Myth: The Ruler of Spirituality-Chapter 753 - 268: Patricide

Since the beginning of the world, humankind had witnessed four generations. Stay updated with novelbuddy

In the first generation, humans enjoyed the most perfect of gifts.

Star Dew from The Sky, Jade Liquid springing forth from The Earth, the blend of material and Spirituality, and the theology of All Gods, together forged the Golden Age.

Therefore, the Golden Generation, though not Undying, were born with Longevity. And although the conflicts among the Divine Blood made them lose some of the Demigods’ abilities, it also ensured the Golden Humanity had no ’source of bloodline’ existing.

For the brands of every Deity within the Divine Blood had been erased, leaving only the most pure and primal essence.

The second generation of humans still was born extraordinary.

Without the blessings of All Gods, without the gifts of all things natural, the power from several Primordial Gods still made them extraordinary by birth.

If it were not for the lack of a Transcendent path in that age, the Silver Generation might also have given rise to a strong wave of existence, or even the birth of some powerful Demigods.

Maybe this was the balance of fate: the first two generations of humans possessed the strongest talents but had no path to advance.

And precisely because of this transitional bestowal, their psyches suffered distortions in various directions.

By the time of the third generation, Bronze Humanity finally encountered extraordinary powers for the first time, but they no longer possessed the talents of their ancestors.

To them, the threshold of the Legendary was as hard as ascending to Heaven, and even until the flood that destroyed the world, not one true native fifth-tier Legendary had been born.

"But the fourth generation is different, you know. Personally, I prefer to call it the ’Heroic Age.’"

"Because the people of this age not only have an increasingly perfect path to transcendence but also possess remarkable talent, and such people are called Heroes by mortals."

The ’string’ of bloodline was held in the palm of Zeus, the initiator of the spread of Demigods, who easily grasped the chains within his hand.

Perhaps one day in the future, this offspring he had high hopes for would shatter it, but that was okay. Because before that, Zeus would find new shackles.

"This is the Demigod, marked by the Divine Blood within them, making the chains hard for mortals appear so effortless to them. However, every blessing of fate comes at a price, it’s both an aid and a constraint."

"When Demigods touch the domain of the Demigod, they either fully embrace the gift of their bloodline source or make a greater effort than ordinary people to try and rid themselves of this influence deep in their bones. Whichever choice they make, before this influence is peeled away, they are destined to be influenced by their ancestors."

"This is the ’Heroic Age,’ where every Hero is an outstanding Demigod, but their battles on the Earth are just an extension of the will of the Deities. Even if occasionally a few who see clearly are unwilling to rebel, it’s all in vain."

"After all, all things always chase profit, and nobody is certain at the beginning of their life that they can reach the summit. When the Divine Blood is laid out before them, who would refuse it?"

Nobody would refuse, at least Heracles did not. This Demigod of innate transcendence was able to strangle poisonous snakes at birth, which was a sign of his active Divine Blood.

So when Zeus sent the influence down the invisible string, there was hardly any obstacle in the middle.

Almost visibly, the tall youth clad in beast skins was momentarily dazed in the distance.

"Prepare yourself." Zeus said with a smile, "It’s about time for you to make an entrance."

...

Crack—

The whip swung, and beneath the Catairon Mountain, the young Heracles was driving his flock of sheep.

This was his daily work, and also a form of training unique to him. As for what specifically he was training... it was mainly to ensure the safety of the flock.

Only it wasn’t to prevent them from being eaten by wild animals, but to prevent himself from unintentionally killing them.

"Phew—"

"My strength has increased again, what a nuisance."

Leaning against a rock, Heracles took a deep breath.

Just this morning, he suddenly felt more energetic than before, but he did not find this to be a good thing.

Because the young man had gone through this more than once, this was predictably another growth in his strength.

From a young age, these sudden spikes in strength had occurred more than once. It brought Heracles quite a few benefits, but even more so, it brought trouble.

As an infant, he had unintentionally hurt a servant, and after learning to walk, he had more than once destroyed furniture and books.

In his youth, Heracles, in a subconscious retaliation against his tutor’s violent beating, hadn’t been able to control his own strength, resulting in the latter’s death on the spot.

Even though the courts later deemed the self-defense as not guilty, a justified response to a corrupt tutor, he was nevertheless sent to this remote place to tend sheep.

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To prevent similar incidents, Heracles’ mother assigned him a task to drive the flock with a whip but not to hurt the sheep.

To wound but not to kill is not difficult for most people; after all, it’s not easy to whip a large animal to death, but this was indeed a challenge for Heracles.

Especially after each increase in strength, he had to be extra cautious, fearing he might make a mistake again unintentionally.