembered that even the name Enoch was originally given by God. All his emotions vanished, and he suddenly lost all strength to question.
"Will you die?" he asked.
"I don't know. The only thing I'm sure of is that I'm happy."
The old man fell silent. Enoch released him and looked at his son.
Perhaps he wanted some peace and quiet, or perhaps he felt from his own experience that every father and son should have ample time to communicate.
Jare went outside, giving the space to the father and son who were meeting for the first time.
Methuselah was very much like him, quiet and reserved. Even though his child was already a hundred years old, he was still as awkward as a child in his father's presence.
'Enoch, will you love him?' Edna had asked him, holding his hand, before giving birth.
'Love, of course I love him.'
'Even if he wasn't born brave, you would still love him?'
'Even if his wisdom isn't exceptional?'
From that moment on, he knew that God had given them an ordinary child.
Now the child stood not far away, his eyes shining with a strange yet yearning light.
Enoch suddenly realized this was the best gift God had given them.
He didn't have to bear so much, didn't have to understand so much; he could live a peaceful, healthy, and joyful life.
So he smiled, a happy and content smile.
"Methuselah, my son,"
Enoch called him over and asked him about his life over the years.
Methuselah was a little nervous, as if it were the first time someone had spoken to him so patiently and kindly.
This was his father, a wise man among men; he seemed to see right through him. Before him, there was no need to hide, no need to be speechless.
He wouldn't scold you for being dull, he wouldn't show disappointment; his eyes were full of love. He would tell you about the little things he had encountered on his long journey.
The gap of hundreds of years seemed to be filled in the storytelling. This was the first warm night between father and son, and Methuselah knew his father's story was far from over.
From the next day onward, Enoch declined all visitors and devoted himself to his study.
Every evening thereafter, Methuselah stayed with him. He knew his father was writing a book, the contents of which he found difficult to understand, even though Enoch would sometimes write it down and explain it to him.
"This is what I have seen and heard along my journey; perhaps it will be helpful to those who come after."
The wise man compiled his life's experiences into a book, which later became known as the Book of Enoch.
It contains calendars from heaven, knowledge of agriculture and forestry, history from ancient times to the present, and prophecies that Enoch received from the three doors, which he cleverly presented in the form of laws, admonishing humanity to do good.
Finally, when everything was settled, he summoned all his family members.
They sensed something was amiss, and their faces showed unease.
As expected, Enoch bid them farewell.
Methuselah wept the most bitterly. He had lost his mother at a young age, and later his father disappeared without a trace; their reunion was a separation.
"Do not grieve, my child," said Enoch's gentle son.
"Your mother and I," he paused, "will always watch over you."
He looked at his parents and relatives.
"Of all things in the world, only sin must not be tainted. You may be poor, you may be destitute, you may go hungry and cold, but you must not be unrighteous. Wherever and whenever you are, help and treat others with kindness, even if they are strangers."
"If he has not harmed you, then love him. Only by keeping this law will you be a descendant whom I, Enoch, will remember."
Having said this, he did not hesitate any longer and resumed his journey.
This time, he came to the legendary holy land, Mount Sinai.
The angels had said they came from Horeb, in the far south.
Horeb, also known as Sinai, was once the land of the elves.
He knew that the Creator revealed His glory day and night, but as Ashtorius said, the glory of creation is ultimately not the Creator Himself; those who search for God's presence will inevitably become lost.
But this time, when he looked upon all that God had created, he was no longer confused.
God had seen his eyes; he no longer needed to search for traces of God's existence through the sun, moon, stars, mountains, rivers, and seas.
What he saw was not merely trees, flowers, and birds in the air, nor merely beasts and fish, nor even humankind created in God's image.
He saw a light; God was here waiting for him.
"Are you ready, Enoch?"
How could he not be ready?
From the age of sixty-five until now, exactly three hundred years had passed. In these three hundred years, he had walked with God, witnessing the world's splendor and ugliness, and he had no regrets.
He nodded, preparing to face death.
"Therefore, I appoint you as the head of Mercury, and bestow upon you the position of chief of the Archangels. Are you willing?"
Enoch was somewhat stunned. "You mean I will govern the Archangels after I die?"
"Why die?" God seemed quite puzzled as he looked at him.
Because mortals can hardly stand in Heaven.
"That applies to 'humans'," God laughed. "You have already surpassed ordinary people."
You provide the great god Twilight's [Hebrew Mythology] a story of the arduous formation of a world.