CHAPTER 502: CHAPTER 432 DWARVES

Deep within the Celestial Kingdom.

The Great Angel, tasked with a mission, flicked his forked tongue, shimmering in the half-air, visible one moment and gone the next, exceedingly vigilant as he fixed his gaze ahead, his eyes revealing an elusive shadow of dark intent.

Before him stood Solamus, the Six-Winged.

He was not only the guardian of the northern reaches of Heaven but also the foremost of the Divine guardians of God’s Throne, a Millennium Prophet who had journeyed through the Mortal World. It could be said that in the realm above the Cloud Sea, apart from God himself, Solamus was the most esteemed.

Schiller envied the Angel Leader, sometimes to the point of madness.

This envy was not mitigated by the mission bestowed by God; on the contrary, it grew more intense.

However, in the presence of Solamus, Schiller managed to conceal the jealousy in his heart, displaying only vigilance on his face.

"Solamus, what brings you here?"

Schiller asked coldly.

Solamus looked around, seeing every inch of this space resembling that of Heaven, the same Cloud Sea, the same brilliance. The difference lay in the vacant spot where God’s Throne once stood, now utterly empty.

Above that empty space flitted beings with human heads and serpentine bodies. Solamus couldn’t help but show surprise; they were creatures he had never seen before.

"Are these... your creation?"

Solamus couldn’t help but ask.

The human-headed serpent creatures began to circle around the two Great Angels, their presence emanating goodness, gleefully spinning as if dancing without ceasing.

"Yes, they are called Rose Serpents."

Pride filtered through Schiller’s voice.

"How did you come up with that name? I see no connection between them and roses."

Solamus inquired curiously.

With a tilt of his head, Schiller feigned indifference:

"You wouldn’t understand the meaning behind it. On this matter, I don’t deign to enlighten you."

Solamus didn’t take offense at Schiller’s attitude, merely nodded and then said,

"Just now, you asked about my purpose here, did you not?"

Schiller nodded upon hearing this, somewhat uneasy, his handsome brows knit together slightly.

The Great Angel suspected that Solamus had come at God’s behest, to supervise his work.

Thinking this, for some reason, Schiller suddenly felt the anxious pang of a guilty conscience.

Fortunately, Solamus had not come to oversee his work.

"God has asked me to give this book to you."

Solamus raised his hand, and somehow, a pristine tome had appeared in his palm.

The tome was bound in sheepskin, its gold-embossed title on the cover was as beautiful as a painting, yet carried an essence of the mechanical.

Schiller took the book from God with great solemnity, flipping through the pages with curiosity. After a moment, his brow furrowed into a deep frown.

He tried his best to read the text; as a Great Angel, he was fluent in all languages of the world, even those that had become dead tongues. However, to his amazement, the characters on the pages were oddly shaped. He could only discern a slight resemblance to the current Dwarf languages in a few characters; apart from that, it was incomprehensible.

"God’s grace is always so wondrous."

Schiller said softly, praising God.

"You’re not saying that because you can’t understand it, are you?"

Solamus asked with a sudden sting.

Schiller’s expression stiffened, and a flush of shame washed over his face, revealing the inner thoughts that Solamus had mercilessly laid bare.

Amused, Solamus spoke slowly after a moment:

"This book is to be given to the Dwarves.

Schiller, God Will entrusted the mission to you, and you also have been tasked with deciding the fate of this book, to determine to which Dwarf it shall be handed."

The Great Angel came back to his senses and said sternly:

"I am well aware of God’s command.

As such, I do not intend to give this book to any specific individual.

You must understand, rain falls on the just and the unjust alike.

Just like the book, I shall toss it to the ground, and to whomever it falls, to him it shall be given."

Confronted with Schiller’s petulant-sounding words, Solamus was noncommittal, his duty merely to convey God’s words; the fate of the Mechanical Book was now left for Schiller to decide.

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

Mechanical Book.

Schiller had flipped through the content of the book in a short time; though he could not understand the text, he memorized every character in it as one would a drawing.

The detailed illustrations of mechanical structures contained within were also etched in his mind, not a single one omitted.

Afterward, the Great Angel no longer inquired into the origin of the tome, nor did he intend to treat it with formality; just as he had said before, he merely let it drift down from the Cloud Sea, to be fortuitously found by whomever it may.

It was like a pie falling from the sky.

The mortals below often say there is no such thing as a free lunch, but that’s merely a caution against the risks behind fortuitous deals; in reality, pies do fall from the sky now and then because, sometimes, some people’s luck is so incredibly sudden and inexplicable. Some are born into households of chimes and cauldrons, their noble status bestowed from birth - isn’t that, in another sense, a pie falling from the sky?

Schiller casually tossed the Mechanical Book down, and above the Cloud Sea, it plummeted into the mountains of the Dwarves, landing on an insignificant tree unnoticed by anyone.

And so... decades passed.

No one discovered that on a certain tree in the mountains lay a precious tome from the future.

The book contained techniques so advanced that even the most outstanding Dwarf Craftsmen of the present could not dare to imagine them; whosoever procured and deciphered it would be bestowed endless glory and riches.

But like a pearl covered in dust, without sufficient luck, it might remain undiscovered for a thousand years.

Yet some people, though born humble and lowly as ants, possess such luck; not enough to be born into the homes of chimes and cauldrons, but enough to wipe the dust from the pearl.

Vidor Wood Stone was one such youth.

He lived with the Wood Stone Clan, who made their living by felling forests; the clan’s name alone revealed their status within Dwarf society.

Dwarf society is a typical pyramidal structure where people differentiate their work and social status through their clan. Among the Dwarves, the most noble occupation belongs to craftsmen busy at the forge, with clan names accordingly linked to valuable minerals like gold, silver, and crystal. Conversely, the more mundane the clan’s name, the lower its standing, typified by common things such as Grass, Green Soil, and so forth.

The Dwarves are a race of born craftsmen, and such division of labor among the clans has led to exceptionally high efficiency in their societal operation. Yet, behind each person’s dedicated role lurks the unchanging divide of clan boundaries for a millennium.