Chapter 101: The Poor Deity and Her Wealthy Female Devotees

The senior sisters who had been asking questions left one by one with satisfied expressions, leaving only Dana, the president of the True Eye Society, still behind.

“Young Lady, are you alright?”

Seeing the Young Lady’s pale face, Dana asked with both concern and shame.

It was all because Bertha (the admin girl) was too immature—if the Young Lady had come to see her, she should’ve just notified her directly! Instead, that clumsy girl burst in and blurted out, “President, the Young Lady is here to see you!”

Sigh, Bertha’s a demon with a minotaur template; among the many sub-races of beastfolk, minotaurs are known for frequently producing shamans, granting strong spellcasting bonuses—quite useful, really. The only problem is the side effect of evolving from this template: they tend to become large-chested and dim-witted, acting rather clueless, often reckless, and paired with the minotaur’s naturally loud voice.

Well, not only did Dana the president know the Young Lady had arrived—the entire society knew at once, and then the scene spiraled out of control.

Ever since the Young Lady left the club recruitment booth two days ago, a group of people in this once most rational, science-oriented, and theology-disdaining elite society—True Eye—suddenly began pondering theology.

These obsessed fools kept shouting things like “The end of science is theology,” “I once worshipped knowledge, but that was because foolish lambs hadn’t witnessed the wisdom of the divine,” and other absurd claims like “The Church of the Young Lady has been established.”

Ugh, these kids are still too immature. Is this really the extent of your pursuit of knowledge? Can’t you be as calm as your president?

Dana, elected Chief Archbishop of the Church of the Young Lady by unanimous recommendation from the society, thought this to herself.

But now that the deity had descended, even as Archbishop, she couldn’t stop the devout followers from rushing to behold the divine glory—she could only hope the Young Lady wouldn’t be frightened by their fanaticism.

After all, every single member of the society was basically a bookworm—these girls spent years buried in books, truly terrible at socializing, blunt in speech and action, lacking any sense of reading the air. That’s why many in the academy say the scholars of True Eye are all eccentric.

Fortunately, the outcome was good: though the Young Lady had initially seemed startled, she hadn’t been angry—instead, she patiently answered everyone’s questions. Even Dana, who had listened in the whole time, gained profound insight, and grew even more convinced that the Young Lady’s knowledge was truly boundless.

Ah, how fortunate I am to have encountered such a being in this lifetime.

Dana sighed inwardly.

Of course, the idea that the Young Lady was a deity was just a joke—a typical demon girl’s prank. No one actually believed this little junior was a god. So when Dana saw the Young Lady clutching her head, clearly overworked, she quickly pulled out a magic potion box from her person.

“Please take this, Young Lady. You’ve overused your mental energy—you don’t need to push yourself so hard. Please pay more attention to your health.”

Even ordinary humans grow mentally drained from prolonged study of basic knowledge, let alone demon girls who study inherently powerful mystical knowledge. Understanding and digesting such obscure, complex arcane knowledge consumes enormous mental energy—even demon girls, with their naturally strong mental reserves, sometimes struggle to bear such strain.

Thus, scholars always keep mental recovery potions on hand. This time, the Young Lady had exhausted her mental energy due to the society’s clumsy members. As the society’s emotional intelligence anchor, Dana felt she must make some gesture.

Mental recovery potions are always expensive—a heavy burden for ordinary scholars. Unless they’re in the middle of urgent research and can’t afford to waste time, most prefer to endure the headache from mental depletion and recover naturally.

But Dana had no shortage of potions—her family, the Cecil Clan, was a famed potion dynasty in the demon girl world, with endless supplies. Her ability to master six of the nine major schools by such a young age came not just from her intelligence, but from her endless potion-drinking technique.

Though Dana felt these potions couldn’t possibly repay the Young Lady’s teachings, they were all she had to offer for now.

Dorothy, who had only just recovered from magical depletion moments ago, now felt her mental energy drained again—and she truly felt overwhelmed. So she didn’t refuse Dana’s kindness, though she felt deeply embarrassed.

Sigh, she’d just collected coal from the senior sisters, yet given them the barest spark of light—and now Dana was offering her a mental recovery potion to fix her overloaded power generator. What an absurdly generous spirit.

Dorothy loved free stuff—she was a veteran freeloader—but even freeloading had its ethics. She hated owing others—even her own mother’s gifts she rarely accepted, let alone anyone else’s.

“Sigh, if you eat someone’s food, you’re soft-spoken; if you take someone’s gift, you’re weak-willed. No, I must repay this favor. I’ll have to visit True Eye Society often. Once I’ve fully digested today’s inspiration, I’ll come back and give the seniors proper answers. Accepting payment for a book but giving only its table of contents is truly excessive.”

Dorothy thought this, then opened Dana’s potion box—and the impoverished homebound demon girl fell silent, staring at the box filled with 999 vials of the highest-grade purple mental recovery potion.

Her brain, already overloaded, finally crashed under the blinding purple glow.

Waaah, this was the first time in her life she’d ever seen so many high-grade potions. As a former pauper who relied solely on sleeping to naturally restore her mental energy, who wouldn’t even use her own cheaply brewed potions unless absolutely desperate—this ultimate hoarder mouse finally understood the cruel disparity of the world.

She quietly, carefully pulled out one vial, drank it, and instantly felt her throbbing headache vanish—her mind cooled and soothed, as if receiving a gentle massage.

Ugh, no wonder these are high-grade potions—my own brews are nowhere near as effective. At best, they give half the result.

She sighed inwardly, then closed the box and returned the rest to Dana.

But Dana reached out and pressed her hand over the potion box she’d pushed back.

“Young Lady, please don’t be so formal. We only hope you’ll visit True Eye often—your teachings have benefited us immensely. We have nothing to offer in return, but we humbly hope these trivial potions may ease your fatigue.”

Dorothy: “......”

Though Dana had said it this plainly, Dorothy still wanted to protest—but Dana gave her no chance.

“Young Lady, may I ask what brought you here today? Please, command me—whatever it is, I will do it.”

The Chief Archbishop gazed at her divine belief, speaking with absolute conviction.

If she didn’t do something for the Young Lady today, her conscience would never rest.

......The fanatic yearns to offer sacrifice......