The first twenty-five years of Chen Mo’s life as an overworked office drone followed the standard script: squeezing onto the subway for an eight o’clock start, staying up late to revise PowerPoint slides, and having only half a pack of instant noodles left after paying rent. Then one day, while making a delivery, he knocked over a woman in hanfu. She brandished a rusty kitchen knife and shouted, “The Godslayer Blade has chosen its master!” Then, with a clatter, the blade sliced cleanly into the jianbing he’d just bought.
From that moment on, Chen Mo’s life went completely off the rails:
The coffee machine in the office break room suddenly spewed peach blossoms, and the cleaning lady shrieked, “It’s the Matchmaker’s remnant soul!”
His bald roommate suddenly grew a new head of hair, but the tips were all gold ingots. The property manager said it was the God of Wealth’s fragment causing trouble.
Most absurd of all, the woman with the kitchen knife, Su Qinghuan, chief executive of the Godslayer Bureau, insisted that Chen Mo had “a 108% compatibility with divine nature” and wanted him to join her in “maintaining order in the human world.”
Clutching his chest where the jianbing had hit him, Chen Mo protested, “I’m a delivery guy! Not some tool for slaying gods!”
Su Qinghuan tossed him a copy of A Beginner’s Guide to the Godslayer’s Starting Village. “Cut the crap. The blade chose you, so you’re coming with me today to deal with the ‘Toilet That Turned Into a Spirit’ incident.”
Chen Mo looked at the crooked handwritten note on the guide’s cover: “108th Revised Edition (mostly spelling corrections).” Suddenly, he thought… maybe this lousy job wasn’t so bad after all?
