004
Andre was tongue-tied, utterly at a loss for words.
Frustration made him press his lips together, his cheeks flushing a faint red.
"But this is disrespectful to the gods," he insisted.
Zhi Wei leaned forward abruptly, elbows propped on the table, studying Andre’s clear, earnest gaze.
"Then..." she ventured, "why don’t you prove it to me? Convince me to show respect."
She was doing this on purpose.
Just a few sentences were enough for her to gauge Andre’s temperament—far less sharp than Hector from before.
Since he’d approached her, Zhi Wei figured she might as well pry some information out of him. At the very least, she needed to understand how this world, where gods undeniably existed, actually functioned.
Andre pondered for a moment, then lowered his eyes. He clasped his hands together, resting them against the bridge of his nose, and closed his eyes, his lashes lying still against his cheeks.
Zhi Wei watched him coolly.
Then Andre’s clear, crystalline voice rang out as he spoke—
"The god I believe in relieves my suffering and bestows blessings upon me. May the god pity me, cherish me, love me."
Hearing this, Zhi Wei thought it sounded like a standard prayer—praising the deity while voicing one’s desires. A believer seeking protection would pray like this.
But it didn’t end there.
Andre wasn’t finished.
With utmost seriousness and devotion, he murmured softly, "I pray to the god who presides over chocolate, beseeching a blueberry-filled chocolate bar."
Zhi Wei: ...?
Then, she watched as Andre reached into his pocket, pulled out a bill, smoothed it neatly, and placed it on the table.
Andre: "O god who governs chocolate, hear my plea. I ask for a blueberry-filled chocolate bar to appear in my hand. In return, I offer this monetary sacrifice—take my wealth as your due."
After speaking, he nudged the bill forward slightly, pressed his forehead against the edge of the table, and laid his palms flat on the surface, fingertips brushing the cash.
The air hung still for over ten seconds—then, the money vanished into thin air.
Zhi Wei’s gaze froze, her breath hitching for a split second as she stared unblinkingly.
Five seconds after the cash disappeared, a chocolate bar materialized in the center of Andre’s open palms.
Wrapped in dark blue packaging, it did indeed appear to be blueberry-flavored.
Andre tore open the wrapper, broke off a small piece for himself, and handed the rest to Zhi Wei.
Eyebrows raised triumphantly, he declared, "See? This is divinity."
"Disrespect the gods, and you’re in the wrong," he added.
Ah, so that’s how it is. It finally made sense to Zhi Wei—no wonder people in this interstellar age still used physical cash.
This was its purpose.
Zhi Wei held back but couldn’t resist blurting out, "This is just shopping."
"You give money, you get chocolate—what else would you call it?"
She continued, "All this talk of prayers and divine gifts is just dressing it up. Honestly, this is a transaction."
Andre bristled. "A chocolate bar only costs fifteen credits, but I offered a hundred in my prayer. This is the god’s generosity!"
So… not a transaction, but a bad deal?
Zhi Wei’s expression turned complicated. "I don’t get it..."
If I did, I’d smack you!
She pulled out a bill, flicked it between her fingers, and waved it in front of Andre. "Buy me a chocolate bar too."
Andre perked up hopefully. "So you acknowledge this god now?"
"No, I’m just craving sweets."
She wasn’t entirely familiar with the local currency and had casually pulled out a high-denomination note.
Andre examined it but didn’t take it, instead looking puzzled. "You’re from a backwater planet, yet you’re surprisingly well-off."
Good question.
When Zhi Wei first crossed over, she hadn’t possessed a single credit of this world’s money. But when she left the temple, her arms had been full of cash.
Thinking about it, Zhi Wei was just as confused.
"No idea. Right after my speech, when I stepped off the stage, people started shoving money into my hands."
Andre lifted his chin, adopting the slightly insufferable tone of a noble young master, and explained, "Those were offerings."
"Moved by your divine campaign manifesto, they wished to contribute their share, paving your path to godhood with their wealth."
Zhi Wei’s jaw nearly hit the floor.
...This is peak cringe. Gods and whatnot—you people have a seriously weird way of throwing money around!
Awkwardly, she fidgeted—picking at the table, staring at the ceiling, chewing on nothing but air before sighing deeply.
But then again, gods were real here, and divine elections were a thing. Absurd and surreal.
Zhi Wei quickly changed the subject. "Campaigning costs money?"
"Of course it does. The further you go, the more you’ll need a dedicated treasurer to manage your campaign funds."
After saying this, Andre studied Zhi Wei’s pained expression as she massaged her temples. Gently, he added, "But you’re… really not like the usual candidates."
Zhi Wei shot him a questioning look.
Andre spoke slowly. "They say—well, the star-net says—you disabled your payment channels, so no one could transfer digital offerings to you."
Zhi Wei’s heart skipped a beat.
Andre: "People are calling you noble and incorruptible, untouched by petty gains, embodying the selfless virtue of a true savior."
The pieces clicked in Zhi Wei’s mind—she finally understood!
Now she knew why the crowd had been scratching the backs of their necks earlier!
They’d been trying to send her credits, but without a neural interface, she couldn’t receive digital payments.
So, they’d resorted to cash, looking at her with those "you’re so noble, so unlike the others" expressions.
A complete misunderstanding! Dear heavens, what kind of saintly, idealistic figure were people painting her as?!
Zhi Wei took a deep breath. "No, it’s because I don’t have a neural interface."
Andre tilted his head like a parrot, repeating, "You don’t have a neural interface?"
His tone made it sound like he’d just heard someone had never eaten before—utterly baffled.
"Really, I don’t. Backwater planet, remember?" Zhi Wei said offhandedly.
Perplexed, Andre touched the nape of his neck, activating his neural interface and projecting a holographic screen in front of Zhi Wei.
"If you don’t have one, you haven’t seen this either, right?"
Zhi Wei squinted, scrutinizing the screen.
Displayed on it was footage of her earlier speech on stage, its view and comment counts soaring to ludicrous numbers.
Her gaze turned vacant, stunned.
Dumbfounded, she asked Andre for confirmation: "The divine election was livestreamed?"
Andre smirked, amused by her backwater ignorance. "Obviously."
Kindly, he adjusted the hologram, laying it flat on the table so Zhi Wei could examine it at her leisure.
Zhi Wei really had to watch it—Andre even played the audio out loud, so she not only heard her own rambling about internet jargon but also the subsequent live commentary.
The two commentators showered Zhi Wei with praise.
"This is the most surprising candidate we've seen since the preliminaries—Zhi Wei! Let’s break down her manifesto and speech for everyone."
"Clearly, she harbors deep dissatisfaction with our current society, likely due to her origins from a barren planet."
"Barren planets are remote and underdeveloped, but precisely because of that, she’s witnessed societal division, chaos, brutality, and corruption firsthand. That’s why she’s stepped forward to run for the position of the One God, to become a savior!"
"And she’s an independent candidate, with no campaign team. To deliver such a speech and show such ambition all on her own—she’s truly a miracle of a candidate!"
Zhi Wei: "…"
She took a bite of chocolate, the sugar rush steadying her mind enough to keep her from fainting outright.
She fiddled with the virtual screen for a while. At first, she wasn’t very adept, but like getting used to a new phone or computer system, a bit of trial and error helped her find her way.
Zhi Wei exited the replay of the livestream—mortifying to watch—and forced herself to listen to the commentators’ voices for information.
Meanwhile, her eyes scanned the comments below, which were just as chaotic.
[Who is this? Some savage from a barren planet! Spouting nonsense like this—utterly incomprehensible!]
[Did a barren planet dweller even pass the contamination test? How’d she get into the Temple?]
[But it’s really compelling… After 300+ elections, all the useful manifestos have been proposed before, so nowadays, they’ve become increasingly trivial and uninspiring.]
[“Automatically dispose of orange peels,” “slow down nail growth,” “double everyone’s walking speed”—her manifesto is way better than these, isn’t it? She’s a candidate who actually wants to get things done!]
[She’s never held a rally before! Where did she even come from? So young and already daring to run for God!]
At first, the comments were mocking, but the commentators’ next words completely flipped the voters’ negative impressions of her.
"Zhi Wei’s records are sparse, and she’s never participated in debates or rallies before. But we do have one figure to share with all voters."
"Her contamination value."
"Because barren planets are located on the fringes of the galaxy, near contaminated zones, we typically assume their inhabitants have high contamination levels. However, Zhi Wei passed the Temple’s contamination test—with a result of zero."
"She is the first candidate in history with a contamination value of zero. This is a miracle humanity has achieved before the divine, proof of a believer’s absolute devotion to the gods…"
Zhi Wei noticed her supporters in the comments latching onto this point, arguing fiercely that she wasn’t just spouting empty words. A contamination value of zero was enough to prove her piety.
No wonder, during the earlier test, Hector had initially looked at her strangely but later dropped all suspicion, even escorting her out with utmost respect.
No wonder so many people had swarmed her—even now, reporters were camped outside her room.
Zhi Wei didn’t understand the contamination test, but she could guess: the lower the value, the more “pure” a person was.
Still, humans were only human. Selfishness was inherent to human nature. Over the years, there had been people with low contamination values, but never one with zero.
But she was a transmigrator. Something must have gone wrong—the machine couldn’t detect her contamination, making her the sole miracle.
Now, the entire star network was flooded with news about her. Everyone saw her as the dark horse of this divine election.
They believed she carried the bearing and resolve of a savior, destined to become the One God and unify the chaotic pantheon and the complex interstellar society.
Zhi Wei’s fingers trembled. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.
She’d left home that morning to audition for a talent show. By afternoon, she’d wandered into the TV station building, taken a couple of laps, and ended up in the divine election.
Good news: she’d gone viral.
Bad news: Help… what kind of viral was this?
