Chapter 184: Complicated Parent-Child Relationships

Chapter 184: Complex Parent-Child Relationships

The congregation of believers continued to grow, their billions of prayers like grains of sand shifting in a desert, emitting pinpricks of light. The fragmented murmurs rose and faded incessantly in the depths of consciousness, beseeching the deity for power or revelation.

Among them were the prayers of the clergy from the "Destiny Pilgrimage"—these ability users' souls burned brighter and stronger, scattered among the endless grains of sand like pearls scattered across dimensions.

As the church spread to more worlds, a new problem emerged:

Communication between branches of the church across different worlds was neither timely nor convenient.

With clergy members unfamiliar with one another, they had no means of direct contact and couldn’t utilize the private messaging function of the Playground System. While occult methods could serve as alternatives, not every ability user possessed cross-dimensional communication tools…

This meant that even the simplest negotiations required clergy to physically travel between worlds, draining both resources and personnel—sometimes even necessitating the aid of high-level ability users.

Yi Fengchu had taken note of this: in just a few days, Bryce had processed over two hundred Prayer Rituals solely for relaying messages.

…The poor bard’s usually gentle smile had grown rare, his golden locks seemed to lose their luster, as if the sun itself were dimming.

This couldn’t go on any longer!

Yi Fengchu resolved not to become an overworked cog in the machine.

"The times they are a-changin'."

His gaze shifted to his phone. Lost in thought, he mused that even the Crown of Fate—part of his scepter—could manifest numerous functions through a smartphone… So why couldn’t prayers?

"Perhaps it’s time to modernize, technologize, and informatize the Fate Church."

Yi Fengchu began considering the construction of a vast internal communication network within the church—one that could span multiple worlds, providing a convenient and stable information exchange system.

This way, church affairs wouldn’t need to rely on the Playground System, ensuring greater security and confidentiality.

"It could resemble corporate messaging apps, but with more complex layers…"

Excitedly, Yi Fengchu envisioned: "Similar to MMO chat systems, it could be divided into DMs, branch servers, and a main hub based on functionality."

"Wait, isn’t this just a refined version of my ‘server-wide broadcast’ divine edicts?"

His phone chuckled dryly. "No surprise there—your thought processes are identical."

With a clear blueprint, execution wasn’t difficult.

The occult principles behind the church’s communication network were fundamentally simple—it was all about forging "connections."

The shared faith of church members in Yi Fengchu naturally formed countless strong bonds.

All Yi Fengchu needed to do was interweave these two-way channels linking him and the clergy, transforming them into internal connections among the clergy themselves.

Like patiently stringing scattered pearls, each individual "connection" was woven by the deity’s hand into an immense web, encompassing every critical node of the church.

Over several days, Yi Fengchu intermittently completed the church’s communication network, even taking the time to create a private channel for The Decameron.

Exercising caution, he didn’t immediately activate the network. Instead, he planned to test it first with his alt accounts, ensuring everything worked before issuing a divine decree to bestow it upon the faithful.

However, preoccupied with testing the system, Yi Fengchu failed to notice that he had inadvertently pulled several nearby ability users into the channel.

The flickering light representing the communication link pulsed slowly, like a silvery star.

……

Outside the apartment building.

Meng Siyou sat on a bench, his eyes—hidden behind shades—occasionally lifting to gaze in a certain direction, a conflicted gleam flashing in their depths.

This was his fourth day lingering within Yi Fengchu’s orbit.

Not long ago, the Anomalous Affairs Bureau had detected an intense energy signature originating from this very apartment building.

The All-Seeing Eye’s analysis suggested the energy bore the hallmarks of a Prayer Ritual from the Fate Domain—and likely one of the highest echelon of ritual magic, one that had received a response from the True God.

It wasn’t hard for the Bureau’s higher-ups to connect this to the recent uproar across worlds regarding the death of the Black Goat.

Some even speculated:

Was it possible that the Narrator, after yet another victory, had bestowed some mysterious artifact or power upon the Divine Son through a ritual?

To investigate, Jiang You—codenamed "Omen-Blind Seer" within the Bureau—conducted a reading.

The Fate Domain’s prophet locked himself in a pitch-black room for an entire day. When the door reopened, he had entered an unfathomable state of foresight, uncontrollably biting through his own wrist and smearing his blood across the walls.

The crimson strokes repeatedly traced the same phrase—

"The severed goat horns, the triumphant fanfare, all belong to Him."

But who was "Him"?

The deity lurking behind the scenes, or the deity’s favored child?

No one could provide a definitive answer… not even Jiang You himself, the prophet who had written those words.

This was the common plight of most Fate Domain ability users. Without divine grace, they could only receive vague, cryptic revelations from fate—misinterpretations of which might lead them to even worse outcomes.

After heated debate, the Bureau tentatively interpreted the prophecy as: the Narrator might have granted the Divine Son a portion of the spoils from the Black Goat’s latest demise.

And that could very well be an artifact of divine caliber!

Given its potential impact on the real world, the Bureau dispatched high-level ability users to discreetly monitor the area, ensuring they could respond promptly to any unforeseen developments.

Coincidentally, Meng Siyou had his own concerns regarding vessels for divine incarnation—and a desire to visit an old classmate. Thus, he volunteered for the observation mission.

After days of long-distance surveillance, Meng Siyou did notice something unusual—

Why did Yi Fengchu often space out, his eyes vacant and unfocused?

This seemed like a new development.

Unaware of Yi Fengchu’s tinkering with the church’s communication network, Meng Siyou attributed these odd behaviors to… the Narrator's meddling influence.

Was the Narrator already acting upon Yi Fengchu, subtly reshaping him into a vessel for his own power?

A flood of conjectures swirled through his mind, leaving him restless. He let out long sighs at intervals, drawing curious stares from passersby.

Now that he was at his classmate’s doorstep, how should he approach Yi Fengchu?

He couldn’t just bluntly say, "Be careful, your father might be using you as a pawn," could he?

If he did, he might not even need the secretly observing Narrator to smite him—Yi Fengchu would probably send him to the psych ward first…

As he agonized, Meng Siyou suddenly noticed a silver icon blinking in the upper-right corner of his field of vision.

He shook his head in confusion, realizing the icon was an ouroboros symbol, flickering yet stubbornly burned in the corner of his retina, moving along with his shifting vision.

Meng Siyou recognized it as the iconic emblem of the Destiny Pilgrimage sect...

But why did it appear in his eye?

Growing wary, Meng Siyou attempted to will the icon to respond.

A translucent silver-white panel unfolded before him, labeled "The Loving Family" at the top, with several chat messages appearing below...

"Narrator": Forwarded article: *"Did You Know? 80% of Parents Lack Their Children's Companionship"*

"Narrator": Forwarded article: *"Don’t Let Waiting Become Harm—Tearful Middle-Aged People Reveal Their Biggest Regret in Life..."*

"Narrator": Forwarded article: *"Why Do Elders Love Nagging? The Heartbreaking Story Young People Don’t Understand"*

"..."

Meng Siyou felt that if he were an NPC in a game, the question mark over his head would surely pierce the sky...

What were these things? A collection of those viral articles old folks love?

Did someone actually dare to impersonate the Narrator to run scams?

Just then, a new message suddenly appeared under Meng Siyou’s stunned gaze.

"Yi Fengchu": TD

Meng Siyou fell silent.

He could almost picture the annoyed scowl on his old classmate’s face...

Wait, if the other party really was the Narrator, was such a blatantly brush-off response really okay?!

At that moment, another default avatar appeared, speaking with reckless bravery—

"Cardinal Lena": Please, Divine Prince, be more patient with Lord Fate qwq... He truly cherishes you and hopes you can give Him some attention too!

"Yi Fengchu": .

The next moment, Meng Siyou’s vision blurred, and the chat panel—along with all those bizarre messages—disappeared completely.

He sat frozen on the bench for a long time before silently taking off his sunglasses and covering his eyes with his palm.

"Was that... just a hallucination? Hah, must be the stress lately, making me see things..."

Meng Siyou refused to believe he had "luckily" stumbled into a gods' family group chat—he had seen too many secrets!

If this continued, he genuinely feared the Narrator might have him disappeared one day!

But... had his earlier speculation about an avatar theory been overthinking?

Judging by the interaction between the Narrator and Yi Fengchu, they seemed just like any typical, harmonious parent-child pair in the world—if anything, the Narrator might even be an overindulgent dad...

Could an almighty god really have such a side?

Did He also cling to something as human as love?

Lost in spiraling thoughts, Meng Siyou was jolted back to reality when he saw a woman hurriedly passing by, a small white medicine bottle falling out of her coat and rolling right to his feet.

He picked it up and saw the company name "Wan Neng Chao Xi Pharmaceuticals Group Co., Ltd." printed on it, while the space below—where dosage instructions, effects, and side effects should have been—was completely blank.

...This bottle looked like a shoddy product from some unscrupulous workshop, just stamped with a company name before being dumped through the black market.

Subconsciously examining it closely, Meng Siyou caught a faint, rank fish-market smell wafting from the bottle—like the reek of day-old seafood spoiling in a barrel under scorching heat.

Gagging slightly, he felt a wave of nausea, just as the woman’s anxious voice reached him:

"That’s my medicine, right? What do you think you're doing?"