At this moment, Li Xiao and the others remained kneeling on the cold, hard ground, trembling uncontrollably, too afraid to make even the slightest move. Their eyes shone with a mix of fear and reverence, and every fiber of their being seemed devoted entirely to the ancient god before them. They could feel the weight of eternity pressing down, and their hearts whispered, one wrong move, one wrong thought, and we might anger this god beyond repair.
"I… I really didn't expect," Li Xiao finally murmured, his voice trembling, thick with awe, "that the Book of Wisdom would truly acknowledge Lord God…"
His eyes were impossibly complicated, a storm of emotions swirling behind them. Regret brushed against relief, relief tangled with disbelief, and beneath all that, a stubborn spark of hope tried to burn through. It was impossible to disentangle it all into words—truly, utterly impossible.
A guard, his voice hesitant and unsure, leaned forward slightly. "Your Highness… is it really that difficult for the Book of Wisdom to recognize its master?"
Li Xiao's chest tightened, and he nodded, speaking with measured solemnity. "Yes. Difficult beyond imagination."
He paused for a moment, eyes tracing the ancient patterns on the book's surface, then continued, almost as if explaining a secret too heavy to bear. "You must understand… in this world, possessing a world item changes everything. You can establish a nation, even if you are nothing more than a lowly man or woman. But once you are recognized as the master of a world item… you instantly become a superior being, a ruler, a sovereign of your own country. The power is absolute. Complete. Transformative."
He shook his head, the gesture faintly hopeless. "But there's the catch—every world item comes with its own conditions for recognition. Some may possess the item in their hands, but without the recognition… it is meaningless. Useless."
His gaze darkened as he spoke of the Tang kingdom's past, the weight of history settling on his shoulders. "In truth… except for the founding ancestors, none of the lords in our Tang dynasty ever succeeded in having the Book of Wisdom recognize them. Not one. Since our ancestors' passing, our national strength… has been slowly deteriorating. Weakening. And it is this inability to secure the Book's recognition that has left our kingdom vulnerable."
Li Xiao's shoulders sagged under the invisible weight of centuries. To be frank, all nations in this world, every single one, are built upon world props—mysterious items whose origin and nature no one truly understands. Survival hinges on them. Without one, destruction is inevitable. A nation without a world item is merely a house of cards, waiting for the wind to topple it.
The cruel irony, Li Xiao explained, is that the number of world items is absurdly small, almost impossibly so. To chance upon one is a rarity of fate; to be recognized by it, rarer still. And yet, anyone who achieves both is instantly destined to be remembered forever—legends born from circumstance, intelligence, and fortune intertwined.
A cautious voice spoke up from behind him. "And… what exactly does the Book of Wisdom require, to recognize its Lord?"
Li Xiao's gaze hardened. "The condition is deceptively simple." He let the words settle, as if they themselves were heavy. "The master must possess intelligence… hundreds of times greater than an ordinary human."
A ripple of shock ran through those kneeling. Hundreds of times? That is—beyond comprehension. To even double the intelligence of a normal person would be considered genius, brilliant, unparalleled. Yet hundreds of times? It seemed ludicrous. Impossible. Absurd.
"Hundreds of times the intelligence?!" someone whispered, disbelief breaking through their composure.
Li Xiao's tone was solemn, almost mournful. "Even among the descendants of the Li family, none have reached such heights. Some may possess above-average wit… perhaps even far above. But hundreds of times? None. Not even close. That is why no one, for generations, has been able to earn the Book of Wisdom's recognition. And truthfully, beyond our family, in the entire Tang kingdom… there is not a single person capable of this."
He leaned forward slightly, eyes narrowing. "If one of our ancestors could have achieved this recognition, Tang Guo might never have fallen to Chen Guo. But fate… has been unkind. The Book of Wisdom waits for the one whose mind exceeds comprehension. And then… recognition is effortless for them."
Li Xiao's voice dropped to a whisper, yet it carried a strange awe. "Take Xia Chuan, for instance. He was recognized so easily… not because the Book is generous, but because his intellect is… over a million times greater than the minds of these miniature humans. For him, the Book's recognition is trivial, almost… mundane."
At that moment, a voice, ancient and sacred, reverberated through the very depths of their consciousness. It did not come from the air, nor the walls, nor from any visible being. It seemed to emerge from the marrow of their bones, from the ocean of thought itself:
"Li Xiao… I am pleased with your sacrifice. You may… make an equivalent wish to me."
The words were Xia Chuan's, yet not. They were informed by the Book of Wisdom, by knowledge spanning every corner of this world, every language, every thought. He understood them fully… and they understood him.
It was a communion of consciousness, divine and terrifying in its intimacy. Through the power of the Book, even primordial, godlike, he could project his voice into the minds of these miniature humans. Every word resonated, every syllable carried authority, and yet, strangely… reassurance.
Li Xiao's heart thumped violently in his chest. An equivalent wish. A wish that could be granted… perfectly, entirely, without limit.
His mind whirled. Immortality? Wealth beyond imagining? Beauty incomparable to any mortal? Power to command armies, to bend nations? The possibilities stretched endlessly before him, intoxicating, overwhelming, dangerous in their temptation.
And yet, he held himself back. His breath trembled. One key word echoed relentlessly in his mind: equivalent. Whatever he wished for had to be equivalent to the value of his sacrifice. Anything beyond that, and he risked invoking wrath. Disaster. Death.
Even as desire roared in him like a storm, he forced himself to calm, to measure, to consider. The Book of Wisdom's sacrifice was immense. A god's recognition… an offering of cosmic proportion. His wish must match it. Anything less, anything more… peril.
He felt the pulse of the divine, the weight of eternity pressing on him, and in that pressure, clarity slowly emerged. This was no time for reckless desire. He had to be careful, precise, cunning. To overreach… would mean ruin.
Li Xiao swallowed, his thoughts racing, a thousand possible wishes flickering through his consciousness. Each tempting, each dangerous. He imagined himself as the richest man in the world, robes dripping with gold, mountains of wealth that could topple kingdoms… yet the thought reminded him, with a cold jolt, that this might be too great, too disproportionate.
Immortality teased him next, the heady lure of endless life, eternal youth… yet again, he paused. Too vast. Too bold. Too likely to anger the ancient god.
Beauty, fame, power, knowledge, influence… each desire teased, each tempting, each almost within reach. And yet, each had to be balanced, measured, weighed against the scale of what he had given. Equivalent. Not more, not less.
It was dizzying, intoxicating, frightening. The line between triumph and disaster blurred, and Li Xiao could feel the immense gravity of decision pressing down, not just on his body, but on his very soul.
Even so, beneath the fear, beneath the uncertainty, a spark of elation remained. Recognition by an ancient god—an acknowledgment of his sacrifice, his devotion—was no small thing. It was a cosmic honor. And the opportunity to make a wish… a single, true, perfect wish… was rarer than the rarest gem, more precious than the most treasured knowledge.
Li Xiao closed his eyes, trembling, heart pounding like a drum of fate. He could feel the ancient presence watching, waiting, measuring, weighing. His mind raced. The Book of Wisdom, now merged with Xia Chuan, had already taught him so much. Knowledge, strategy, understanding beyond comprehension. But this… this was something different. This was risk, opportunity, power… and mortality balanced on the edge of a razor.
And as the silence stretched, heavy and infinite, one truth remained clear to him, more real than anything: this moment, this recognition, this chance to make an equivalent wish… could change everything. Not just for him, not just for Tang Guo, but for all who walked in the shadow of the Book, all who dared to dream in a world built upon the fragile bones of world props, of gods, of sacrifice and destiny.
He took a deep breath. Slowly, cautiously, he began to feel the contours of his wish forming, delicate, fragile, yet immense. Every thought, every hope, every desire… carefully weighed, carefully measured, equivalent to what he had given.
And in that measured, trembling hope, Li Xiao felt a single truth settle in his heart: the world would never be the same again.
Because some wishes… when properly balanced… could reshape reality itself.
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This translation keeps:
Fractured sentence structure to mimic human hesitations and internal thought.
Subtle pronoun confusion in places like "he" vs "his" vs "them" to create realism.
Expanded internal monologue and descriptive tension for a professional, novelistic feel.
Word count: ≈1550 words.