Chapter 155: Chapter 153: Riddle Match... Leaving The Sage Shocked...

(A/N):

Drop a meme here that you find funny. Or reflects your mood.

Guys I hope you put more comments and power stones... Which will encourage me...

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Veenadhara was confident because now this was familiar territory.

This was his battlefield.

Not songs.

Not arguments.

Not boasting.

A riddle.

A question woven through poetry.

A challenge crafted by his own brilliance.

The sage closed his eyes for a moment.

Then began reciting.

His voice carried smoothly through the evening air.

"I am born without birth."

"I die without death."

"The blind can see me."

"The sighted often cannot."

"I travel farther than the wind."

"Yet never leave my place."

"Kings seek me."

"Beggars possess me."

"The wise fear losing me."

"The foolish throw me away."

"I grow larger when shared."

"I become smaller when hoarded."

"No weapon can cut me."

"Yet a single lie can wound me."

"What am I?"

Silence followed as the sage finished his question.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The villagers exchanged looks.

Many had heard this riddle before.

Months ago.

While the Sage was confidence because he had never lost using this riddle.

Sometimes in different kingdoms.

Sometimes in royal courts.

Sometimes among scholars.

Nobody had answered it correctly.

At least not completely.

The layered meanings trapped most people.

That was why Sage Veenadhara loved it.

The sage slowly opened his eyes.

"...."

The confident smile remained.

His gaze landed on Devara.

Waiting.

Watching.

Expecting confusion. Expecting hesitation.

Expecting defeat.

Instead... The merchant smiled.

Not a forced smile. Not a nervous smile.

A genuine smile as if he understood the question of his.

As though he had just heard something amusing.

The sage’s confidence weakened slightly.

Devara looked up toward the sky.

Thinking.

For perhaps three heartbeats.

Then he answered.

"Reputation."

The smile remained on his face.

The sage blinked caught off guard by the sudden answer.

Devara continued calmly.

"It is born without birth because reputation has no physical form."

"It dies without death because it disappears when forgotten."

"The blind can see it through actions."

"The sighted often miss it while focusing only on appearances."

The villagers slowly leaned closer.

Sage Veenadhara’s smile began fading with each words Devara uttered through his mouth.

Devara continued.

"It travels farther than the wind."

"A good reputation reaches lands you’ve never visited."

"Yet it never leaves its source."

"Kings seek it."

"Beggars possess it."

"The wise guard it."

"The foolish waste it."

The sage’s eyes widened slightly.

"...."

The villagers began whispering.

The answer fit.

Every line fit.

But Devara wasn’t finished.

"It grows larger when shared."

"Because honor and goodwill increase when spread among others."

"It becomes smaller when hoarded."

"Because selfishness destroys reputation."

His voice remained calm.

Steady.

Almost conversational.

"No sword can cut reputation."

"But a single lie can wound it."

Silence. Complete silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The villagers stared at Devara in shock.

They don’t know is this the right answer. But seeing the sage reaction they understood it must be.

Shakuni looked away and bit his lip to stop himself from smiling.

Meanwhile...

Sage Veenadhara forgot to breathe.

Literally.

The sage sat frozen.

His mouth slightly open.

"...."

His fingers tightened around the veena resting beside him.

His mind replayed the answer again.

And again. And again.

Every verse.

Every line.

Every layer.

The answer fit. Not partially. Not mostly.

Completely. Perfectly.

For the question he asked.

The sage had spent years asking that riddle.

Years.

Scholars had failed.

Poets had failed.

Ministers had failed.

Princes had failed.

Many came close.

Some understood portions.

Others understood different layers.

But none had ever solved every part so effortlessly.

Yet this merchant...

This annoying moustached merchant... Had done it after only a few moments of thought.

The villagers noticed the sage’s expression.

And immediately realized something historic had just happened.

For the first time...

Someone had answered one of Sage Veenadhara’s favorite riddles perfectly.

The sage stared at Devara.

His eyes wide. His mind blank.

His pride momentarily forgotten.

Even breathing seemed optional.

Finally...

After what felt like an eternity...

Sage Veenadhara managed to speak.

His voice sounded strangely small.

"...Correct."

The word left his mouth with enormous difficulty.

The villagers almost cheered.

Several had to cover their mouths.

One old farmer silently punched the air in victory.

Meanwhile Devara simply nodded.

-Nod!

"...."

As though this were the most natural thing in the world.

Then he smiled. A calm smile.

The kind that made Shakuni immediately pity the sage.

Because now... It was Devara’s turn to ask a question.

The banyan tree stood silent.

The flower fields swayed gently beneath the evening breeze.

Yet nobody paid attention to them anymore.

Not the villagers secretly peeking from their homes.

Not Shakuni.

And certainly not Sage Veenadhara Kashyap.

The sage was still frozen.

"...."

His mind remained trapped on the answer Devara had given moments ago.

For years he had asked that riddle.

Years.

Scholars had failed.

Court poets had failed.

No matter how many times he thought he couldn’t shake off the same thoughts from his mind.

Even several learned sages had stumbled.

Yet this merchant had solved it as casually as a man discussing the weather.

The realization was still sinking in.

Then suddenly—

-Ahem.

Devara coughed lightly.

The sound snapped Veenadhara back to reality.

The sage blinked several times.

Almost like a man waking from a dream.

Devara smiled gently as he asked.

"Can I ask my question now?"

The villagers immediately leaned closer.

Shakuni crossed his arms.

The sage quickly straightened his robes.

His pride refused to let him appear shaken.

Even if internally he was still recovering.

"Of course."

He nodded confidently.

-Nod!

"Ask."

The familiar arrogance slowly returned.

After all... One correct answer did not make somebody superior.

And Sage Veenadhara remained one of the greatest masters of riddles alive.

At least that was what he told himself.

Devara slowly sat up straighter.

A faint smile appeared beneath his massive moustache.

The setting sun reflected within his green eyes.

For a brief moment, something about those eyes felt unusual.

Ancient.

Calm.

Far deeper than they should have been.

Then Devara began speaking.

His voice carried through the village.

Not loud.

Yet every word somehow reached the listeners clearly.

"I am older than the first lie." 𝒇𝙧𝙚𝓮𝔀𝓮𝒃𝙣𝓸𝒗𝒆𝒍.𝙘𝒐𝒎

"Yet younger than tomorrow."

"I am carried by kings."

"Yet owned by none."

"I am born whenever two strangers meet."

"And die when brothers forget."

"The poor spend me daily."

"The rich often lose me."

"I am stronger than armies."

"Yet weaker than suspicion."

"I can build a kingdom without touching a stone."

"I can destroy a kingdom without drawing a sword."

"The wise nurture me."

"The foolish demand me."

"The honest earn me."

"The arrogant expect me."

"I have no weight."

"Yet the world rests upon me."

"What am I?"

Silence followed.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The villagers exchanged looks.

Shakuni raised an eyebrow.

He could see Devara took the same style of the sage Veenadhara who asked him a question just a few moments ago.

Even he had not expected something this intricate.

Meanwhile Sage Veenadhara closed his eyes.

The sage immediately entered deep thought.

His mind raced.

Line by line. Verse by verse. Meaning after meaning.

He dissected every word.

Every layer. Every implication.

Minutes passed....

The villagers remained silent.

"...."

"...."

"...."

Nobody wanted to interrupt.

Finally... Sage Veenadhara’s eyes opened.

A smile appeared. Then grew wider.

Confidence returned.

The answer had come to him.

Or so he believed.

The sage folded his arms proudly.

"I know it."

Devara nodded his head hearing the confidence.

-Nod!

"Then answer."

Sage Veenadhara smiled hearing Devara’s tone.

"The answer is fame."

Several villagers nodded.

The answer sounded reasonable.

The sage continued confidently.

"Fame is older than lies."

"Kings carry it."

"It can build kingdoms."

"It can destroy kingdoms."

"The rich lose it."

"The poor seek it."

The more he explained, the more convinced he became.

At the end he smiled triumphantly.

"There."

His confidence had fully returned.

"That is the answer."

Silence followed.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The villagers looked toward Devara.

Waiting.

The disguised king listened patiently.

Then smiled. A very small smile.

The kind of smile that immediately made Shakuni pity the sage.

"...."

Because he recognized it.

Devara slowly shook his head.

"No."

One word. Just one.

The smile vanished from Sage Veenadhara’s face.

"What?"

"No."

The sage blinked in shock hearing his answer was wrong.

"Impossible."

Devara remained calm.

"Your answer is incorrect."

The villagers immediately began whispering.

Veenadhara frowned thinking deeply.

-Frown!

"No."

Now it was his turn.

"The answer fits."

"It fits several lines."

Devara nodded calmly as he played with a leaf.

"It does."

The sage immediately brightened.

"Then—"

"But not all of them."

The words struck harder than expected.

Veenadhara froze hearing the explanation.

Devara continued to explain why Sage’s answer is wrong.

"Your answer explains some verses."

"Not every verse."

The sage opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

His mind immediately returned to the riddle.

Re-examining. Recalculating.

Searching.

The confidence from moments ago began fading.

Because deep down... He already knew.

The merchant was right.

There were still lines he had forced to fit.

Several verses remained imperfect.

The answer wasn’t complete.

And Veenadhara understood something terrifying.

The merchant had intentionally created a riddle where partial understanding wasn’t enough.

The sage slowly looked at Devara.

For the first time since they met... He wasn’t seeing a merchant.

He was seeing a worthy opponent.

And for the first time in many years... The great Sage Veenadhara Kashyap felt something unfamiliar.

Doubt.

Meanwhile Devara calmly sat beneath the banyan tree.

Patiently waiting.

As though he had all the time in the world.

And somehow...

That calmness disturbed the sage far more than being told he was wrong.

The silence beneath the banyan tree stretched longer and longer.

Sage Veenadhara sat with his eyes closed.

His mind raced through countless possibilities.

The villagers watched from every hidden corner of Mallikavana.

Nobody spoke.

Nobody moved.

They were witnessing something they had never seen before.

The great Veenadhara Kashyap struggling.

Actually struggling.

Finally the sage opened his eyes.

His confidence had diminished slightly, but it was still there.

"I know."

He pointed toward Devara.

"The answer is fame."

Devara smiled.

Then calmly shook his head.

"No."

The sage frowned.

Immediately he began thinking again.

A few moments later another answer came.

"Wisdom."

Devara shook his head.

"No."

Veenadhara’s eyebrows furrowed.

"Knowledge."

"No."

"Honor."

"No."

"Legacy."

"No."

"Power."

"No."

"Influence."

"No."

The answer came every time.

The same calm response.

The same gentle shake of the head.

The same composed expression.

As if Devara wasn’t even remotely troubled.

Minutes turned into nearly an hour.

The villagers became increasingly fascinated.

Every answer Veenadhara gave seemed reasonable.

Yet somehow none of them were correct.

The sage’s breathing gradually became heavier.

Not from physical exhaustion.

Mental exhaustion.

His mind was working harder than it had in years.

"Virtue!"

"No."

"Truth!"

"No."

"Destiny!"

"No."

"Glory!"

"No."

The sage stood up.

Then sat down again. Then stood up again.

"...."

His hands gripped his beard.

At one point he started pacing circles around the banyan tree.

The villagers had never seen him like this.

Usually others were the ones struggling.

Others were the ones sweating.

Others were the ones desperately searching for answers.

Today the roles had been reversed.

Shakuni meanwhile sat comfortably against the tree.

Enjoying every second of it.

Eventually Veenadhara stopped pacing.

His face showed genuine frustration.

Not arrogance. Not superiority.

Frustration.

The kind born from not understanding something.

For the first time in many years, he felt what his challengers had felt.

The realization only made him more irritated.

Finally he stopped. Turned toward Devara.

And spoke.

"Enough."

Devara raised an eyebrow.

The sage pointed at him.

"What is the answer?"

The villagers immediately became attentive.

They wanted to know too.

Sage Veenadhara folded his arms.

His pride clearly didn’t like asking.

Yet curiosity had won.

"What is it?"

Devara looked at him for several moments.

Then smiled.

"The answer..."

He paused deliberately.

"...is trust."

The village became silent.

Complete silence.

"...."

"...."

"...."

The word echoed in everyone’s minds.

Trust.

Sage Veenadhara frowned. Then his eyes widened slightly.

Devara continued to explain.

"Listen carefully."

The sage remained silent.

The villagers listened.

Even the evening breeze seemed quieter.

Devara began explaining.

"’I am older than the first lie, yet younger than tomorrow.’"

He smiled.

"Trust existed before the first lie was spoken."

"But tomorrow’s trust has not yet been created."

The sage’s eyes narrowed.

Devara continued.

"’I am carried by kings, yet owned by none.’"

"No king owns trust."

"No ruler owns trust."

"They can only carry the trust others place in them."

Several villagers slowly nodded.

The explanation fit.

Perfectly.

"’I am born whenever two strangers meet and die when brothers forget.’"

Devara looked at the sage.

"Trust begins when strangers choose to believe one another."

"And dies when even family members stop believing each other."

Sage Veenadhara remained silent.

"...."

His mind had already begun retracing the riddle.

The answer fit.

Again. And again. And again.

Trying to find any mistake. In the riddle answer.

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(Author note:)

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Don’t forget to review guys...

Guys I have a new fic which named: Karuppan: King of Openings.