Chapter 104 The Turmoil
Nimrod built an observation deck in front of the Tower of Babel, and that night, he and the three kings entered it.
Abram had received advance notice and met with a foreman, saying he wanted to see the tower up close, just like King Nimrod.
He was a well-known merchant in the city, and many had benefited from his generosity. Therefore, the foreman hesitated slightly but didn't make things too difficult for him and let him in.
"The king is on the observation deck. Don't disturb them, or we'll all be in trouble."
"I know," Abram smiled, slipping him a large piece of gold, and successfully entered the construction site of the Tower of Babel.
Once inside, his smile vanished. He was taken into the palace and never came out again. Abram was very worried about his safety.
To avoid attracting attention, he only had Eliezer with him, his loyal servant carefully observing their surroundings.
This vast construction site, stretching to the horizon, housed hundreds of thousands of people, mostly slaves. They laboriously climbed the tower, carrying stones, while numerous craftsmen with blueprints surrounded them, frequently moving between the various levels of the foundation to discuss construction details.
The craftsmen of Nimrod were the finest in the land. They had once built an incredible city on this muddy plain, and now they were to bring this miracle to the heavens. If anyone other than Nimrod cared most for this tower, it was none other than these workers, their craftsmen burning with dedication.
Elizezer took in everything on the construction site, then looked at his worried master.
"My lord is over there," Eliezer pointed in a direction, and Abram followed his gaze to the observation deck.
The magnificent pavilions and towers seemed insignificant beneath the Tower of Babel, yet their height remained beyond human reach.
They certainly couldn't enter the observation deck through normal channels; if they wanted to know what was happening up there, the Tower of Babel became the best option.
Abram and Eliezer exchanged a glance. They tacitly found a corner, removed their expensive robes, and disguised themselves as craftsmen, sneaking in. They boarded a gondola and ascended to the fifth floor, roughly the same height as the observation deck.
There were several hundred craftsmen and slaves on each floor of the tower, coming and going frequently. The craftsmen, far from the ground, were engrossed in their work and didn't have much free time. The two jumped into the tower from the gondola without attracting any attention.
They earnestly lifted a stone brick and walked towards the edge. Abram, with a clear goal in mind, headed straight for the tower window towards the observation deck.
What he saw ignited his anger, and the brick crashed to the ground.
He saw Nimrod humiliating his father. Fortunately, Eliezer grabbed his shoulder, bringing him back to his senses.
"Hey!" A foreman, hearing the commotion, frowned and looked over.
"I'm sorry, we'll be careful!" Elilizier apologized first, and seeing his positive attitude, the overseer said nothing more.
'What should I do?' Abram braced himself against the tower, forcing himself to calm down.
'I expected this to happen, but I never imagined Nimrod would be so heartless.'
'I must bring my father out.'
He didn't trust Nimrod, didn't believe that King Shinar would release him safely back to Ur after humiliating Tharah like this.
'If we really take action, we'll have to give up Ur…' He thought of all this in an instant, his eyes filled with deeper anguish and conflict. Just then, he noticed many points of light appearing in the dark plain below.
Like fireflies on a summer night, they floated closer, but from his height, he couldn't possibly see them as fireflies.
"What are those?" he asked the servant beside him.
"Torchlight," Eliezer recognized. "A large crowd is approaching."
The commotion below the tower quickly attracted the attention of the others on this level. The overseer went to Abram and peered out.
"What are they shouting?"
"Long live the Tower of Babel! Long live King Nimrod!"
A thunderous roar erupted below. The workers dropped their work and gathered together, staring in astonishment at the throng of people below. One of the craftsmen, with dark skin, spoke.
"This is the first time I've seen anything like it," he said. "I once built a tower for the king of Egypt; that was a project involving hundreds of thousands of people."
"The king of Egypt?" The people of the plains had never heard of this place and asked in bewilderment.
"Yes, Egypt. I dare say the Nile is the longest river in the world! Its water is clearer than your Euphrates! It is incredibly vibrant; that fertile black soil owes its nourishment to it." The craftsman's expression was filled with nostalgia as he described the prosperity of his homeland in simple yet moving language.
Abundant food, vast land, and the ruler of this land.
"We call him Pharaoh. He worshipped the sun like King Nimrod, but in Egypt, we only worship the sun," the craftsman said.
"That tower was the Pharaoh's private property; no one else cared about its completion except the Pharaoh himself."
"At the time, all we could think about was how to successfully build those enormous stones. It was exhausting."
"Of course," the foreman proudly raised his chin. He was the son of one of King Nimrod's ministers, deeply indoctrinated by royal power.
"No tower can compare to our Tower of Babel!"
"But what were the towers in Egypt used for?" the foreman asked curiously, turning back after his boastful display.
"When the Sun King completes his reign, he will sleep in the tower until the next life," the craftsman recited earnestly, mimicking the tone of a pharaoh's priest.
"King Nimrod is the true son of the sun!" the overseer said disapprovingly. "He is not only the son of the sun, but also the son of the moon!"
"Moreover, our tower is not meant to be a tomb! The king will lead us to open the gates to the heavenly city!"
The craftsman didn't argue with the overseer. Building a tomb for the pharaoh inevitably meant being sacrificed, so he ran away before completion, without revealing this fact.
"That's why I say no building has ever received such attention."
"If it succeeds, we will all be remembered in history."
The craftsman's words undoubtedly stirred the passion of everyone present. They returned to their positions and continued working.
"Foundation—"
"Load-bearing—"
"Longitudinal beams—"
"Transverse beams—"
They were overflowing with enthusiasm. Anyone only needed to make a suggestion, and their colleagues would know which type of stone they needed and present it. They carried out each step quickly and in perfect harmony, their efficiency many times greater than before.
Abram, who had just been immersed in the craftsman's description of the magnificent Egyptian city, suddenly returned to reality, feeling rather uneasy.
Was there no way to stop Nimrod's arrogant arrogance?
Just as he was thinking this, a discordant murmur suddenly arose among the craftsmen who had been working together wholeheartedly for their place in history.
"***?"
"No, I want ****"
Abram circled around and suddenly realized he couldn't understand their language anymore. Not only could they not understand each other, but the craftsmen couldn't understand one another either.
Panic spread instantly. The overseer, seeing them like a flock of sheep out of control, not working properly but instead making incoherent noises, became furious.
However, even his scolding was now uncomprehending.
"What's going on?!" Taking advantage of a moment when no one was looking, Abram jumped onto a hanging basket and ran down, only to find the situation below just as chaotic as above.
"Young Master Abram!"
The young man who had come to Ninglu City with him spotted the chieftain's son and rushed over.
"What happened?"
"I don't know, it just suddenly happened like this, we can't understand those people," one of the young men said.
But the young men of his tribe could still understand each other. Abram fell into deep thought. He realized that those speaking unintelligible languages were from other places. "Then Eliezer…" He slapped his forehead, realizing he had forgotten his servant.
"Here I am, master," Eliezer, who had been following Abram, appeared as he looked for him.
"Thankfully, I can still understand you," Abram breathed a sigh of relief.
"Of course, I should speak the same language as those from Damascus," Eliezer said, "but I will never allow myself to utter a word you cannot understand."
"Wait, you mean you learned it recently?" Abram looked at him in surprise.
"I can't say I learned it recently, because your voice has been deeply imprinted in my mind since the first time we met," Eliezer shook his head, "It is only natural that I can understand your words."
That still meant he had learned it recently. Abram looked at his young servant, moved by his quick wit and loyalty.
'We are about the same age; if I hadn't intended to adopt Lot, it would have been nice to have Eliezer as my son.' He thought this, then quickly dismissed the idea. Eliezer's exception gave him hope. He pointed in the direction of the Shinarites and asked,
"Can you speak their language?"
Eliezer nodded, and Abram was overjoyed.
"That's wonderful..."
Abram learned the language of the Shinarites from Eliezer, then ordered the hundred Ur men on the construction site to disperse.
"Remember, you only need to shout one sentence."
Different languages increased the chaos of the world, but the same language also increased the cohesion and sense of belonging among Abram's people. They obeyed Abram's commands without question.
At his command, they ran about in their newly learned Shinarese.
"Nimrod is wicked; this is divine punishment!!" Abram shouted from the observation deck. Nimrod was heard furious on the deck, and chaos ensued.
Abram took advantage of the chaos to sneak onto the observation deck and found him. "Abram?!" He pulled at his son, holding the golden jug, in shock.
"How could they do this to you?" Abram's eyes welled with tears, and he and his son, Terah, prepared to leave.
"I can't go… We've come this far, how can we give up halfway?" Terah initially refused to leave.
Because if he did, all the humiliation he had suffered would have been in vain, and Ur would surely be lost.
"From the moment you met Tidar, Ur was doomed," Abram said. "No one can stop his expansion; we can't. We might as well just throw Ur away and let them fight amongst themselves."
Tara hadn't expected Abram to say such a thing, but he vaguely felt there was some truth to it. He gripped his wine cup, his face pale, and asked, "What about our family?"
"I've already arranged for Naho to make thorough preparations. While Nimrod's guards are busy quelling the rebellion, let's go, Father."
Tara gritted his teeth and finally agreed to leave the observation deck with Abram.
Shortly after they left, Nimrod quelled the chaos, but more than half of his soldiers obeyed him.
The three kings watched him silently, feeling utterly humiliated. They were furious, but when they looked around, they found that Tara, the one they had vented their anger on, was gone.
"Where is Terah?"
"Teraah escaped in the chaos!"
Nimrod clenched his fists, about to unleash a torrent of curses, when the foreman of the Tower of Babel entered to report.
"Your Majesty, it was Terah's son Abram who caused the disturbance, adding to our chaos."
"Abram?" Nimrod roared in fury. "How dare he!"
The gods confused the people's languages and accents, and the Tower of Babel, like a tower without foundation, collapsed in the panic of the crowd. The flow of people dispersed, and Nimrod's prestige, like the tower itself, vanished.
Desperate to regain his authority as king of many nations, Nimrod immediately decided to target Abram, ordering a full-scale search for the Ur people.
Haniyah, seeing the chaos, felt deeply uneasy.
"Are we really alright doing this, Yahweh?"
He sensed that Yahweh had made a mess of things, but as companions, he wouldn't place all the blame on Yahweh.
"If the Messiah finds out, he'll definitely report it to God! What will we do then!"
God didn't answer, but only gazed in one direction.
"It's him!" Hania, with her sharp eyes, spotted Abram running out of the Tower of Babel with Terah, and also foresaw the large number of soldiers behind him.
Tera, old and frail, was soon out of breath. Finally, after leaving the tower's perimeter, Abram had to consider his father's strength and stop to rest.
He patted Terah's back to help him catch his breath, while vigilantly scanning their surroundings, not wanting to miss a single sound.
"Ah, I've found you." Hania emerged from the shadows, her voice slightly distorted by her mask.
"Eliezer!" Abram cried out uncontrollably, and a servant immediately jumped in front of him, blocking the approaching guest.
Eliezer's face showed a hint of surprise. With his five senses, he could detect even the passing of a fly, yet this person was right in front of them, and he hadn't even caught a glimpse of his presence.
The opponent was strong.
"Don't be nervous, we're not your enemy," Haniya said easily, moving the sharp sword held in front of her.
"We're just here to remind you that now is not the time to rest." Because of Abram's kindness in providing a meal, Haniya told him what she had seen.
"They're coming to capture you."
"Who are they?"
"Huh?" Haniya looked at him in surprise. "You know perfectly well who they are. Why do you ask this question?"
"It is precisely because I know that I sigh," Abram gave a bitter smile. "The world is vast, but where should I go?"
Including the elderly, women, and children of his tribe, they numbered only four or five hundred. More troubling than Nimrod's pursuit was finding a new place to settle.
Suddenly, a very cold voice rang out. "The upper reaches of the Euphrates, from where they came, and to where they go." God, because of Abram's goodwill towards Haniah, instructed him to return to where they came from.
Abram then noticed that there was another person standing beside the masked man. He stared at him blankly, wondering why, no matter how hard he tried to look, he couldn't seem to retain the other's face in his mind.
"So who are you?" A mortal, unable to gaze at God's face for long, clutched his aching head and asked.
"The angels of the Lord," Haniah said, removing his mask and laughing before Yahweh could.
God glanced at him. Although He wouldn't interrupt an angel, Haniah's answer still surprised Him.
Haniah winked at Yahweh. 'Yahweh, how about we make God's name known throughout the earth!'
"Not so," God replied indifferently.
Abram forced his attention away from the distinguished silver-haired man and looked at Hania.
He recognized the lively, strikingly handsome young man.
He had once treated him to a meal.
"Jehovah…" he murmured. The name was familiar; many years ago, his family had worshipped this god, but under Nimrod's power, the word had gradually fallen out of favor.
But today, everything overturned his understanding. Shinar was in chaos, Nimrod had suffered his retribution, yet on this very night, two men claiming to be messengers of Jehovah appeared before him.
He seemed to sense an opportunity for himself.
He was different from the others under Nimrod's command; he didn't worship the sun or moon. This further pushed him to the side of believing in a creator god.
"Is this God's will?" He stared intently at Hania and the other man—he tried to memorize their faces, but failed.
I sensed a surge in the power of faith in Him within humanity, accompanied by an intense desire for worldly power.
Even a God who could understand the thoughts of creation but rarely comprehend their thought processes remained remarkably calm; He had clearly...