Chapter 981: Rebellious Psychology

P.S. Wrote a chapter while suffering from severe waist and leg pain—please support with a subscription.

Main text:

Besides the Dawnlight, Tvashtar had placed many items inside the ring—mostly high-quality cultivation materials, a few of which made Bai Xingwei marvel.

“But if you don’t practice the Dawn Church’s cultivation art, most of these materials will lose much of their effectiveness.”

"So despite how abundant they appear, altogether they’re worth less than the Dawnlight Meteor alone."

Bai Xingwei’s words cooled Luo Quan’s excitement.

Indeed, no one would treat her kindly without reason or condition.

But at least the Dawnlight Meteor was already a great gain; as for Tvashtar’s talk of becoming a Holy Mother or joining the Dawn Church, she had zero interest.

Anything tied to religion inevitably came with rigid rules, and Luo Quan was among those who hated being bound the most.

Saying “better dead than unfree” was exaggerated, but she generally avoided anything with too many restrictions.

The simpler the terms, the better—no word games for her.

So even though Tvashtar’s contract terms seemed sincere and he offered a top-tier artifact as a gift, the more generous he was, the more Luo Quan suspected his intentions were grand—and the more wary she became.

In truth, Luo Quan had overreacted, ignoring how far religious devotees would go for their faith.

There’s a saying: only fools and saints believe flowers can bloom from stone.

That describes people like Tvashtar—they treat faith as everything, willing to die for vague legends.

So the Dawn Church truly had no ill intent toward Luo Quan; she had simply overreacted.

But in a foreign land, caution never hurts; right now, the Dawn Church will likely pay close attention to her—she hoped their shadows wouldn’t follow her everywhere in life.

But Bai Xingwei rejected this wish, since many capital interests on the Universal Star owned Dawn Church assets—they were among the wealthiest religious organizations on the planet.

Normally, a parliamentary state wouldn’t let a religious group control such vast wealth.

But the Dawn Church relinquished most of its soldiers, gaining unrestricted commercial freedom.

Facing the already colossal Divine Protection Federation, this was undoubtedly a brilliant move.

Simply giving up ordinary military power—now largely useless—gained them commercial privileges, a win for any organization.

Moreover, the Dawn Church only gave up recruitment of common soldiers; elite cultivators could still remain as honored guests, preserving their high-level combat strength while losing only expendable pawns.

Under these circumstances, the Dawn Church’s commercial empire flourished and now spanned the entire Universal Star.

Though not yet too powerful to control, Luo Quan had no desire to touch them—and it was unlikely she could avoid them.

“I was too naive,” Luo Quan tapped her head, banishing all her wild thoughts.

A sudden appearance by the Dawn Church had thrown her into disarray—that wasn’t right.

Though powerful, they weren’t an all-controlling giant, and she was still within the borders of the Holy Tang Celestial Dynasty—no need to fear being ambushed.

Worst case, she still had Bai Xingwei and the Wu Shen Palace backing her; once she realized this, confidence returned to her face.

“You’re smiling so broadly—is it because of the Dawn Church or the upcoming Anniversary Gala?”

Bai Xingwei saw Luo Quan’s crooked grin again and knew she was certain about something.

The last time she’d seen that smile was on the arena.

Not against her, but against another seed contestant—a noble-born warrior who’d thought victory was assured, only to find himself shattered at the first touch.

Now Luo Quan wore the same expression—no one knew why.

“Of course it’s the Anniversary Gala,” Luo Quan sipped Cloud Mist Mountain tea. “Of all my abilities, I’m most confident in artistic performance. Though I come from a small place, I believe my works aren’t inferior to those from major centers.”

“Can you spoil it a little?” Bai Xingwei rubbed her hands with a grin; she always loved uncovering secrets and hated people dragging things out.

“That might not be appropriate.”

Luo Quan looked troubled, but remembering all Bai Xingwei had done for her, she gritted her teeth and stomped her foot: “It depends—do you want the full details or just the general idea?”

“Clear details are best,” Bai Xingwei chuckled. “Don’t worry—my mouth is tighter than the Holy Tang Bank’s vault. Not a single word will leak from me!”

“Since you say that,” Luo Quan was a principled person, but for those close to her, she’d make exceptions.

She leaned slowly toward Bai Xingwei’s ear and whispered her plan.

The voice was so soft, only the two could hear.

“Are you really that certain it’ll achieve your desired effect?” Bai Xingwei asked after hearing the plan, wondering if Luo Quan was overconfident.

Even the best music creators couldn’t guarantee every composition would birth a Song Spirit—and Luo Quan was banking entirely on the next song producing one to win over the audience. Wasn’t that betting too much?

Luo Quan waved her hand lightly: “Don’t worry—I don’t know much, but this song is among my best works. If it can’t birth a Song Spirit, then nothing else I have stands a chance.”

“So I have to trust it—there’s no other option.”

“Hearing you say that, it does make sense. I wish you success in your performance,” Bai Xingwei nodded, offering her blessing.

The Dawn Church’s arrival didn’t greatly disrupt Luo Quan’s life; since Tvashtar left, she’d seen no more signs of church followers.

Soon, as one of the ten main stars of the Beauty Grand Prize, Luo Quan received an invitation to appear on a promotional program.

Early Anniversary Galas were entertainment-driven, funded purely by passion.

But thanks to thoughtful planning and high-quality performances, the Gala rapidly swept across the Universal Star and became the most famous year-end show, with viewership records broken every year.

Such a massive cake, of course, attracted capital.

Fortunately, the producers stayed true to their roots, refusing to let capital control production—only granting naming rights.

This ensured the production team wouldn’t be corrupted.

With ample funding, the Gala’s quality steadily improved, and its reputation never dipped.

This virtuous cycle had become the Gala’s fixed operational model:

Announce a sensational lineup of star performances to attract sponsors, then have the stars perform preview acts before the official event to maximize buzz.

As one of the Gala’s major highlights, the Beauty Grand Prize naturally received maximum promotional resources.

As one of the ten main stars, Luo Quan had to fulfill the show’s advertising demands upon accepting the invitation.

Their destination: the Holy Tang Celestial Dynasty Television Headquarters, personally overseen by the Gala’s director team, determined to stir up unprecedented heat.

After receiving the news, Luo Quan changed into the black-and-white hero costume from Bai Xingwei’s wardrobe and headed to the recording site with her.

Performers could bring a support group, mainly to prevent awkward silence in the audience.

Worried one person might not be enough, Luo Quan called out to her fans on Universal Live—she had no idea how many would come.

On Earth, she’d never need to worry about cold crowds; the TV station’s security might even have to manage crowd control.

But on the Universal Star, she was barely better than a newcomer.

Yet along the way, she noticed many people greeting her and calling her name—this reassured her.

Notably, these people dressed plainly, suggesting their interest stemmed from learning she came from humble origins like them, not from superficial attraction.

Those initially drawn by her looks probably weren’t the majority.

But she couldn’t statistically verify this—she’d just assume it was her looks, not political correctness; if it were the latter, she’d inevitably face gossip.

“Looks like your popularity isn’t as low as I thought—I was even planning to buy you some professional fans to boost the crowd.”

Standing beside Luo Quan, Bai Xingwei naturally heard the shouts of her name.

Though not as massive as other stars’, the crowd was still respectable.

“There’s nothing to be proud of—I’m still near the bottom in popularity.”

Luo Quan remained rational, not letting the unexpected fan turnout make her arrogant.

Then, in the next instant, a woman with an absurdly perfect figure appeared—and Luo Quan instantly understood what “difference among stars” meant.

A thunderous roar erupted, like a rocket launch—deafening screams and cheers ignited the previously calm atmosphere.

From countless mouths came a unified name: Xu Yanqing.

But Luo Quan thought she should have another word: “You Rong.”

Not for any other reason—she was simply enormous; conservatively estimated at H-cup, even her nearly 1.8-meter height made her figure feel unnaturally disproportionate.

Luo Quan had always wondered what a “eight-foot giantess” looked like in real life—Xu Yanqing gave her the perfect answer.

Who could’ve imagined that at such gatherings, she’d once been the one towering over others, now reduced to “just another”?

What made Xu Yanqing even more remarkable was that her beauty was genuinely a top-tier nine-level goddess.

Even ignoring her figure, she deserved every cheer and shout.

Combined, Luo Quan suspected she ranked among the top three in popularity among the ten beauties.

In any place, “white, young, and thin” was inferior to full, voluptuous curves.

This was genetic—“white, young, and thin” rarely matched Xu Yanqing’s fertility.

There’s an old Chinese saying: “This girl looks like she’s born to bear children”—you know exactly where they look to reach that conclusion.

Though it risks objectifying women, it’s largely true.

Given humanity’s deep emphasis on lineage and reproduction, the more fertile a woman, the more popular she becomes.

“Do you know Xu Yanqing’s popularity ranking among the ten of us?” Even though Luo Quan had seen many top-tier beauties, Xu Yanqing was truly unprecedented—so she, too, stared a little longer with the fans.

Bai Xingwei, hearing Luo Quan’s question, showed rare envy in her eyes: “She ranks second in popularity among the ten, and her fanbase is the most affluent—those over twenty-five.”

Originally, her figure wasn’t this extreme—still, compared to ordinary women, it was already imposing. Many online mocked her, and she’d even considered breast-reduction surgery.

But perhaps after being criticized, she developed a rebellious streak—Xu Yanqing stopped restraining her development and became exactly what she is now.

At first, people thought she was self-destructing—but after combining exercise with scientific fat gain, she became the undisputed “R-God” of the Universal Net, famous purely for her figure.

She’s a semi-musician skilled in multiple instruments; besides her beauty and figure, her virtuosic playing is another major fan magnet.

If nothing changes, she’ll be one of your biggest rivals in the future.”

“Not necessarily rivals,” Luo Quan rubbed her hands excitedly. “I can harmoniously interact with these beauties and grow together.”

As she said this, she’d already decided to recruit Xu Yanqing.

Back on Earth, Quan Shui Entertainment had started as a tiny company—now she planned to do the same, and Xu Yanqing was her first target.

If Bai Xingwei is interested, I’ve saved her the best unknown slot.

But for now, Bai Xingwei guessed that the idol star thing didn’t interest her at all—she’d have to ask again later.

As for Xu Yanqing, from her attitude toward internet trolls, it was clear she was a person of genuine character; anyone with such a disposition typically had a positive image.

Besides, the system had given her a hint, so she was determined to secure this R-Shen.

But it was certainly not possible yet—her own popularity and heat were still lower than Xu Yanqing’s; she had no capital to extend an invitation.

Once she demonstrated her strength at this Anniversary Assembly, she would gain her first opportunity to invite Xu Yanqing.