In a secret, militarized base in the East District of Fragrant City, White Crow, dressed in a pristine white robe, walked slowly past the disciplined formations of her congregation.
She was over thirty, with crow's feet etched at the corners of her eyes from years of exhausting travel. Her skin had lost its elasticity and radiance, yet nothing could conceal the fineness of her features. Her bright eyes, high-bridged nose, and full lips still hinted at the beauty she once possessed.
She was often seen with a smile, always gentle and approachable. Her presence was a familiar sight in impoverished streets and disaster-stricken areas, where she delivered aid on behalf of the Balance Church. Her followers adored and revered her without exception. Some, in their superstitious devotion, even considered her a goddess incarnate—a perception, of course, that the Balance Church had deliberately cultivated through its propaganda.
The congregation in their formations included men and women, young and old, all clad in light, mismatched attire. Yet, a uniform fervor and obsession burned in every one of their eyes.
When a person has lost everything, left with nothing but their own body and a heart brimming with hatred, they tend to value life little and vengeance greatly.
And when the object of that vengeance is a monolith that draws the hatred of countless souls—the Federation government, for instance—then this hatred takes on a grand, tragic significance. Each person can cast themselves as a hero, sacrificing their life for a noble cause.
Of course, it was undeniable that most people in this era had no ideals. The sheer effort of survival was exhausting enough, leaving little energy for something as demanding as thought.
They had no idea what kind of world they would build after toppling the Federation, nor how they would voice their demands once chaos was unleashed. But that didn't stop them from being stirred by slogans and doctrines, convincing themselves that this was what they truly desired.
White Crow knew the Balance Church's ultimate goal, but she had no intention of revealing that grand blueprint to everyone.
Ignorance was sometimes a blessing; knowing too much could easily lead to chaos.
Now, the vice president of the Balance Church ascended the dais, her movements quiet and deliberate. She stood with solemn dignity, preparing to deliver her sermon, just as she did every other day.
"I am here."
Suddenly, a whisper drifted by her ear, like a voice from a dream, a soft murmur.
In that instant, ethereal golden vines crept in from the horizon, inch by inch consuming her field of vision. The silhouette of a colossal tree flickered in and out of existence, its sprawling branches reaching in every direction, rooting themselves into the very boundaries of the world.
The boundary between the game and reality warped into translucent waves, sending out a single ripple before settling back into stillness as the voice faded. All that remained was a single golden leaf, drifting slowly downward. The moment before it touched the crowd, it dissolved into shimmering motes of light.
White Crow's breath hitched. She was certain, with every fiber of her being, that this was no hallucination.
It was just like twenty-two years ago, when, at the age of eight, she had first heard the god's voice in the Weird Game—a voice just as indifferent, distant, and solitary.
The god had said, "I am that I am, indifferent to all beings."
After that, the god vanished for twenty-two years. Even its sacred name was erased, becoming impossible to read or recall, until the *Rose Manor* instance, when the church finally learned its name once more...
The expansion of a faction cannot rely on religion alone. During those twenty-two years, the other vice president of the Balance Church had operated from the shadows, weaving a complex web through the spheres of politics, business, and academia, fueling the church's expansion across the globe.
But religion was undoubtedly the most convenient tool for building unity and offering hope. Make everyone worship the same idol, and they will naturally gather to pursue the same goal. Faith requires positive reinforcement, and the occasional visions bestowed by the deity were enough to inspire awe, enough to drive them to madness.
White Crow stood on the dais, her eyes cast down upon the crowd below. In a voice that carried to every ear, she declared with solemn gravity, "The god has answered us."
The congregants raised their faces, waiting in silence for the divine oracle.
White Crow lifted her head, her gaze piercing the heavens, as if connecting with some distant point in the infinite void.
A compassionate smile, like one seen on the faces of saints in religious frescoes, touched her lips. She enunciated each word with care, relaying the message: "The god said, He is with us."
...
Liu Yuhan's eyes fluttered open. She lay in bed, staring blankly at the light fixture on the ceiling.
She stared for a long moment before remembering where she was: her studio apartment in Nancheng, Ning Province.
She was back. She had survived another terrifying instance in the Weird Game and returned to the real world.
Her experiences in the instance were a chaotic, bewildering mess—so incredible they felt like a nightmare born from a fractured mind.
She lay there quietly, her thoughts drifting aimlessly for a long while. Finally, as if summoning all her courage and strength, she pushed herself up on her elbows.
As she moved, something fluttered down from her chest. She instinctively reached out and caught it.
It was a page torn from a notebook. The format was instantly recognizable—it was from the *Strange Talk Notebook*.
"Did I really bring this out of the instance?" Liu Yuhan frowned slightly.
She held the page up to her eyes. The words "Soul Contract" leaped out at her, four large characters in gilt foil that seemed to sear into her vision. They struck the ocean of her mind like a colossal boulder, churning up massive waves.
A tide of terrible memories washed over her, and the color drained from her face.
Her fingers tightened, crumpling the paper in her fist. Two seconds later, her hand fell open as if drained of all strength.
To her horror, she saw the page smooth itself out, becoming as pristine as it was before she had crushed it.
Indestructible by human hands, its influence crossing the boundary between the Weird Game and reality... Could it be... a "Gate"?
The thought of a rumor she had heard circulating among the theorist communities made her lips tremble uncontrollably.
The page, with its contractual terms, slipped from her fingers. She let herself fall back onto the bed, her eyes vacant as she stared at the ceiling once more.
She lay there on her back until the sky darkened and stars began to glitter through the window, their light dappling her bed. Only then did she take a deep breath and let it out in a long sigh.
She turned her head to look out the window and murmured to herself, "If I have to surrender my soul to some being, I would rather place my faith in that true god."
As if she had made a decision, the girl bit her lip. With a trembling hand, she pulled an invitation-like card from beneath her pillow.
On the front of the card, interwoven with gold and black, were three lines of text that read like a prophecy:
"The weird shall run rampant through the world."
"The arcane shall descend upon the land."
"Sin is eternal, and the Balance shall endure."
...
Qi Si sat on his sofa, cradling Poseidon's Scepter as he scrolled through messages on his phone. The moment he returned to reality, he had tasked Jin Yusheng with an investigation. It didn't take long to confirm that the woman in white he'd seen in the game space was named "White Crow"—a high-ranking member of the notorious Balance Church.
He then discovered that the malevolent god worshipped by this infamous church... appeared to be none other than Qi.
"So, the situation now is that Qi has given me his divine authority. Prayers meant for him are somehow being routed to my game space, and the power I can wield seems to be, in a sense, equal to his."
Qi Si stroked his chin, a nagging feeling telling him that his prior hostility toward Qi might have been a bit paranoid.
If Qi really meant him harm, there would have been no reason to grant him this much power, giving him an opportunity to retaliate...
Of course, he couldn't rule out the possibility that this was all an elaborate deception on Qi's part.
Qi Si had always been a suspicious person. He was a long-suffering, self-aware, and entirely unrepentant case of paranoia.
"Judging by the news the Balance Church has generated over the years, Qi has been unable to exercise his authority for a long time, leaving his followers running around like headless chickens. If he wants to communicate with them, he has to go through me."
"All creatures are self-serving. Qi must be weakened to an extreme degree to have been forced to transfer his authority to me. If I run into trouble later on, I might be able to leverage the power of the Balance Church..."
He knew that the supernatural could seep into reality. The Sila Guild had established a foothold in the real world, and the Federation had its own agency dedicated to investigating the Weird Game.
As for Qi Si, apart from being able to bring a few items into the real world, he had nothing.
After his clash with the Puppet Master, Qi Si was well aware that the Sila Guild was almost certainly watching him like a predator.
The only good news was that they were currently being pursued by the government agency, which meant their hands were tied for the time being.
By the same token, Qi Si believed that as long as he kept appearing in instances with his own face, and as long as there were fools in the world live-streaming their games, it was only a matter of time before he attracted the undivided attention of that same government agency.
In fact, it was highly likely that thanks to Chang Xu, he was already on their radar.
With their vast information network, it would be child's play for the authorities to uncover his identity. There was no telling when they might show up at his door. And given his fragile physical state, if they found him in the real world, he'd have no choice but to surrender.
In a situation like this, having an anti-government militant group at his disposal would be incredibly valuable.
At this thought, Qi Si's gaze fell upon Poseidon's Scepter.
In the game space, he had only managed to reply with two words, "I am here." It wasn't out of pride or restraint; the moment he'd uttered the word "here," he had been forcefully ejected back to the real world.
At that moment, countless fine red threads had woven themselves into a net, twisting and writhing like living creatures as they blotted out the sky and descended upon him.
Dense golden specks swarmed before his eyes against a dim background filled with unsettling blotches, and he thought he could hear the faint cracking of a shattering barrier.
His head throbbed, threatening to split open. His pupils dilated and contracted uselessly; all he could see were swirling, intermingling layers of faint red and dark gold.
When his vision finally cleared, he found himself slumped on his sofa, his sight still dotted with lingering flecks of light.
It was as if he'd been submerged in a pool and then yanked out; countless droplets of water seemed to whisper of infinity, eternity, and the unknowable, telling him that a two-word response was all he could manage...
"My limit?" Qi Si's gaze fell on the effects description for Poseidon's Scepter:
[Makes you appear more like a god (The more sin absorbed, the stronger the effect seems to become)]
He had a hunch that if he allowed Poseidon's Scepter to absorb more sin, enhancing its effect, he might be able to extend the limits of his divine responses.
"As for sin... wiping out a few more teams of players should do the trick, right? I just wonder if the game will siphon away that sin directly..."
Qi Si recalled what Chang Xu had mentioned about twenty percent of players being "slaughter-stream" players.
At first, he hadn't understood the term, but when he considered the motivation behind it, it no longer seemed so strange.
Unleashing a wolf into a flock of sheep to slaughter them at will—the lambs bleating and trampling one another while the hungry wolf laughs, toying with its food—was indeed the most efficient way to generate sin. It was far more effective than locking a pack of wolves in an enclosure and letting them tear each other apart.
The Weird Game needed sin. Why, he didn't know, but it was a fact.
"If I can't touch the sin generated in the game, what about sin in the real world? I wonder if orchestrating a few serial killings would work?"
His thoughts drifted into dark territory. In the end, he decided to shelve the idea for now.
Furthermore, until Poseidon's Scepter had absorbed enough sin, he would have no further contact with the Balance Church.
The supposed loyalty of the faithful was not to be trusted. Religion was merely a tool used by self-righteous intellectuals to control the ignorant masses.
Once a "god" who responded to prayers and issued decrees showed any sign of weakness, it would be met with control and consumption by the ambitious.
Qi Si didn't believe he possessed the ability to manipulate irrational emotions like fanaticism, and he had no desire whatsoever to build his plans on such unpredictable factors.
The connection between the Balance Church and Qi was an unexpected boon. Gaining it was his good fortune; losing it would be his fate.
Qi Si logged into the game forums and searched for the keyword "Hopeless Sea," clicking on the most recent thread.
#Did you guys see Chang Xu's stream from *Hopeless Sea*? The Puppet Master showed up!#
The original poster seemed to be a fan of Chang Xu, and their words were filled with concern:
[The voice that forced him to shut down the stream at the end sounded like it belonged to that puppet named Si Qi. Chang Xu's going to be alright, isn't he?]
As one of the parties involved, Qi Si recalled the sight of Chang Xu's lifeless body on the stone altar. A wave of pure delight washed over him, and he laughed until he couldn't breathe.
He was tempted to reply to the poster, "Chang Xu is dead and gone, no saving him," but his rational side ultimately restrained his wicked sense of humor.
After another long laugh, Qi Si calmed down, and his mind began to process the unfavorable implications of the thread.
Barring any surprises, his face was now inextricably linked to the identity of "the Sila Guild's puppet." If he showed up in another instance, he'd be public enemy number one.
—He had to find a way around this.