Today wasn't especially hot, and the breeze blowing from the vast Taihe Mountains felt surprisingly refreshing.
When Lin Tuo said those words, it was as if a subtle change occurred within him.
Am I a god?
It was a curious, and also very important, question.
Until recently, Lin Tuo hadn't truly considered it. But ever since he used the secret seal to hypnotize the entire continent, he had been forced to take the question seriously.
If divinity was defined by the power to create life, then he clearly was not a god.
Even if he had carved out a land where life could flourish, the evolution of living beings followed its own rules. At most, he could be likened to Pangu splitting the heavens, but certainly not to Nuwa, the creator of mankind.
If divinity was measured by sheer power, then to the beings of the sand table, he undoubtedly was one.
His breath was the storm; his cough, the thunder. With a mere thought, he could overturn the sand table world, destroy it entirely, and rebuild from the ashes.
But the real question was: how did he see himself?
That mattered most of all.
When wielding the secret seal, he had once mocked himself, claiming he was unlike the Mad Emperor—he wasn't a "mad god."
But the moment those words escaped, he realized the seal's side effects had already begun amplifying his hidden thoughts.
Only then did he notice—deep in his subconscious, he had already started to see himself as a god.
And that was dangerous.
He knew well his actual strength was no more than that of a martial arts master from television dramas. In the grander genres of xianxia or fantasy cultivation, he was barely at the starting line.
His awe-inspiring control over the sand table came entirely from the Evolution Sand Table, a mysterious artifact.
He was like a game administrator. Yes, he could use his privileges to decide the fates of characters within the game—but ultimately, he was just an ordinary person borrowing external power.
A true god would never build authority on something external.
That was like water without a source. Without clarity, it was easy to drown in the intoxicating illusion of domination.
Given time, even without the seal, Lin Tuo could end up becoming another Mad Emperor, and destroy himself.
There were too many such examples in the real world.
Every year, ordinary people suddenly rose to fame online—gaining, in days or months, the wealth and status most could never imagine in a lifetime.
And just as many quickly lost themselves, soaring only to burn out, falling to ruin as fast as they had risen.
Like meteors, dazzling briefly before vanishing into the void.
Gaining power overnight, and yet staying grounded—that was no easy feat.
For the sake of guiding civilization inside the sand table, Lin Tuo could impersonate a god when convenient.
But he knew clearly—he could never truly believe he was one.
Never wield power wantonly.
Or else, it wouldn't be long before his mind twisted and the backlash consumed him.
Perhaps… perhaps even bringing Huaxi into his world was, at some level, his subconscious attempt at reminding himself.
Every time he looked at her, he was reminded that the humans inside the sand table were no different from him. They weren't "ants," but living, breathing beings.
This thought would keep him from falling into the same madness as the Mad Emperor.
These reflections had lingered in his heart all along. Only now, facing Huaxi's question, did he speak them aloud with certainty.
And at that moment, as his words fell, his body grew faintly warm. A wisp of nearly invisible black energy seeped from him—and vanished.
His inner mind felt swept clean, clear and pristine once more.
For the first time, Lin Tuo felt his "state of mind" had quietly advanced.
"Ordinary?" Huaxi, of course, had no idea what had just happened within him.
She only tilted her head, puzzled, before looking him in the eye and saying earnestly:"You're not ordinary."
"Well… maybe not. It's complicated," Lin Tuo admitted with a small smile.
As they walked, he carefully laid out the explanation he had prepared.
He never mentioned the Evolution Sand Table.
Instead, he vaguely described it as an "ability" he had stumbled upon—one that let him traverse space and time, and exert some influence. An accident, but one that could be understood.
Huaxi listened quietly the whole time. Her eyes showed surprise, confusion, but in the end… trust.
Even if she didn't fully grasp the logic, she was certain of one thing: Lin Tuo, this so-called "god," was neither cruel nor evil. For her, that was enough.
"So you're a good god, then?" she teased.
"I told you, I'm not… Ah, whatever you want to think."
Without realizing, the invisible wall between them dissolved. Huaxi's gaze grew less reverent, more familiar, more warm.
"Alright, this is your room. Your clothes and bedding are here—settle yourself in, and get some sleep. Digest that feast. We'll talk about the rest tonight. I still have work to do."
Back at the Martial Hall, Lin Tuo set Huaxi up in the room beside his own.
He watched the girl lug her bags inside, her little stomach round from overeating, and chuckled before shaking his head and returning to the study.
In the study, he reabsorbed his avatar, then looked at the sand table in good spirits.
His eyes first fell on the "potted plant."
While walking Huaxi around town earlier, he had stolen a moment to "switch consciousness" back and feed the tiny world.
At first, he had considered tossing in something like a sausage or a potato.
Given the scale, either would feed them for ages.
But then he imagined the terrifying sight—an enormous sausage, vast as a mountain range, crashing down upon their land.
He shuddered at the thought. Too horrifying.
So instead, he chose breadcrumbs.
To the miniature world, they were still enormous—but at least within the bounds of reason.
Humans and carnivores could eat them. For the herbivores, he plucked a blade of grass from the courtyard and dropped it in.
He also added some water.
"Mm, looks pretty lively now."
Peering down at the flowerpot, his gaze swept across its divided sections.
Herbivores and carnivores alike gathered around the grass and crumbs to eat, or drank from the water, or dozed beneath the shade.
Some, full of energy, even sparred playfully.
Overall, peace prevailed.
"As it turns out, when food is plentiful, even simple-minded beasts aren't so savage," Lin Tuo mused.
Then he turned to the humans' section.
Unlike the beasts, they had already formed clusters under the three major factions, even beginning to use their salvaged tools to pitch tents and build order.
When feeding them, Lin Tuo had once more "posed" as a god, offering both warning and reassurance.
His message: settle here for now, cause no trouble.
He also permitted them to cut pieces from the giant "landscape tree" for firewood and shelter.
"Anyway, the thing's huge. Even a single strip of bark will last you ages."
Satisfied that the transfer land was stable, Lin Tuo exhaled and shifted his focus to Sandbox No. 1.
He had set time acceleration earlier. Now, hours later, the wasteland remained submerged in water—but the once-murky flood had cleared, now a brilliant blue.
The gloomy sky, too, had returned to clarity.
Operation Log:
Year 700 million… The flood scoured the world. Intelligent life migrated away. The world fell silent once more.
A long, long time passed. The radiation vanished. Pollution faded. With nature and time at work, the world returned to its primal state. The continent was drowned. Oceans ruled the land. It became a paradise for marine life.
"Marine life, huh?"
Lin Tuo skimmed the log without much surprise.
Land life had either been moved to the transfer land or drowned. Since he had filled it with fresh water, many mutated sea-creatures likely died as well.
But some life had survived.
Parting the clouds, Lin Tuo lowered his view to skim across the sea.
Inside Sandbox No. 1.
An endless ocean stretched in all directions.
The world brimmed with primordial energy.
Here and there, only a few mountain peaks jutted above the surface—but too little to nurture land life.
And yet, if one looked closely, one could see that on those high points—these "islands"—strange fish lay sprawled under the sun.
Lazy, basking.
Every so often, they rolled over.
Then, at that moment, the sky rippled.
A vast, formless face descended from above, blanketing the sea.
It noticed the bizarre fish clinging to the islands.
"Huh? What in the world are those?"
The immense, invisible face arched its brows, astonished.
(End of Chapter)