Chapter 2: I Am a Believer of [Order]

I am a believer of [Order]

A gentle breeze brushed by, the bright moon silvered the light.

On the rooftop of a super-tall building, Cheng Shi sat at the edge, his legs dangling and swaying in midair, savoring his daily loot.

What he was chewing was the most common food reward: Blood Finger Bread, shaped exactly like a human finger, even replicating the texture perfectly.

Only when the cranberry jam burst in your mouth at the entrance could you confirm it was truly food, not a severed finger.

Too bad the bread was waxy and the jam sour—Class C food was simply unpleasant.

But that didn’t stop it from providing energy, and energy meant extended survival.

Since the [Gods] descended half a year ago, reality had been transformed into an absurd [Faith Game].

Everyone must choose a deity to worship, clinging to life under the deity’s blessing in this shattered and unreal world.

The entire world had been split by the Gods into countless fragments, each person randomly assigned to one fragment for survival.

Just like Cheng Shi—he was assigned to the rooftop of an unknown building.

The rooftop was roughly two hundred square meters: spacious but utterly exposed, with no shelter from wind or sun, not even a scrap of cloth to wrap himself in.

Worse, air walls surrounded the rooftop above and below—even though the stairwell door was right beside him, he couldn’t pass through the air wall to go downstairs.

Only by completing a “trial” related to expanding space could he break through the surrounding air walls and gain a larger survival area.

This was the game’s greatest rule: in the [Faith Game], all “resources” could be obtained by participating in [Wish Trials], from “clothing, food, shelter, and transport” to “divine blessings”—as long as you dared to wish, the Gods would send a trial and match you with corresponding teammates.

The more absurd the wish, the higher the trial’s difficulty.

If you were socially anxious, you could choose a solo trial, though solo trials granted no score increase and only barely adequate rewards.

Cheng Shi sat on the rooftop, swallowing the food with difficulty, then looked up at the game information in his vision.

【Current Global Believers: 8,478,114,678】

In just half a year, the world’s 12 billion people had dwindled to two-thirds.

The [Faith Game] was not an absolutely safe game—death in the game meant death in reality.

But if you refused the Gods’ trials, you could not obtain the resources needed for survival.

“One day left...”

Looking at the prominent red text warning in his vision, Cheng Shi sighed.

The [Faith Game] would not allow players to merely scrape by—it automatically matched each player with a [Special Trial] every seven days.

This trial was extremely difficult; if players failed to complete it, even if they barely survived, they would lose the ability to participate in the next cycle’s [Wish Trials].

In other words, failure meant a full week with no income, only consuming stored rations!

“Hope the teammates I get this time are reliable. After getting screwed last time, I’ve wasted a lot of food—my warehouse stock has dropped to the warning line...”

As he thought this, a voice suddenly called from afar.

“Hey, buddy, how’s your haul today?”

Cheng Shi looked up and saw the voice came from the neighbor on the adjacent rooftop—a young man with long hair and trendy attire.

His colorful, bizarre clothing was all the latest gear earned from trials.

The Xie kid

The real world was divided by air walls, restricting player movement, but sight and sound were unaffected, and air walls didn’t block thrown objects.

So you never knew when your neighbor might pull out a submachine gun and gun you down.

The [Faith Game] did not prohibit players from killing each other, leading to unfriendly neighborly relations.

Cheng Shi’s neighbor on the opposite rooftop was surnamed Xie, claimed to be from Jiang Province, a fourth-year civil engineering student.

A bit eccentric, but not bad.

Before graduation, he’d been worried about finding a job—then the Gods descended, and he instantly became a professional “player.”

So he was one of the rare “Descent Faction,” believing the Gods had saved the world, or at least saved its employment rate.

Cheng Shi waved the can of tentacle slime drink in his hand, smiling to indicate this was his loot.

“Holy shit, snot water? Man, I’ve never admired anyone, but I admire you—how the hell do you drink this stuff?”

The Xie kid looked stunned, his face paling as he stared at Cheng Shi’s drink.

“Snot Water” was the nickname for this drink: tentacle slime, green and extremely viscous, resembling the mucus from a bad cold.

It quenched thirst well and, due to its thickness, even had a slight filling effect.

Cheng Shi smiled and said: “How do I drink it? As soon as it hits your mouth, you can’t bite through it—it just gulps itself down.”

“...”

His face turned even paler; he gagged a few times, speechless: “Come on, man, I see your face is always calm every time you show up—your ladder score must be high. Why do you keep torturing yourself with solo dungeons?”

Of course because solo trials were easier and less stressful.

This was common knowledge, so Cheng Shi just smiled and said nothing.

“Hey, by the way, we’ve been neighbors for so long—I still don’t know which God you follow. Tell me, maybe next time we’re matched, we can coordinate ahead of time.” The kid called out again.

“What about you?” Cheng Shi asked in return.

“Me? Didn’t I tell you? I worship [Order]. Doesn’t it show? Civilization ignites, order endures!”

As he spoke, the Xie kid stood at attention and tapped his left shoulder with his right fist—the signature gesture of [Order] believers.

His posture was precise and practiced, but Cheng Shi knew he was lying.

This wasn’t based on observing micro-expressions or gestures—it was Cheng Shi’s ability, or rather, the divine gift granted by his faith.

Ever since he pledged himself to “That One,” he had become abnormally sensitive to lies.

Whenever someone lied, he could sense it—though he couldn’t pinpoint which exact words were false, the context of the conversation was enough for him to deduce something.

Cheng Shi didn’t expose him; sometimes chatting with a neighbor was a decent way to pass the time, no need to make things too tense.

“Hey, buddy, hiding it’s so boring. Just say it—it won’t change anything. Are you really competing with me?” The neighbor pressed.

Cheng Shi curled his lips and countered: “What’s your [Audience Ladder] score? What’s your ID? Let me see where you rank.”

The Xie kid fell silent, his tone hesitant: “You’re really a [Order] believer?”

Cheng Shi shook his head, his smile sly: “No. I’m a believer of [Chaos].”

“!!!”

The other man was visibly stunned—his pupils shrank, his brow darkened.

Cheng Shi spoke with utter calmness, as if he could truly browse the [Order]’s [Audience Ladder] rankings.

In the [Faith Game], there were six Paths, each pair opposing the other; each Path contained two or three Gods, who also opposed one another.

Like [Order] and [Chaos]—they belonged to [Civilization] and [Chaos], respectively, pursuing fundamentally opposite essences and championing wildly divergent wills, so their believers were enemies in the game.

Yet, opposing faiths shared the same [Audience Ladder] ranking, allowing each to see the other on the leaderboard.

The Xie kid’s face shifted through several expressions—he didn’t reveal his score, nor did he press further, because he wasn’t a [Order] believer.

At this moment, moonlight fell on his face, yet failed to illuminate the gloom upon it.

He couldn’t fathom Cheng Shi’s true nature.

“You’re not lying to me?”

Cheng Shi smiled: “I never lie.”