Chapter 656: Heracles Who Cut the Line

The edge of that fissure was golden, light pouring out from within, cascading down, bathing the whole mountaintop in brightness like daytime.

In the depths of the fissure, the outlines of mountains and rivers could be vaguely seen, those outlines appearing and disappearing in the light, like a projection from another dimension.

"Oh dear..........."

The old man stared for a long time, then withdrew his gaze, lowered his head, and looked at the axe in his hand.

He turned the axe handle, rubbed his thumb on the blade, then lifted it before his eyes to examine it closely, as if inspecting a lost-and-found treasure.

He cracked a smile, turned his head, and looked at Yu Lin.

"Young man, this axe works great—lend it to me for a few days, I'll return it."

He slipped the axe onto his waist, the motion natural as if putting away his own belongings.

Then he turned and walked toward the cliff, his pace neither fast nor slow, stepping on the meadow.

He reached the cliff's edge, didn't stop, tipped his toes on the stone at the brink, leaned forward, and simply stepped off in free fall.

His robe billowed upward in the wind, his white hair and beard spreading out like a dandelion puff drifting down.

He vanished into the mist in the blink of an eye.

Yu Lin stood where he was, not trying to stop him.

He walked to the cliff's edge, lowered his head to look down, his eyes thoughtful.

The cloud layer was thick, obscuring the bottom; wind blew up from below, bringing a damp chill.

He stood a while, then turned and walked back to the forest clearing, sitting on the flat stone there.

Sunlight filtered through gaps in the canopy, casting a few tiny specks of light before his feet.

The wind rustled the treetops; far on the horizon, the fissure slowly closed, the golden light narrowing bit by bit until it became a thin line, flashed once, and vanished completely.

The sky returned to normal—same clouds, same blue.

Yu Lin sat on the mountaintop for a long time.

He thought of nothing, waited for nothing, just sat.

Emptying his mind felt very comfortable.

Until it was about time.

He stood up, brushed dust from his pants, and headed down the mountain.

The descent was easier than the ascent; the stone steps, bleached by the afternoon sun, occasionally saw a squirrel dart out from the bushes on either side, clutching a pinecone as it crossed the steps and vanished into the opposite shrubbery.

Yu Lin walked unhurriedly, but his steps never stopped.

He passed through the mist, which had already dissipated, leaving only a light dampness in the forest.

He walked past the steep stone steps, past the tourists resting midway.

Tourists sat by the road catching their breath—some fanned themselves, some drank water, some took off their shoes to rub their feet.

Seeing Yu Lin come down from the mountain, someone asked what was fun up there; Yu Lin replied the scenery was nice.

The person then asked how much farther; Yu Lin said it was almost there.

The person nodded and continued climbing up.

By the time Yu Lin reached the mountain base, it was already afternoon.

The sun hung high, a bit scorching, and most tourists had retreated to shady spots.

At the square below the mountain, a few parasols were set up, under which sat an ice‑pop vendor and resting tourists.

The tour bus was still parked in the lot; the driver had reclined the seats, covered his cap, and was sleeping.

Yu Lin walked along the road out of the scenic area, hailed a cab, and returned to the city.

The city's temperature was much higher than on the mountain, the air filled with car exhaust and the oily smoke from roadside barbecue stalls.

Yu Lin walked along the street, his gaze sweeping back and forth between the shops on either side.

He stopped at the entrance of a restaurant.

The restaurant was modest, its façade plain, with two blackboards by the door on which the day's specials were written in chalk.

Through the glass door one could see seven or eight tables of customers, mostly nearby office workers and local residents.

The air smelled of food—not the harsh sting of industrial seasoning, but the wholesome aroma of stir‑fried dishes and hot pots.

Yu Lin pushed the door open, found a window seat, and sat down.

The proprietress emerged from behind the counter, in her mid‑forties to fifties, hair tied back, wearing a floral apron, holding a pen and notebook.

She approached the table, opened her notebook, tapped the pen on the paper, and asked Yu Lin what he'd like to eat.

Yu Lin ordered three dishes, a bowl of soup, and a bowl of rice; the proprietress scribbled it down quickly and went into the kitchen.

From the kitchen came the sound of the stove igniting and a spatula striking an iron pot, cooking fumes drifting out the door gap and mingling with the dining hall.

Yu Lin leaned back in his chair, pulled out his phone, and casually scrolled through a few news items.

While waiting for the food, the restaurant door was pushed open.

A wave of sandalwood, cumin, and some indistinct spice surged in from the doorway, strong as a wall.

The two office workers seated at the doorway table frowned, lifted their water cups, and took a sip.

Yu Lin lifted his head.

Entering was an Indian man about forty, with dark brown skin, deep‑set facial features, thick brows, large eyes, and long lashes.

He wore a white linen kurta that fell to his knees, its collar and cuffs embroidered with golden patterns.

Below he had narrow trousers and brown leather sandals on his feet.

Around his neck hung a garland of red, yellow, and orange flowers, which contrasted vividly with his dark brown skin.

His hair was glossy black, neatly combed with a part from left to right.

On his forehead was a red dot, with a thin golden line running vertically through its center.

His gaze swept the restaurant—over the two‑person table by the door, the central four‑person table, the wall‑side booth—and finally came to rest on Yu Lin, who had his back to him.

He did not hesitate, and walked straight in that direction.

The proprietress poked her head out of the kitchen, still holding a dish.

She saw the Indian man and was stunned for a moment.

She wiped her hands, circled around behind the counter, and stepped forward:

"What do you want to eat? Can you speak English?"

The Indian man stopped, smiled, and answered in surprisingly fluent Xia Guo language, "No need, thank you, I'm here looking for someone."

His pronunciation was very standard.

The proprietress gave a small "oh", and carried the dish to another table.

The Indian man walked to Yu Lin's side, placed his hands together, bowed slightly, and performed a salute.

The movement was slow, the posture respectful, as if paying respects to a deity in a temple.

Yu Lin lifted his chin.

"Enough, stop this nonsense, sit down and talk."

"Yes." The Indian man nodded, pulled out the chair opposite Yu Lin, and sat down.

"I am sent by God King Yintuoluo, and would like to—"

The restaurant's door was pushed open again.

The newcomer walked hurriedly, his shoes clacking on the floor tiles with a thump‑thump‑thump, like someone hammering the floor.

The Indian man's words were cut off.

The newcomer took a few steps to the table, reached out and nudged the Indian man and his chair aside.

The chair the Indian man sat on was wooden, four‑legged, and was pushed so that it scraped a harsh screech across the floor, sliding half a meter to the side.

That person pulled the chair beside Yu Lin and plopped down.

"You all move back, Yu Lin, help me first."

The Indian man's eyebrows knit, and an unpleasant expression appeared on his face.

He looked at the burly man sitting next to Yu Lin, his gaze lingered a moment on that rugged face, and said:

"Heracles, I arrived first; let's just say who came first and who came later."

Heracles sneered:

"Yu Lin and I are good brothers, who are you?"

His voice was loud; the other diners at nearby tables turned their heads, glanced, then returned to their meals.

They paid him no mind at all.

Hmm, perhaps it was because Yu Lin acted first.

Heracles ignored the Indian man, turned his body, looked at Yu Lin, his arm propped on the table, leaning forward.

"Yu Lin, go to our place first. Right now Olympus is about to fall into a dimension, countless worlds, countless Olympuses, existing, non‑existing, past, future—all stacked on top of each other!"

"Here, this is for you."

He pulled out a sphere of light flashing with Thunder Light, holding it in his palm.

The sphere was small but blinding; Thunder Light crackled between Heracles' fingers like a beast trapped in a cage.

Its aura was fierce, volatile, exuding an undeniable authority!

The fish in Yu Lin's mind leapt out.

It shot from his forehead, traced an arc in the air, opened its mouth, and swallowed the sphere of Thunder Light in one gulp.

The Thunder Light flickered a few times inside the fish's mouth, then dimmed.

The fish swished its tail, swimming back to Yu Lin's forehead.

Text floated before Yu Lin's eyes.

【Mission: Help the four Great Creator Gods of Greece open up the world】

【Reward: Zeus Primordial Power】

Yu Lin stared at the line of text, then turned his head toward the Indian man and spread his hands.

"Sorry, Heracles is right; it's your turn next, line up."

The Indian man's lips moved, as if to say something, then swallowed it back.

He stood up, and his chair scraped another harsh sound on the floor tiles.

He performed another salute to Yu Lin, deeper than before, bending his waist lower.

"Then I will wait for your news; God King Yintuoluo said, no matter how long, he will wait."

He straightened up, turned toward the door and walked away.

Heracles leaned back against the chair back, sighing with satisfaction.

He reached for the water cup in front of Yu Lin, tipped his head back, drank it dry, set the cup down, and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.

Yu Lin looked at him, helplessly saying:

"This is mine."

"Hey, brother." Heracles grinned, took the menu from the table, flipped two pages, and shouted toward the kitchen:

"Proprietress, more dishes!"