Only God

On the third night, the Mercury Priests arrived at the residence of the guards, where Jon was finally captured and officially handed over to the Mercury Priests.

Not every rebel is sentenced to death.

The punishment for a rebel is determined by the specifics of their crime; however, since most rebels have committed serious crimes, such as murder, ordinary mortals believe that all rebels would die.

Jon thought he would be sentenced to death, but in the end, he escaped that fate.

The Mercury Priests hastily checked the local records and found that he had committed only two moderate crimes. Even with the addition of evading justice, increasing his culpability, it was not enough to warrant his execution.

Thus, Jon was sentenced to exile in the bitter cold lands, serving at the frontier fortresses and walls of his kingdom for thirty years.

To prevent the rebel from committing suicide through various means to seek release, the Mercury Priests not only placed a "suicide-prohibition" spell on him but also extended his lifespan by forty years through a ritual, ensuring he would complete his sentence. This showcased the determination of the Mercury Priests to root out rebels.

Soon after, Jon was taken to the frontier, his joy at having survived this ordeal surrounding him.

Even though he knew he was to guard the frontier for thirty years, the thought of being exonerated and free after thirty years, along with gaining an extra decade of life, filled him with hope.

Before reaching the border, Jon sometimes thought that the punishment of extending his life by forty years and exiling him to the frontier might be too lenient for a rebel.

Especially the additional forty years of life did not seem like a punishment at all but rather a reward.

Spending thirty years on the frontier, for nobles accustomed to a wealthy life with servants, might be an excruciating punishment. As the saying goes, it's easy to adapt from frugality to luxury but hard the other way around. However, having already been used to a life of poverty and wandering, being sent to the frontier was merely moving from one barren star to another.

No matter how impoverished the borderlands were, there was a limit—it was definitely better than a life of aimless wandering.

Jon was perplexed and troubled; hadn't this failed to achieve the goal of punishment?

Would those duty-bound, detached Mercury Priests truly be so kind to a rebel?

As he was being transported to the border, Jon oscillated between worry and relief. As snow began to appear throughout his journey, his worries inexplicably intensified—he always felt that there was more to it.

There is a saying: ominous premonitions are often accurate.

When Jon was finally taken to the far northern border, he finally understood what punishment awaited him.

His duty at the border was to serve as a sentinel at a watchtower.

The watchtower was not large, merely a few dozen square meters, resembling a stocky bunker hidden in the snowstorm. Every seven days, someone would deliver a week's worth of food and firewood for the sentinel's daily needs, and the sentinel had to light a beacon once every seven days to prove that he was still at his post.

The ceaseless snowstorms, harsh weather, and meager food were not the most severe punishments.

The heaviest punishment was...

That watchtower had only him.

Inside the watchtower, there were no books, no musical instruments—only training dummies, a heating stove, cold weapons, and a simple shrine. There was no form of entertainment, reminiscent of the Sighing Plains of Netherworld.

This was a prison belonging to one person.

Jon was stunned by the life in that watchtower, realizing that extending his lifespan was not a reward, and the Mercury Priests would not be so kind-hearted to a rebel.

The extension of his lifespan was solely for better punishment.

Despite being terrified, at this point, Jon had no choice but to accept this punishment. At first, he consoled himself, telling himself it was only thirty years to endure, just thirty years of solitude, as he had already grown accustomed to being alone.

And after getting out, he would even gain an extra ten years of life for free. How many wise kings in history had longed to live just ten more years, yet he easily obtained what they had dreamt of.

In the first month at the watchtower, Jon did quite well. He felt he had been overly worried before, as time passed faster than he had anticipated. The days flew by. Before long, thirty years would slip away in the blink of an eye.

During that period, although there was loneliness and boredom, Jon was quite good at entertaining himself. He had a vivid imagination and constantly concocted all sorts of bizarre stories in his mind. He believed that with his endless imagination, not to mention staying for thirty years, even three hundred years would be no problem.

Apart from imagining, he could also sharpen his body by practicing with wooden dummies. Every seven days, he could communicate with the people delivering supplies. In the snowy weather, he could even build snowmen... As long as he was content with his humble circumstances, there were countless ways to pass the time at the watchtower.

This feeling lasted for about three months.

After three months, loneliness gradually began to reveal its dreadful capability.

In the cold winds and snow, Jon often sat inside the house, staring blankly. Although he had also spent time daydreaming in the first month, it was only occasional. Most of the time, he was energetic, full of hope for the thirty years ahead.

But starting from the second month, the time he spent daydreaming became longer and more frequent. He gradually felt that time was passing more and more slowly.

He would sometimes climb to the highest point of the watchtower, looking out over the cold land. Amidst the icy snowscape, within a hundred miles all around, there was no sign of life—only trees laden with snow, devoid of any vitality.

Here, there was endless loneliness.

He tried to rally himself, blabbering madly in the wind and snow. He started to use pain to stimulate himself, inflicting wounds all over himself; however, there's a limit to both mad rambling and the piercing pain. By the sixth month, he was no longer talking to himself nor harming himself. His mind sometimes clear, sometimes chaotic.

Jon finally grasped what it meant to feel like days dragged on like years.

To get through the days faster, Jon could only spend his days in bed, sleeping fourteen hours at a time like some hibernating animals. Sure, he could sleep for fourteen hours, but what about the remaining ten torturous hours of the day?

A year had passed, and Jon finally wanted to die.

He gathered his courage to attempt suicide, but the Forbidden Curse cast by the Mercury Priests took effect; he could not kill himself no matter what method he tried. He could not even seek death!

Jon often wondered how solitary animals endured their long lives. Didn't they ever feel lonely?

He hoped to live like the animals, but he found he simply could not.

But humans are not animals; humans are rational, and much more so than animals.

This isolation and loneliness,

they are the pain of rationality.

While animals might also feel lonely, they can survive on instinct alone, not feeling the isolation that humans do.

He had tried to amuse himself, tried to spend the thirty years creating strange and marvelous stories in his mind.

Looking back now, all of this seemed so ridiculous.

Humans are limited,

the endlessness of imagination is nothing but an illusion,

limited things always run dry.

He had overestimated human imagination, as well as his own tolerance for loneliness.

By the spring of the second year, unable to endure the endless boredom and loneliness, he decided to escape from the watchtower. Even though he had no map and could not tell directions, and he really couldn't go far, he couldn't care less.

After hasty preparations, Jon escaped. As expected, just a month later, he was captured and brought back. The Mercury Priests had anticipated his escape and had set up tracking marks long ago.

After his captured escape, his punishment was made even stricter.

The Mercury Priests extended his lifespan by another ten years, allowing him to live fifty more years, while he would guard the watchtower for a total of forty years...