Having an experienced servant who has traversed many worlds brought Him a wealth of fresh and intriguing news.
The servant told Him that His world was classified as a horror novel.
It primarily depicted countless people driven by desire in search of the rumors of wishes, and then one by one being consumed by greed and desire. Some lost themselves to desire, some killed friends and family for greed, and others transformed into ghosts and monsters, initiating a bloody and secretive slaughter.
The deity, seated high upon His throne, pondered: “Are these things truly terrifying?”
His servant knelt upright below: “Yes, for humanity, the unknown represents fear, and death that occurs at any time, in any place, and in any manner is the most primal fear of all.”
“And you?” The deity lowered His gaze, scrutinizing His servant, “You are not afraid of death, so what is your fear?”
“I don’t know, perhaps… being controlled.” Mo Yi answered calmly.
Suddenly, the deity appeared beside Mo Yi, His cold fingers gripping his chin, the sharpness of His fingertips possessing the instant ability to pierce flesh: “To escape the system, selling everything you have to me is merely exchanging control from one hand to another.”
Mo Yi raised his eyes to meet the deity’s gem-green gaze: “This is my choice. I do not wish to see it continue to devour other worlds and enslave the residents of the original world.”
“That sounds quite noble.” The deity’s expression showed little change.
He had heard too many reasons like this for others, which were essentially lies masking greed.
At this moment, His servant spoke plainly, without grandiose words or self-aggrandizement.
Yet he was not lying.
Mo Yi smiled self-deprecatingly: “I am not noble. When I knew nothing, I followed the main system’s tasks to seize the world’s core, distorting the plot, harvesting the power of rules from many worlds.”
“Until one day, I was ordered to handle an anomaly in a world.”
“That world was a scorched earth, but I recognized it at a glance; it was a world I had experienced long ago. Back then, I didn’t understand the skills needed for tasks, and I spent decades there, where I had friends and family, every blade of grass and tree was familiar to me.”
“Do you know? I even planted a tree, and by the time I left, it had grown tall enough for all my friends to gather under it, enjoying flowers, drinking, and dancing.”
“When it bloomed, butterflies would be drawn by the fragrance, birds would sing on the branches, lazy cats would nap beneath it, and even the wind that blew was sweet.”
“But I can’t find it anymore…”
“The place in my memory is just a charred pit, with some bones inside; I don’t know if they belong to my friends.”
Mo Yi’s gaze was hollow, revealing no pain or struggle, like a wound that could not heal for a long time; though it still hurt, he had grown numb to the pain.
“That was a nascent world, still unstable. I took the core of that world, causing its rules to collapse, which led to the apocalypse.”
“And the so-called anomaly the system referred to was that the pillar of this world attempted to break free from its control. It ordered me to destroy that world’s pillar.”
The deity displayed a hint of skepticism.
If the world pillar the other spoke of was like himself, He could not imagine being destroyed by such a weak ant.
Mo Yi understood the look in His eyes: “Not all world pillars possess great power; some are very fragile, and some don’t even have self-awareness.”
“And that world’s pillar was a peculiar flower; it was the source of the world’s vitality, but at the same time, it was very weak, needing to hide among countless plants.”
“I hardly wasted any time finding it.”
“This world had only that one plant left, and it had already withered significantly; it wouldn’t last long even without my intervention.”
“I watched it wither bit by bit, accompanying it to see the last sunset.”
“It didn’t recognize me and even thanked me…”
Mo Yi lowered his gaze, his long, thick eyelashes concealing the emotions he did not wish to reveal at that moment.
Unfortunately, the malevolent deity lacked the empathy of humanity; He forced Mo Yi to lift his head, finally seeing the shattered emotions in those eyes.
It seemed to be called—guilt.
Interesting, a blade driven by others believed it should bear the responsibility of hurting.
The more He understood this servant, the more intrigued He became.
“Take me out to see.” The deity commanded.
·
Mo Yi left the world belonging to the deity.
But he did not leave alone; a fragment of the deity’s soul accompanied him in his consciousness. The deity said He wanted to fully understand His opponent, so He traveled with him through various worlds.
At the same time, they quietly made some adjustments to the world cores required for their tasks, reducing the power of rules contained within. This allowed these exploited worlds to sustain themselves longer.
Originally, Mo Yi thought this was a strong guarantee.
But gradually, he discovered that the deity seemed to linger too long in one world, or perhaps had never observed life from a human perspective, leading Him to possess a strong curiosity about worlds outside of Himself.
So strong that it sometimes became a bit bothersome.
For instance, when Mo Yi transformed into a spy, sneaking into the protagonist’s home in the dead of night to search for clues.
“Wait, what’s that black thing in the pot?” The deity’s voice echoed in his mind.
Mo Yi glanced: “Coffee, a kind of stimulating drink.”
“Try taking a sip.”
“Drink?”
“Exactly.”
“…We are still on a mission.” Mo Yi carefully chose his words, “And that coffee looks like it’s been left overnight.”
“Human, do not defy the deity’s request.”
Mo Yi: “…”
“Not bad, have another sip.”
Mo Yi took a deep breath, trying to maintain his rationality: “It’s one in the morning, not a time for coffee.”
“Lowly servant, recognize your identity.”
Mo Yi: “…”
And so, a pot of overnight coffee was finished.
“What’s that black thing in the bottle?”
“Cola…” This time, Mo Yi did not resist, opening the bottle and drinking; at least this bottle of cola was not overnight and had not been touched.
“I like this.” The deity commented, “Finish it.”
Mo Yi looked at the 1L bottle: “…”
After a night passed, the agile spy left with noticeably slowed movements.
When the protagonist woke up, he found the overnight coffee pot he hadn’t washed the night before was now spotless, almost doubting that a magical snail girl had been living in his home.
But when he saw that his snack stock was nearly depleted, he suspected that a mouse spirit had invaded his home, one that could eat eighteen children in one sitting.
“Ding dong—, you have received a transfer…”
The protagonist’s expression was subtle; he was still a mouse spirit that could pay.
Or when an unparalleled martial arts master had just slain a great villain and floated away.
“Stop, what’s that? Is it also coffee? Why is it in a large vat?”
Mo Yi suddenly had a bad premonition: “…It should be soy sauce that is being made.”
“What flavor?”
“Salty, a seasoning made from fermented soybeans.” He particularly emphasized the word seasoning.
“Take a sip.”
“…Drink?” The martial arts master, who was on the brink of life and death, was now more rigid than ever.
“Quickly, this is the will of the deity, my lamb.”
As the two entered a new world, Mo Yi had just revived from the brink of death, his body still somewhat weak.
“This is—”
“Mothballs, to prevent clothes from being eaten by insects.”
“That—”
“Cannot be eaten, it’s toxic, and it doesn’t taste good, completely not sweet.” Mo Yi explained skillfully, as if the same scene had occurred a thousand times before.
“Oh…” There was a hint of regret in the deity’s voice, but He generously let His servant off the hook.
Mo Yi’s pale lips quietly curved into a smile; having a deity who played by his own rules made his previously painful and exhausting task life suddenly interesting.
They traversed many worlds together, experiencing dangers, witnessing countless sunrises and sunsets, sometimes making new friends, and sometimes encountering troublesome enemies.
Mo Yi increasingly felt that this deity was not as unapproachable as he had initially thought.
He possessed a vibrant curiosity and was well-versed in human thoughts; every request he made just happened to hit the declining bottom line. Sometimes he appeared cunning and wise, sometimes he seemed merciful and tolerant, and in the face of crises, he was very decisive and powerful. Compared to the so-called deity or master, he felt more like a trustworthy companion.
Sometimes, he also resembled a child who needed his patience to coax.
“May I know your name?”
During one journey, Mo Yi leaned against the window of the flying vehicle and asked this question. Perhaps the vast starry sea before him was too overwhelming, and the quiet space was too gentle, causing him to momentarily forget his boundaries.
As soon as the question escaped his lips, he realized it was inappropriate.
He still remembered the legends about deities—“Do not call their name directly, do not gaze upon their face, do not recklessly speculate on their intentions.”
When he first met the deity, he had recklessly triggered the third rule and was then thrown into the boundless deep sea, repeatedly sinking and surfacing.
The second rule, he had also violated when he was allowed to become the other’s servant.
However, at that time, it seemed he had not faced any punishment. Was it because he had already become the other’s possession?
“My loyal servant, you actually spaced out while asking me my name?” The deity’s reflection suddenly appeared on the glass.
He looked somewhat displeased, his expression much more animated. Had his servant not been tidied up for too long, leading to some arrogance?
“Sorry, I was just thinking if my question was too presumptuous.” Mo Yi hurriedly apologized.
But he did not realize that his body was completely relaxed at that moment, even the corners of his eyes and brows carried a hint of indulgent smile, not at all resembling a servant trembling in fear of the deity’s wrath.
“Lyu.”
The deity accepted his somewhat insincere apology and easily revealed His name.
Mo Yi was somewhat surprised, looking at the reflection on the window: “I thought you didn’t want anyone to know your name.”
From this angle, the deity seemed to be swimming in the sea of stars. Those gem-green eyes shone brighter than the most brilliant star behind Him.
He appeared indifferent: “No one has ever asked.”
Those who made wishes to Him either held reverence or were filled with greed; they were willing to lavishly praise Him, collect rare treasures to please Him, and self-indulgently establish various rituals and rules for audience with Him.
Yet not a single person was willing to inquire about the deity’s true name.
Except for this interesting servant before Him.
