Greece brings evildoers.

Chapter 682 Should we take a shower first, eat first, or...?
Jerusalem, south.

A majestic mountain called Zion stands tall, its ridges covered in verdant pines as if painted with ink, appearing and disappearing amidst swirling clouds and mist. Crystal-clear streams murmur through the mountains, splashing against pebbles and sending up tiny, sparkling droplets. Sheer cliffs, their reddish-brown rock layers gleaming metallically in the sunlight, contrast sharply with the shadows of the deep valleys. Occasionally, eagles soar across the clouds, adding a dynamic, rugged touch to the tranquil landscape. As dusk falls, the entire mountain is bathed in gold and red, resembling a sacred realm ablaze with flames.

A tall, slender figure stood on a wide mountain platform, opening his golden eyes and gazing into the distance.

Through a thin layer of chaotic mist, a vast expanse of blue and calm sea came into view.

Then came pristine white sand beaches with distinct grains, lush and verdant forests, undulating continental shelves, and towering human city-states.

These stacked elements come together to form a common name—the Age of Greek Gods.

"They'll be bordering each other so soon?"

A hint of worry flashed across Lorne's face as he muttered to himself.

As each generation of gods grows and expands, the chaotic zone, composed of irregular clumps of matter and disordered waves of magic, is shrinking day by day.

At this rate, it won't be long before the barriers between different eras of gods disappear, and collisions between different pantheons and civilizations are inevitable.

When the time comes, the smokescreen he left behind when he left may not be able to stop the spying of the various gods, and a great war will be inevitable.

We need to speed things up.

Just as Lorne was deep in thought, a graceful young woman walked up the winding stone steps behind him.

She wore a loose white robe, carried a woven wicker basket, and had strings of red agate beads woven into her slightly curled black hair, which tinkled softly with her movements. Her wheat-colored skin glowed with a honey-like luster, her thick eyelashes cast fan-shaped shadows on her eyelids, and her amber pupils, like jewels illuminated by the blazing sun, reflected both the wisdom of the wilderness and a gentle resilience—she was unmistakably a quintessential Canaanite beauty.
"It's time to eat, darling."

The beauty called softly, stepped forward, opened the basket, and placed the staple food, dishes, snacks, and wine inside onto the empty stone table in the center.

Whether intentionally or unintentionally, the beauty bent her waist extremely deeply every time she picked up or put down the food.

The plump, juicy fruits droop downwards, almost bending the branches, making one want to taste them.

Faced with such temptation, Lorne sighed helplessly:

"There are no outsiders here, Pandora..."

"The absence of outsiders doesn't mean the absence of outside gods. After all, we're on someone else's turf, so we should be careful in everything we do, don't you think, my dear husband?"

Pandora winked and chuckled, continuing with this little game that she found quite enjoyable.

The range of her body movements grew larger with each twist, and the view revealed beneath her white robe became more and more varied.

Lorne raised his hand to his forehead, secretly regretting his previous arrangements.

As the apparent leader of the Ming Canaanites, and given his advanced age, it was impossible for him to be alone.

In addition, to avoid attracting too much attention from the Persian gods, he also needed to reduce his public appearances and send a reliable messenger to travel around the city and gather intelligence on his behalf.

Therefore, Pandora naturally became his wife in name only.

Her name was Zipporah, the daughter of Jethro, a Canaanite priest. She met him in Midian, helped him escape from Egyptian pursuers, and together they accomplished the great feat of leading the Canaanites back to their homeland.

When Pandora first arrived in the Canaanite Age, she was relatively well-behaved. Every day, she followed her husband's instructions, settling the Babylonians who had disguised themselves as Canaanites, and carefully gathering intelligence in the city. Then, under the guise of delivering meals, she would go up Mount Zion to report to him.

But as time went on, the witch figured out his temper and her behavior gradually became more unrestrained.

In fact, when Pandora gets carried away, she might intentionally or unintentionally use her status as a wife to seduce her husband.

"Everything is ready. Would you like to eat first, then take a shower, or perhaps... me first?"

The witch plopped down on the empty space at the dining table, swaying her slender waist, licking her cherry lips with her pink tongue, and uttering ambiguous and teasing sounds.

Lorne raised his hand expressionlessly, and a cluster of blazing golden flames ignited in his palm.

Pandora's expression changed, and she scrambled off the table, immediately speaking seriously:
"Sir, I want to report this!"

"what's up?"

“That Cyrus gave us land to rebuild the holy city of Jerusalem, allocated funds to repair the temple, and even granted us tax exemptions. I always felt that he had ulterior motives!”

"Of course, he's waiting for the Persian Empire to sweep away the five great pantheons of Europe, so that we can become his pawns and help him conquer Egypt. Now, of course, we have to give him some sweet treats first."

Lorne answered in a deep voice, and the flame in his hand went out.

Sure enough, whenever serious matters were brought up, this boss would appropriately overlook some non-essential "minor issues."

Pandora secretly breathed a sigh of relief and continued the conversation, asking:

"Should we warn our people to be careful? After all, this is honey mixed with poison."

"No, we will eat as much as he gives us. Moreover, we will repay his kindness by publicizing his good deeds, writing his actions in copies of the Covenant, and writing poems and biographies for him, so that the Canaanites, Persians, and even Egyptians will know that it was this His Majesty who took us in."

Lorne answered in a deep voice, his face righteous and stern.

Historically, Cyrus the Great was highly regarded among the Jewish people. This was because he not only released the imprisoned Jews but also issued decrees granting them preferential treatment and helping them rebuild the Temple and Jerusalem.

Therefore, early Jewish communities revered Cyrus as a savior and frequently praised this Persian emperor. The Cyrus mentioned in the Book of Ezra in the Bible refers to Cyrus.

Moreover, these Jews were loyal allies of the Persian Empire's rulers during the Persian period, and they even supported a significant number of troops stationed there for Persia's later rule in Egypt.

Therefore, everything he did was simply continuing the trajectory of history.

However, Pandora did not believe that her boss was so kind.

She pondered for a moment, then, recalling the word "Egyptian" from her earlier words, she instantly realized:

"Are you trying to sow discord between Egypt and Persia, creating a rift between them, and thus planting a seed to break up the alliance?"

"Don't slander good people! We are merely praising His Majesty's benevolence."

Although Lorne's tone was innocent, the corners of his mouth couldn't help but curl up slightly.

Dark! Absolutely dark beyond belief!
While Pandora secretly grumbled to herself, she mentally gave her boss a thumbs up.

The Canaanites first exploited the Egyptians by using usury and gambling, and then the Canaanite gods wreaked havoc in the Egyptian pantheon, bringing down several calamities that caused many Egyptians to die or be injured.

Over time, the two sides developed a considerable grudge.

Cyrus, however, went to great lengths to take in the Canaanites and treated them exceptionally well. What did the Egyptians think when this news reached them?
The simplest outcome would inevitably be to incur the wrath and hostility of all Egyptians.

Even more seriously, some pharaohs might have worried that the Persians might use the Canaanites against them, and that this was a sign that the Persians were planning to attack them.

There was even a darker idea – was the Canaanites and Canaanite gods wreaking havoc on Egypt at the behest of the Persian gods?

After all, it was the great sage Zarwan who brought the Canaanites and Canaanite gods into Egypt.

But the Egyptians will probably never find the answer to this question.

Because the real Canaanites had long since died out, and the Canaanite gods who should have been in Egypt had also disappeared.

Without corroborating evidence, all the clues and doubts converged on the Persians.

So, whether they admit it or not, the blame will most likely fall on them.

Once the seeds of doubt are sown, it will be difficult for the relationship between the two parties to return to what it was before.

Pandora turned her head and stared at her boss:
"So, you planned all of this in advance: to bring calamities upon the Canaanite gods in Egypt, and then to make them all disappear just before they entered the Persian Empire?"

"Alright, let's eat first."

Lorne tapped the table and smiled, ending the conversation.

But the answer is self-evident.

Seemingly realizing the true nature of her boss's ruthless and heartless nature, Pandora ate her meal with great relish, trembling with fear that she would be punished for her earlier offense.

After they had eaten their fill, before Lorne could even speak, this usually lazy witch took the initiative to clear away the dishes and went into a cave behind the platform to make the bed for her boss.

Based on the belief that the more you do, the more mistakes you make, after securing land for the Babylonians, Lorne stopped living among these former subjects to avoid stirring up their past memories.

Therefore, under the pretext of seeking enlightenment, he climbed Mount Zion alone and began a life of seclusion.

This cave is his current residence. Usually, only Pandora takes care of it for him, taking the opportunity to deliver meals and information.

"Sir, the bed is ready. You may come in and rest now."

After tidying up inside and out, Pandora called out softly, showing none of her previous coquettishness and indulgence, as if she were truly a virtuous and dignified wife.

However, Lorne, standing outside the cave, shook his head:

"No need."

"?"

"The person I've been waiting for has arrived."

Lorne walked to the edge of the platform and gazed at the city of Jerusalem to the north of the foothills.

~~
The midday sun baked the gates of Jerusalem until they were scorching hot, and the customs post, inlaid with glazed bricks, reflected a blinding light.

Two squads of Persian soldiers stood lazily on either side of the city gate, looking at the merchants waiting to enter the city with a mocking gaze, as if they were looking at a flock of fat sheep about to be cooked.

The caravan leader, Abdul, clutched his faded customs document, dark brown sweat seeping from the edges of the parchment. Behind him, forty camels were laden with valuable bronzes and spices, each bundle stamped with the vermilion seals of tax collectors along the route—the distorted Persian script crawling across the tarpaulins like vampire bats.

He squeezed the already empty money pouch at his waist and prayed softly:
"The final hurdle, Mithra, protect me."

"The Persian gods will not protect us."

A calm voice came from behind.

The speaker was a young man from Central Asia dressed in a white robe. He was of medium build, with fair skin tinged with red, a broad and bright forehead, and thick, connected eyebrows. He had bright black eyes, long eyelashes, and a high, straight nose. His beard was thick but neatly trimmed, and his long, slightly wavy black hair reached his ears.

Coupled with his steady and powerful gait and his generous and proper demeanor, his every word and action unconsciously inspires trust.

"Emin, shut up!"

Abdul glared at his grandson, his face darkening as he reminded him,

"You dare to criticize even the gods? You're asking for it!"

"I'm just telling the truth. If the gods of Persia really had pity on us, the slaves of the empire, they would have already descended in their true form and burned these scum who suck the marrow from our bones at the city gate to ashes."

The young man answered calmly, his expression as composed as ever.

As an empire that originated from slavery, Persia naturally could not treat all the ethnic groups within its borders with favor.

Some can become masters, while others are only fit to be beasts.

Unfortunately, his people were at the bottom of the Persian Empire and were only fit to be exploited.

Therefore, he lacked reverence for those so-called Persian gods.

Of course, he didn't have much faith in the nature gods of his own people either.

Because they never have pity on people.

"What are you whispering about? Come over here and investigate!"

A burly tax collector emerged from the shade, his gold chain jingling under the weight of his uniform.

“Yes, sir, we’re coming right away.” Abdul hurriedly nodded and bowed in response, and beckoned the camel caravan forward.

The tax collector scanned the camel caravan and then patted one of the packages.

"The Empire's new decree," he read deliberately in Old Persian to ensure these foreigners couldn't understand, "an additional 30% tariff will be imposed on Damascus bronze."

Twelve Persian guards armed with spears immediately surrounded the camel caravan, their spear tips pressed against the copper pots wrapped in palm leaves.

“We have already paid the transit tax in Babylon, sir,” the young man stepped forward and replied in equally fluent Old Persian.

Before he could finish speaking, the tax collector's face darkened, and he pressed the copper ruler against the young man's throat:
"Fool! This is a local Persian tax. In this new place, there's an extra two silver coins charged per package. That's the new rule!"

"His Majesty Cyrus's newly promulgated Tax Law for All Nations does not contain this rule."

The young man remained calm in the face of danger and wanted to fight back with his strength.

The tax collector's face turned ashen, and he grabbed the young man by the collar:

"Are you trying to evade taxes?"

A foul gust of wind wafted by, and the rice merchant in the wooden cage raised his festering eyelids and began to mumble incoherently.

His tongue had been cut in half because he couldn't pay his taxes.

The young man pursed his lips and said in a deep voice:

"We just want your leniency, sir. If you collect the money this way, we will not only not make a profit on this business trip, but we will also have to lose money."

"You lowly creatures, like pigs and dogs, dare to try and bargain with me?"

The tax collector sneered, raised his copper ruler, and viciously struck the young man's head.

"May the true God Ahura bless you!" Abdul suddenly shouted, pulling a bulging linen bag from his inner robe.

"The child is just being childish, please don't take it to heart, sir," the old man said, gesturing with his arm.

The linen bag then disappeared into the tax collector's large sleeves.

The clanging of metal made the tax collector squint; it was the deep, resonant sound characteristic of Lydian gold coins.

The copper ruler paused, then pointed to the end of the line: "Those two packages of goods without the Armenian tax stamp, according to His Majesty Darius's latest decree..."

"Confiscate it, it should be confiscated! Let you and all the officials have a good look at it!" the old man hurriedly replied, bowing low.

Even before the guards could do anything, he had his entourage unload the packages and deliver them to the shady spot where the tax collectors and guards were resting.

Seeing that the old man was so sensible, the tax collector lost his pretext for making trouble and waved his hand impatiently:
"get out!"

The old man felt as if he had been granted a pardon and quickly led the caravan into the city.

As the sun set, the young man turned to look at the wooden cage at the city gate.

After a whole day of exhaustion, he was unconscious and most likely wouldn't make it through the night.

In the shadows of the city gate, an elderly man with a cane, blind in both eyes, chuckled helplessly.
"What belongs to the king belongs to the king, and what belongs to the tax collector .... There's nothing we can do about it; that's just the rule of the empire."

"And what about the people of the empire?"

Everything has a price.

"?"

"You are the price to pay."

The young man remained silent for a long time before saying in a deep voice:

"The world shouldn't be like this."

"Perhaps, but you'll have to find the answer yourself."

The old man's empty eye sockets turned south, where the setting sun, like blood, was painting the distant Zion Mountains.
The young man's body trembled, as if he had sensed some kind of guidance from the unseen world.

It seemed that the answer he was looking for was right there.

~~
Late at night, on Mount Zion.

The young man, who had been harassed when he entered the city during the day, followed the call in his heart and climbed to the front of a cave.

Under the bright moonlight, an old man in white robes stood outside the cave, leaning on his cane, seemingly having been waiting for a long time.

The young man, inspired by a sudden inspiration, respectfully bowed:
"Sir, I salute you and hope you can answer my questions. You may call me Emin (the Honest and Reliable One, a title of a prophet)."

(End of this chapter)