5 Abducting the Adjutant

Now it’s difficult—extremely difficult! The current situation is nothing short of a complete mess. She had truly been pushed up to a high position, inexplicably standing right here. Zhi Wei’s first thought was to withdraw from the election immediately, to get out of this bizarre campaign to become a deity as quickly as possible. She had never intended to become a savior or a sole god; all this nonsense confused her—she just wanted to go home!

But when she considered withdrawing, she found from the news that in the three thousand years and over three hundred rounds of divine elections in this world, no one had ever withdrawn, nor was it permitted. This posed a problem. Zhi Wei was not about to try to be the first. The proverb says the bird that sticks its head out gets shot; here, where gods truly exist, who knew what consequences awaited if she tried to quit?

Zhi Wei scoured the StarNet, reading all the praise and analysis of her platform, pondering how to withdraw. She couldn’t simply quit, but she could be eliminated. Trying to be eliminated sounded easy enough—just say nothing on stage, perform some foolish antics, or spout nonsense. She could make statements like “All gods in this world are merely manifestations of human greed,” or “I don’t believe in gods at all; I believe in science,” or even “You are all little jellyfish, but I’m different—I’m the Cat King.” That would guarantee the temple would never let her speak on stage again.

But Zhi Wei couldn’t truly act crazy or foolish just to withdraw. This divine election happened once every ten years and had been going on for over three millennia. There really were gods here, and everyone was devout. If she turned the election into a joke, wouldn’t fanatical believers want to kill her?

No, absolutely not! People could afford to get beaten up, but not killed! The best scenario would be that she tried hard but wasn’t strong enough. That way, it wouldn’t be her fault. Being eliminated like that would be clean and respectable.

After some thought, Zhi Wei settled on this plan. Besides, she reasoned, she hadn’t even debuted in any talent contest before—how could she possibly win a divine election so easily? Considering that the other candidates were all professional God-seekers, their advantages were obvious. It wouldn’t make sense for someone like her, a novice, to actually win. Losing and getting eliminated meant quitting, so why worry? She would just play along for now.

With her mind made up, Zhi Wei relaxed, and her empty stomach reminded her of her hunger. She ordered a full meal—meat, vegetables, staple food, drinks, and dessert. The pan-fried meat patties were juicy and tender; the vegetables were slightly sweet, though she couldn’t identify their varieties. The staple was several wheat-colored flatbreads, and when she bit into one, she chewed thoughtfully, staring at it in surprise. The bread was somewhat spicy, but she hadn’t seen any chili peppers. Curiously, she took a few more bites, her expression serious.

Andre sat across from her, dismissing the virtual screen of his light brain. He didn’t eat either but, noticing her curiosity, cleared his throat and began to explain.

“This bread is made from wheat grown in the Sandbar region,” he said. “Each piece tastes different.” He spoke with a rising tone, tinged with pride. “The polluted areas in Sandbar are expanding, so arable land for wheat is scarce. This wheat is a rare variety.”

Though a bit annoying, Zhi Wei didn’t think he was showing off. Andre’s explanations gave her a chance to learn some basics. She treated his words as background noise during the meal.

Picking up another flatbread, she bit into it and discovered it was sweet. Though it was bread, its texture resembled syrup. It was delicious and strange.

Seeing she was genuinely listening, Andre brightened and began pointing out the meat, vegetables, and drinks, describing each in detail. From origin and customs to market prices, mixed with gossip about monopolistic business cartels, Andre fumbled when Zhi Wei challenged him but spoke with authority on these topics.

Listening, Zhi Wei began to ponder. After a while, she looked at Andre’s face thoughtfully and suddenly spoke: “You seem wealthy, but this hotel isn’t particularly upscale. Why are you staying here? Are we just coincidentally meeting?”

Andre’s eyes shifted, glancing at her a few times. “I came to see you,” he said honestly. “I’m curious about you. After the gods fell over three thousand years ago, no one dared to reclaim divine essence or become the sole savior god.”

“You’re famous now, and I want to get to know you.”

Zhi Wei replied earnestly, “I don’t want to be famous.”

“And I never said anything about reclaiming divine essence or becoming a sole god or savior,” Andre added with a slight snort, clearly skeptical. He still felt that her platform was blasphemous, but after talking a bit, he thought she was a good person. He had no strong opinions and kept changing his mind, so he didn’t criticize her further.

He just murmured, “The gods will bear witness.”

He seemed truly devout, flowing seamlessly from prayer to persuasion to preaching, which left Zhi Wei somewhat helpless.

She sipped her drink, raising an eyebrow as she inspected the cup, then swallowed the beverage, which tasted like a diluted incense ash infusion.

“Since you believe so much in the gods, why didn’t you enter the divine election?” she asked.

Andre’s complexion paled further. Already pale as snow, with an impassive face like a biting wind, his furrowed brow now made him look even fiercer. He hunched over, muscles taut, resembling a sturdy little bear. But his tone was filled with complaint.

He sighed, pouting. “I tried, but I couldn’t get past the preliminaries. No one supported me.”

Zhi Wei studied him. His look of dissatisfaction mixed with confusion was vivid and genuine. She even offered advice: “You could join someone else’s campaign team. Helping someone else run for deity, getting a position in their team—that shouldn’t be hard, right?”

Andre grew even more displeased.

“They all want me on their team, but only offer me a worthless advisory role,” he scoffed. He was genuinely upset. “They don’t trust me at all, won’t hand over anything important. Am I just a useless nobody who has to watch dumbly?”

Zhi Wei saw his spoiled young master temper clearly.

Andre grumbled, “I’m not going. If I’m going to do it, I want a recognized, respectable position on the team. At least a financial officer or security chief! Honestly, I think I’m good enough to be second-in-command!”

Zhi Wei outwardly supported him, saying, “Right, right! Those people are too much!”

But inwardly, she was thinking. No one trusted Andre, so his abilities must be lacking. If no one dared to entrust him with anything important, how weak must he be? Yet, despite his shortcomings, he was quite likable.

To Zhi Wei, the light brain was as important as a phone, even more so for privacy. Yet Andre placed his light brain right in front of her to see. She recognized in this blond, blue-eyed young master a certain clear innocence.

From their first meeting, Zhi Wei could guess much about Andre: he came from a well-off family, had a privileged life, held some sense of superiority, and was stubbornly devoted to the gods. He lacked hardship, liked to think over simple, naive questions with his handsome but foolish mind.

Watching his clear blue eyes, she clicked her tongue quietly. Still, their conversation was pleasant.

Andre’s affluent background meant he had seen much of the world and had access to information. At least compared to Zhi Wei, a plain provincial transplant, he knew a lot more about the interstellar realm.

His loose tongue meant she could learn from him what she lacked about the stars far more easily than exploring alone or fishing for information from uncertain sources on the StarNet.

Moreover, Andre wasn’t sharp or particularly clever, was easily fooled, and loved to show off. Most importantly, he was gullible and lacked suspicion.

Now, looking into her eyes, his blue gaze was full of curiosity and eagerness, as if she only needed to reach out and beckon, and he’d willingly follow her lead.

With that in mind, Zhi Wei felt she owed him a little trick.

She ate while casually glancing at Andre, subtly studying him. She noticed his crossed arms emphasized the smooth lines of his muscles. Bored, he looked around and then rested his head on the table, praying to the gods.

Suddenly, an idea struck her.

Yes, she couldn’t withdraw from the election herself; she had to continue on the path of running for deity, but she didn’t want to go far. Ideally, she wanted to collapse midway.

To avoid suspicion, she had to form her own campaign team and do everything a normal candidate would do.

But she could assemble a mediocre team!

Imagine if she had a clumsy deputy dragging her down—that would accelerate her exit, making it swift and effortless!

A deputy was second-in-command, somewhat like a chief secretary or special assistant—someone who helped the candidate handle campaign matters, manage relationships, organize rallies, canvass districts, and interact with voters.

If the deputy, with the candidate’s tacit approval, neglects any task, the candidate could elegantly be eliminated.

Zhi Wei could already picture this perfect scenario.

This was exactly what she needed. Missing this opportunity would mean missing out; it wouldn’t be easy to find such an all-around capable person again.

With that thought, Zhi Wei made up her mind.

Andre wanted to be deputy? Perfect! She didn’t even have a campaign team yet.

Leaning forward, she showed a practiced, professional smile, her eyes sincere and earnest.

She sweetly invited Andre, “So, would you like to be my deputy?”