The capital of the Abbasid Empire, the White Chamber.
Several richly dressed nobles, one of whom stopped the imam who was walking out of the White Room, and asked, "Is Harry still conscious?"
The imam, whose white beard reached his chest, said, "He was awake for a while this morning, but he's been in a deep sleep ever since."
The nobleman lowered his voice: "Has the Caliph agreed to his will?"
The imam shook his head.
The nobles exchanged glances, their faces filled with disappointment.
“Harry was seriously ill and his consciousness was already impaired, so this will is naturally invalid.”
"As long as he lives, he is the master of the empire, and his words and decisions are the will of the true God."
"You don't really believe that patient who can't even speak is carrying out God's holy command?! He's terminally ill and has no idea what he's doing!"
"What's the point of arguing about this now? The Caliph's princes have all returned to their territories, and the governors have gone back to prepare for war. The war will begin soon."
Faced with the arguing nobles, the Imam closed his eyes and quoted from the scriptures: "All flesh will taste death. I test you with fortune and misfortune, and you are called to me."
The nobles looked at each other, and finally stopped arguing.
After bowing to the imam, the nobles left one after another.
A nobleman at the very back quietly approached the imam and whispered, "Will the Caliph be able to make it through the night?"
The imam's eyes were closed, but his head shook slightly.
The Holy White Chamber, the last stop on the Caliph's earthly journey, is now devoid of any sign of life.
Pure white curtains, pure white floor tiles, pure white walls.
Saladin, dressed in a white cotton shroud, lay in a huge stone coffin. His face was withered and he was emaciated. Only the occasional rise and fall of his chest proved that there was still a trace of life in his body.
The imam entered the room, came to the stone coffin, and knelt down beside Saladin.
Saladin slowly opened his eyes, his vision blurred and he struggled to turn toward the imam.
The imam whispered, "They're gone."
Saladin opened his mouth slightly and uttered a single syllable with all his might.
The imam nodded: "As you wish, when you return to the embrace of God, I will preside over the funeral of Muslim Hab. The funeral will be swift and simple, with no banquets or mourning rites."
Saladin nodded slightly and said nothing more.
The imam's voice was somewhat hoarse: "My Majesty, they're all gone, even your son..."
Saladin's face remained expressionless, as if he had heard something utterly ordinary.
The imam struggled to suppress his sobs: "You are God's representative, the ruler of the mortal world, the most powerful person in the world, yet they didn't even see you one last time..."
Saladin turned to the imam, laboriously reaching his hand out of the sarcophagus to pat the latter's clothes, seemingly to comfort him and tell him there was no need to grieve.
The imam wiped his eyes with his sleeve, stood up, bowed to Saladin, and turned to leave the room.
As the door closed, the light was completely cut off from the room, plunging the entire Holy White Room into cold darkness.
After an unknown amount of time, Saladin, who was in a deep sleep, suddenly opened his eyes.
He turned his face toward the endless darkness, as if something there was coveting him.
A dark figure arrived beside the stone coffin.
The dark figure leaned down slightly, looking down at Saladin in the coffin, its body making a slight cracking sound.
A smile appeared on Saladin's face.
A voice echoed in Saladin's mind: "You don't need to speak; I can hear everything you think."
Saladin nodded slightly, thinking to himself, "In these final moments, I am glad that someone can talk to me."
The shadowy figure lowered its head, revealing a skeletal face: "You are calmer than I expected."
Saladin: "Peaceful? No, I am overjoyed. Throat, listen to me, I am awaiting the end of my journey, and nothing is more exciting than that moment."
Throat bone: "The end of your journey, as you say, will be endless darkness and cold death. Do you know that?"
Saladin: "Throat bone, do not take my words literally."
"A person's life is very short, from birth to death, it is only a few decades."
"There is a reason why God set human life so short at the beginning of creation..."
The man with the throat bone interrupted Saladin: "Do you still believe in this so-called God?"
Saladin responded, "I do not believe in the God that people talk about, but in the God that is in my heart."
The throat bone was silent for a moment, then asked, "You just said that there is a reason why God set human life so short?"
Saladin: "That's right. God wants us to experience the richness and wonder of the world within the limited time of our lives, but also wants us not to be defeated by the long time and continuous suffering, losing our minds and our will."
Throat bone: "What do you mean?"
Saladin: "When your life is confined to a certain time limit, you will urge yourself to explore the world, to try everything new, to acquire more experiences and things, and every day will be fulfilling and wonderful for you."
"However, if the time limit for your survival were removed, you could live like this indefinitely, but would that really be a good thing?"
"Whether you are obsessed with power or love wealth, in the endless passage of time, even if you gradually achieve all your goals, you will inevitably end up in a painful state."
"What is the meaning of your power when your followers fill every corner, when your territory is boundless, and when you can no longer find anyone to oppose or resist you?"
"What is the meaning of wealth when you have collected all things of value and made everything that belongs to others your own private hoard?"
The icy voice in his throat grew louder and louder: "You know I don't pursue those trivial things. I want to replace God and become the head of all things."
Saladin's voice held a hint of amusement: "Throat Bone, do you remember the story of the chicken and the egg we talked about?"
"Suppose you actually succeed in killing the god and become the new god of this world, then the god who created this god will become your new target."
"If you kill the God who created God again, then another God who created God will jump out and block your way."
"If this cycle continues, you will find that your fate is full of dark humor. You are like a puppet on a string, pursuing the unattainable path to godhood in one futile killing after another."
"However, what you don't know is that perhaps in some place you can never reach, there is a god watching your journey of destiny, clapping and laughing at every struggle you make."
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