The Epic Tale of Chaos vs Order

Chapter 2181: A simple life

Lurin was utterly absorbed in his work. His focus was so complete that even when someone appeared beside him, he did not notice.

"How are you doing?"

The voice was calm, warm, and familiar, and it pierced through the hum of concentration like sunlight cutting through mist.

Lurin froze for a heartbeat before slowly turning his head. His mind caught up with his senses, and then his heart nearly stopped. Standing beside him was the Scarlet King himself.

Instinct screamed at him to kneel. Centuries ago, they had trained together as brothers-in-arms, but that was long before Cain had ascended to the absolute peak, before he became the ruler of all existence, the number one life form in the Everstrife Empyrean World.

But before Lurin could move, a wave of golden radiance brushed through his mind. It was the gentle power of The Flow, seeping into his heart and soul, washing away awe and fear, leaving only clarity. In an instant, the godlike being before him no longer felt distant or divine. He was simply Cain again, the same man Lurin had once stood beside on blood-soaked fields.

Lurin exhaled softly and smiled. "Very well," he said, voice steady. "And you?"

Cain’s smile widened. "Better now."

The two men spoke easily after that, as if centuries of distance had melted away. They reminisced about their youth, the long nights at the military academy, the reckless battles. They compared how much the world had changed since then and how much, in truth, they themselves had not.

Lurin, being who he was, continued his work even as they talked. His mind handled multiple administrative channels while his voice held an easy rhythm. Cain found no offense in it. In fact, he was quietly pleased. Seeing how tirelessly his people labored, how seriously they took their duties, reminded him why he had built this empire in the first place.

Five days passed like that, simple, peaceful, and full of quiet understanding. Then, when their time together drew to an end, Cain extended his power to his old friend.

The power of Genetic Coding intertwined with the might of Tribulation Enhancement, weaving through Lurin’s body and soul. The air hummed with divine resonance as his talent refined, his bloodline strengthened, his mind expanded. When the process was done, Cain placed a hand on Lurin’s shoulder, pride glowing in his eyes.

"Good job," Cain said softly. There was no long speech nor grandeur, just two words, yet it meant the world.

Then, without fanfare, he rose into the sky, leaving the halls of Scarlet Light behind in a trail of shimmering gold.

Cain appeared next above a small, quiet town nestled between emerald hills. From a distance, it seemed like any other rural settlement, fields stretching in neat rows, the air thick with the scent of soil and sunlight. Yet one detail caught his attention immediately.

A man was working the fields by hand.

That, in itself, was unusual. In the Everstrife Empyrean World, even the most remote towns possessed advanced technologies that made manual labor unnecessary. But what made the scene truly remarkable was the man himself, his aura unmistakable even when suppressed. He was a Divine Ascension Master, a being of great strength, casually tilling the earth with simple tools.

Cain landed softly behind him, boots touching the soil without sound. "It’s been a long time, teacher," he said.

The man turned, and a broad, genuine smile spread across his weathered face. His eyes shone not with reverence or surprise, but with peace.

"It indeed has been," Jonathan replied, his voice warm and steady. "You’ve grown... more than I could have imagined."

This farmer was Jonathan, the one who protected Meylin when she had her identity as Beelze, a member of the Aegon Family, the one who taught Cain the basics of assassination.

He extended his hand, and Cain clasped it firmly. For a moment, the years fell away, and the king and the mentor stood simply as two old friends.

Jonathan turned back toward his field. "If you don’t mind," he said, lifting his farming tool, "I’d like to finish this row."

Cain chuckled lightly. "Of course." Then, tilting his head with curiosity, he asked, "But why work like this? You could command machines or use your own energy. What drives you to do it by hand?"

Jonathan’s only response was to offer Cain a second tool. "It’s easier to show you."

Cain accepted it without hesitation and began working beside him.

Some might have called it undignified, the ruler of the Scarlet Kingdom, whose power could shatter moons, bending his back to till the earth. But Cain didn’t care.

Farming was, after all, one of the oldest acts of humanity, the foundation upon which all civilization had been built. Long before they had learned to wield the elements or conquer the stars, humans had survived through labor and patience, by coaxing life from the soil.

His strength made the task effortless, but that wasn’t the point. As the rows of earth turned under his hands, a faint sense of accomplishment stirred within him. The simple rhythm of the work, the scrape of metal, the whisper of wind, the smell of fresh earth, brought a strange peace.

Jonathan watched him with quiet amusement, then spoke. "I lived a long life as an assassin. It was the path I chose, and I have no regrets. But after the Dark Sky War... I lost the taste for it. I no longer want to cultivate and reach for the stars."

He paused, looking at the horizon where the sun bathed the hills in red-gold light. "Now, I want to build. To work with my hands, to rest when the day ends. It’s a simple life, but a peaceful one."

Cain looked at his old mentor, then smiled. "It suits you."

Jonathan’s tranquility was genuine, his aura so steady it seemed to merge with the world around him. Cain could have easily helped him ascend further; with a touch of divine power, he could have reforged Jonathan’s talent and soul, allowing him to reach the Prima Deity Rank. But he didn’t offer, and Jonathan would not have accepted.

Some ascensions, Cain realized, were not meant to reach higher skies, but to sink deeper into peace.

So he stayed, working beside his teacher until the fields were done. Neither used their powers. They labored as ordinary men might, though their speed and endurance made the task light. And as the sun sank behind the mountains, the fields stood perfectly tilled, glistening with dew.

They sat together afterward, sharing a quiet moment of rest. Jonathan asked about the others, about Meylin. When Cain told him of her growth and achievements, a smile creased the old man’s face.

"I always saw her as a granddaughter," he murmured. "I’m glad she’s found her path."

The two men sat in silence for a long time, the air between them filled with the soft sounds of nature. For once, there were no wars, no divine trials, no politics, only the serenity of the earth and the satisfaction of a day’s honest work.

Cain spent five quiet days beside his old teacher, working the fields and sharing simple conversations. When the time came to part ways, Jonathan merely smiled, his weathered hands returning to the soil as if nothing had changed. Peace had become his cultivation.

Cain rose into the sky like a stream of light, crossing continents in a breath before appearing above a dark mountain range. His gaze sharpened. Below, a group of warriors moved through the mist with silent precision.

He could sense the Scarlet Leviathans embedded in their souls, and the restrained edge of killing intent flowing through their minds. They were waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

"In the name of the Scarlet King, surrender."

The command echoed through the mountains a heartbeat before the squad surged forward. The sound of battle followed, short, brutal, and efficient. Lightning-like bursts of energy illuminated the peaks, then faded into silence. When it was done, the team stood victorious, their enemies fallen.

From high above, Cain observed with quiet pride. The men they had slain were criminals, rogue cultivators who had rejected the Scarlet Path, seeking power through cruelty and chaos. His kingdom was a meritocracy where anyone could ascend through effort and will, but those who violated its laws paid the price.

The ones who died quickly were the fortunate ones. The truly wicked would be delivered to the Scarlet Throne, where their souls would find no peace.

"Good work," said the squad’s leader, his tone calm but firm. "Take the survivors to the city for questioning. I’ll stay behind in case any stragglers arrive."

The team nodded, gathering the unconscious and the fallen before vanishing into the haze. The leader remained, his senses stretched across the landscape, ready for anything.

Then the sky shifted.

A figure descended in silence, wrapped in scarlet light. The leader’s instincts flared; he clenched his fist, preparing to strike, until the newcomer’s face became clear.

"...Cain?"