Chapter 8: Satellite Dish

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Miss Malt had driven all the Sacrifice Devotees out; after all, in this world, the Sacrifice Church was a secondary religion and not mainstream, so she wasn't afraid to offend them.

The dominant church in this world was the Steel Church.

In some worlds, Sacrifice Devotees are quite extreme, persecuting other churches on the strength of their own status. This practice, also known as "Heretic Cleansing," is a tradition many churches engage in during their missionary work.

But in worlds where their church's status is secondary, such behavior is completely unworkable, so they must adopt more moderate actions.

The Sacrifice Devotees, though baffled, couldn't help but laugh when Miss Malt referred to her place as "our church."

Your tavern is also called a church?

Then, our church is the Divine Nation itself.

The Sacrifice Devotees just took Miss Vampire to be ranting nonsensically. Although they were chased out, they didn't take it too much to heart and continued their advertising campaign as they left:

"On the final day of this God Week, the Sacrifice will descend into the Grey World in the form of a projection!"

"This is a precious lecture, a great opportunity to listen to the teachings of a Deity up close!"

"If you don't buy a ticket to the lecture now, come the last day of God Week, you'll have to hustle through scalpers, spending more money on a costly and futile remedy!"

"The Sacrifice has always been watching this land! He has noticed its decadence, oppression, pollution, disease, causing great harm to everyone's body and soul! His lecture this time will address these societal ills, and those who listen shall surely benefit greatly!"

They plastered promotional posters in streets and alleys, wherein the Deity captured pedestrians' attention with exaggerated poses, resembling some kind of success guru.

The posters read, "Three sentences to see through human nature, accurately judge people, collect my lectures, become my devotee...."

Devotees of the Sacrifice even went to the factory responsible for printing news, spending a lot of money to buy the "one-day propaganda" package.

As long as money was spent, all promotional activities for that Sunday would serve the Sacrifice Church. Other churches would buy similar packages, but the Sacrifice Church paid extra for a custom version.

This custom version's specific implementation plan was said to involve Grand Magicians from other worlds arriving to assist with the promotion using their special spells.

"Malt, your promotion is obviously not as powerful as theirs."

Patrons watched as the Sacrifice Devotees went about their publicizing and lecturing, while in the tavern, the new head of some obscure church, Miss Malt, clearly lacked the funds to keep up.

To tell the truth, in other worlds, it is said that most vampires are wealthy, yet Miss Malt is an exception among vampires. She has said that if not for a small dream in her heart, who would willingly leave their home to work in another world?

"Does being rich make you incredible?"

"Sorry, but having money does allow you to do as you please."

Patrons burst into laughter, but they also stated that they wouldn't attend the Sacrifice's lectures, as his creed was not mainstream in this world. However, the hype put out by the opposition was certainly substantial, with promises to improve the local world's environment, free people from decay and pressure, and relieve pollution and disease, undoubtedly attracting a significant portion of the lower-middle class.

They might go with the thought, "There's no harm in listening," but the reason they are the lower-middle class rather than the lower class is that the poorest can't even afford the ticket price. These people are not the target audience for the Sacrifice Church's lecture.

Miss Malt strongly criticized these gimmicks, mockingly using the tone of the Sacrifice Church: "...I can make any promise to you, provided I don't have those things myself. If I do have them, then pretend I never said anything!"

The patrons continued to roar with laughter. Of course, one of the main reasons was that no one wanted to waste precious time and money listening to someone boast.

And while the Tavern Church might not have much money, its efforts were not small. More importantly... if you could win one of the one hundred premium play qualifications, then Miss Malt would cover all expenses this Sunday!

Instead of paying to listen to someone talk big, it's better to come here for a free ride.

"I think, I can help you, Miss Head of the Church,"

A voice came from the entrance of the tavern, and just when Miss Malt was dealing with a headache, the trench coat man who wanted to commit suicide yesterday returned.

The patrons were very surprised, as this fellow had clearly stated his intentions to end his life. How could he still be alive? Was it just to deceive everyone's feelings?

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The man in the windbreaker saw the agitated group of drinkers who were about to show their aggression with their fists and hurriedly began to explain, indicating that it wasn't that he didn't go to kill himself, but that God had forgiven him.

As for why, he himself didn't know.

Anyway, his past life had come to a complete end yesterday, and today he had found a job; he had decided to reform and start his life anew.

"What did you do before?" Miss Malt inquired.

"I worked at a marketing company," the windbreaker-wearing brother answered truthfully.

He said he had some connections in the past, and although he was down and out now, those connections might not be useful anymore, but at least he still had a chance to meet those people. Moreover, he was very eloquent and was certain he could help her attract some sponsorship.

Miss Malt asked, "Oh? If this works out, what would you want in return?"

The man in the windbreaker replied, "I hope to join your church and listen to the revelations of God."

He had learned that the arcade game was related to a new deity and, having decided to reform himself, he naturally knew that the arrival of a new god in a world represented a new opportunity for that world.

Even if he was there to harvest "leeks" just like everyone else, the level of care every deity showed towards their "leeks," their followers, varied greatly. And judging from the previous occasion and the past few days, this new god was clearly a "neutral" deity.

He was neither lawful evil nor chaotic evil; neutral deities were precious to any world, and they would certainly be well-received by the beings of this world.

The man in the windbreaker decided to stake his second chance at life on this new god and immediately reached an agreement with Miss Malt, standing up to leave, indicating time was money, and finding clients depended on taking the initiative. Every minute was precious.

The drinkers whispered among themselves, utterly puzzled as to how the man in the windbreaker managed to scrape by. They secretly wondered if he had made some dirty backdoor deal with the God of Death.

"Is he reliable?"

"I've never heard of anyone who took a death loan and lived."

"Perhaps, he is favored by God? He will become an Angel Envoy."

Miss Malt didn't place all her hopes on the man in the windbreaker. She thought for a while, left the hall, went to her room, and began to write a letter.

The purpose of the letter was, of course, to borrow money.

Although her very wealthy yet stingy cousin always responded to her loan requests with a "next time for sure," Miss Malt believed that to achieve a goal, one must first have a relentless spirit.

However, those paying attention to the Sacrifice Church weren't just Miss Malt, the drinkers, or the man in the windbreaker.

Shang Lin, the Sacrifice Church's sworn enemy, had also noticed the flyers being distributed everywhere by the Sacrifice Church.

An offline lecture?

Deities had many ways to attract followers, and relying on those haughty and superior-status bishops certainly wouldn't do—instead of gaining followers, they might end up corrupting the church from within, embezzling money and running off.

Therefore, scheduled lectures and the proactive appearance of deities were models of attracting followers that were favored by the faithful. Moreover, a single lecture could garner a vast number of followers and adherents.

The times had long changed; the days when you were forced with an axe to worship a particular deity were long gone. Although such practices still existed in some backward worlds, the beings here were clearly not buying it.

Now, the time to compete with the Sacrificers had come again. Evidently, Miss Malt and the man in the windbreaker, who was starting work anew, might not be able to compete with an entire church, and as the deity they worshipped, how could He fish around here while His followers fought for Him to conquer lands.

Shang Lin quickly face-rolled across the keyboard and pounded out a program.

"This is the Dream Fantasy Generator."

"Then here's the instruction manual..."

Shang Lin started tinkering, and soon, something that looked like a giant pot-lid satellite antenna appeared in the Divine Nation.