001
A clear and gentle female voice rang out.
"Hello, is this where the selection..." selection show is held?
The receptionist at the temple, Hector, paused mid-motion.
He tilted his head slightly, studying her quietly. "Yes, this is where we select..." select gods.
"Perfect!" Zhi Wei exhaled in relief upon hearing the confirmation and quickly stepped closer to Hector.
She smiled sheepishly. "Your place is so huge—I got completely lost."
She had been wandering around this floor of the TV station building for twenty minutes, her phone without signal, unable to even send a WeChat message.
But now, finally, she had found the studio for the audition show she was here to participate in!
Hector fell silent, puzzled.
To him, this place was naturally grand, solemn, and vast—because it was the temple.
The very site where the deity had fallen over three thousand years ago, preserving fragments of their divine essence. For millennia, it had hosted the once-a-decade competition to select a new god, welcoming ascendants while bidding farewell to the fading old ones.
Zhi Wei, however, saw no temple.
To her, this was a studio.
And why wouldn’t it be? She had entered the TV station building, gotten lost inside it, and now found the audition venue here. What else could it be?
She glanced around, taking in the surroundings.
Wow. She sucked in a breath. This show really went all out with the sci-fi aesthetic!
Before her stood a towering, domed ceiling, shaped like an inverted bowl, encasing the studio’s interior. The exterior was adorned with intricate carvings, every inch gleaming with breathtaking artistry.
Not just sci-fi—this show was going for an international vibe too!
The staff member speaking to her was clearly mixed-race, with sharp, chiseled features, black hair, and honey-amber eyes that shimmered when he looked at her.
His uniform was a futuristic, geometric-cut jumpsuit in glowing cyan, complete with shoulder insignia—industrial chic with a high-tech edge.
Zhi Wei kept her expression perfectly pleasant, warm, and approachable, but internally, she was cheering.
A show with this kind of budget? From her years as an underground idol, she could tell—this production was splurging. It had serious hit potential!
Her eyes bright with enthusiasm, she smiled at Hector.
Just in case his Chinese wasn’t fluent, she slowed her speech considerately. "Hello, I’m Zhi Wei. I’m here for the selection..."
While she observed the space, Hector studied her in turn.
She was young, with dark hair and eyes, her wavy locks cascading loosely down to her waist.
Dressed in a white blouse layered under a deep green cape, paired with black trousers and leather shoes, she looked refined—but Hector noted her attire was neither combat gear nor protective wear. No weapons, no equipment.
And strangely, she had arrived alone, without a single guard.
Though her outfit suggested modest means, her speech was measured and polite, her manners impeccable—almost aristocratic. It left Hector uncertain of her background.
He nodded. "Everyone here is for the preliminary auditions. Please wait a moment..."
Zhi Wei’s brows lifted slightly. A soft "Hmm?" escaped her.
Preliminaries? She was already inside the studio—how was this still the first round?
She watched as Hector pulled out a handheld scanner, sweeping it over her face.
Confused but composed, she maintained her smile, resisting the urge to question it.
Hector checked the scanner’s readout, then met her gaze. "Apologies, there’s no record of you. Shall I register you on-site?"
Zhi Wei kept her surprise hidden. "I signed up earlier," she said evenly.
What kind of mix-up was this? Who showed up to register on the spot?
She hadn’t just signed up—she’d passed both the video screening and in-person callback rounds. Otherwise, why would she be here, navigating the TV station alone?
But the staff member seemed unfazed.
Hector acknowledged her response with a nod. "And you came alone?"
Suppressing her doubts, she played along.
"Yep." She chuckled lightly. "At my level, no assistants—I handle everything myself."
Though he didn’t fully grasp her meaning, Hector pieced it together.
Understood. No registration data, yet claiming prior enrollment? Must be from the fringe wastelands.
Only the outermost, signal-dead colonies struggled to submit applications properly.
Straightening, he guided her to the next step. "I see. In that case, follow me for the initial screening."
The "screening" he referred to was a critical phase in the god-selection process: contamination testing.
Contamination levels measured a candidate’s exposure to corruption—their divergence from divine purity, their selfish desires.
The lower the value, the purer the devotion. Excessively high readings disqualified a candidate outright.
In past preliminaries, wastelanders had participated, but Hector knew the odds. Remote colonies, beyond the gods’ grace, rarely passed.
What kind of worthy candidate could the wastelands produce?
As he prepped the test, Zhi Wei was still puzzling it out. Screening? Was this some kind of written exam for the show?
But she didn’t let her guard down.
"Thank you," she said warmly, trailing behind him. When he bowed slightly, gesturing ahead, she mirrored the courtesy, even offering a "please" of her own—nearly bowing back.
Zhi Wei knew the drill.
No visible cameras now, but who knew where hidden ones lurked?
Though she’d only been an underground idol, never a reality-TV contestant, she understood the industry’s tricks.
A single moment of perceived rudeness could be edited into a villain’s arc.
So she treated Hector with exaggerated politeness—so much so that it threw him off.
He led her to a side chamber for registration and contamination assessment.
While awaiting the results, he handed her a cup of water. She accepted it with both hands, nodding gratefully.
"You don't have to treat me like this," he said softly, seeming somewhat flustered. "I'm just a receptionist. There's no need for such courtesy."
Zhi Wei lowered her head, her eyes downcast as she took a sip of water.
"Then, what's your name?" she asked.
Hector's eyes brightened, and he quickly replied, "Oh, you can call me Hector."
"No one's ever asked for my name before. You're different from the others," he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself.
Zhi Wei found his manner of speaking a little odd...
Beside them, the contamination analyzer dutifully flashed red light, its crystalline blue data bars inching forward.
She stared at the device, wanting to ask what it was measuring, but held back.
The red light flickered, unsettling her, suddenly tinged with an undercurrent of danger.
Zhi Wei sensed something strange—everything felt shrouded in mystery. But then she thought, maybe it was just a temperature check? Or perhaps this was the show's unique style?
She even wondered if this was some hidden-camera skit. Otherwise, why would the staff talk like this?
But since the scene had been set, how could she not play along?
So, with sincere eyes and an earnest tone, Zhi Wei responded to the staff member's self-deprecating words by showering him with encouragement.
Her polished idol persona kicked in—her tone naturally lively and spirited, her gaze clear and bright, embodying the radiant "sunshine" character to perfection.
Looking at Hector, she said firmly, "It's okay, don't think like that. You have to believe in yourself to achieve your potential. The only one who can save us from hardship is ourselves, right?"
A positive attitude, an unyielding spirit, and an ambition for freedom—these were the fundamentals of an idol's behavior!
In her fan service toward Hector, Zhi Wei nailed every point.
She almost wanted to cheer for herself.
Unfortunately, Hector froze after hearing her words, his eyes narrowing.
With hesitation, he paused, his hand moving to his waist as he stared into Zhi Wei's eyes and immediately countered with conviction, "Of course not."
His voice turned eerie. "We should believe in the gods. The gods will save us from hardship, won't they?"
In an instant, the tables had turned—he was now testing her.
He had keenly detected the difference between them. His hand rested on the weapon at his waist, ready to subdue her at any moment.
Zhi Wei: ...Huh? What kind of script is this?
How was she supposed to respond to that??
Seeing her confusion, Hector grew even more wary and was about to press further when the contamination analyzer beeped, displaying its results.
He glanced at the screen—and his eyes widened in shock.
Contamination level: zero.
His hand, still hovering at his waist, went slack. He stared blankly at the screen. "...Zero?"
...Her contamination level was actually zero?!
What did that mean?! It meant this person had no trace of selfish thoughts—her heart was wholly devoted to the gods!
She must be incredibly devout. Hector was instantly filled with regret. How could he have doubted her faith? He was utterly unforgivable.
His earlier suspicion wasn’t directed at Zhi Wei—it was outright blasphemy against the gods!
Zhi Wei watched as he stood there, dazed for a few seconds before suddenly turning back to her, his gaze now burning with fervor.
Zhi Wei: ...???
"Can I go in now?" She pointed toward the distant dome.
"Of course. Of course!" Hector bowed slightly and promptly led her toward the structure.
As they entered, Zhi Wei took in her surroundings.
The space was a vast circular arena, surrounded by floating crystalline blue virtual screens. People sat scattered throughout, mostly in clusters where several attendants catered to a single individual, treating them like royalty.
At the center was a blindingly bright cylindrical beam of light, just wide enough to fit one person.
Data flashed rapidly across the virtual screens. Zhi Wei tried to make sense of it but couldn’t.
Still, it was enough to leave her utterly bewildered.
Had technology advanced this far? Had the show’s producers invested this much? Where were the cameras? Why weren’t the other contestants interacting with her?
She had hoped to mingle and maybe snag some extra screen time.
But everyone around her looked deadly serious, so she quickly abandoned the idea.
The solemn atmosphere was contagious, and before she knew it, she felt tense too.
Zhi Wei took a quiet, deep breath to steady herself.
She had waited so long for this opportunity—taking time off from her grueling 9-to-9 job at the tech company to audition for this survival show.
Before this, she had juggled her corporate job with her underground idol career, surviving on energy drinks, coffee, and sheer willpower.
But now, everything was different! Now, she finally had a chance to turn her idol dreams into reality!
Her mind raced.
That’s right! She was about to make her dazzling debut, showcasing her singing, dancing, and rap skills to impress the judges and secure her initial ranking!
Then, she’d master the theme song, overcome every challenge, and fight her way to debut in this competition!
She closed her eyes, centering herself, until Hector approached again.
Bending slightly, he whispered, "It’s your turn now, Candidate Zhi Wei."
"Pretty formal..." she muttered at the title. Shouldn’t she be called something like "Dream Chaser" or "Future Idol" instead?
Zhi Wei stood, stuffing her belongings into a tote bag and handing it to Hector for safekeeping.
He guided her toward the central light beam.
Still confused, she followed his lead.
Assuming this was some kind of elevator that would lift her onto the stage, she stepped into the light—only to be blinded by a sudden flash.
But her professionalism kicked in.
Remembering that her idol persona had to be flawless from the very first second, she maintained a perfect, practiced smile, tilting her head slightly and nodding in greeting.
When she finally opened her eyes, she found herself standing center stage beside the host.
Zhi Wei: ...Did the elevator move? I didn’t feel anything.
She looked up—and froze.
Wait a minute. Is this the studio? Why does the audience look like a packed stadium?
This has to be over a hundred thousand people... How is that possible? Even the Bird’s Nest Stadium couldn’t hold this many!
And what are those hazy figures in the distance?!
Zhi Wei’s idol training had been honed in tiny underground venues, and her day job had hardened her against even the most unreasonable clients.
So, despite the storm of confusion inside her, her expression remained perfectly composed—no one could tell she was internally screaming.
The host wasn’t human either—just a smooth, glowing orb with two tentacle-like arms, floating in the air beside her.
It took every ounce of her self-control not to react.
"Hello, Zhi Wei. May I call you that?" the host asked gently.
No matter how softly spoken, nothing could disguise the fact that what reached the ears was a flat, mechanical electronic voice.
Zhi Wei's gaze went vacant, though her smile remained bright: "Of course."
The host raised his voice: "Fellow citizens, at this year's Divine Election preliminaries, we welcome a candidate from the fringe worlds—Zhi Wei!"
"And now, the floor belongs to Zhi Wei—please present your campaign manifesto!"
Zhi Wei wanted to tear off her own ears and gnaw on them in frustration!
Useless ears! What kind of nonsense are you hearing? Since when is this human language?!
...What campaign manifesto? I came here for a talent show—what exactly am I being asked to compete for?!
Just where the hell have I ended up?!
