My name is Su Jiu, the "Crazy Delivery Person" in Room 204 of Anning Mental Hospital. Three years ago, my parents were selected by the "Locks of Judgment" and torn apart in front of me into the "audience seats" of the god's game. I gnawed on cold steamed buns and watched the live broadcast. From then on, I learned to use a Meituan insulated box to store the divine blood, and threatened Ares, the God of War, with negative reviews for saying "the meat is too bad".
To this day, there is a line of blood in the order notes: "Overtime compensation: using the godhead as bait."
I stepped onto the cracked battery car, with half a Yamata-no-Orochi pickled in sour bamboo shoots stuffed in the back. The global live broadcast in the headphones exploded:
"This crazy deliveryman stole Hera's afternoon tea again?"
"I heard that he used snail powder to stun the Yamata no Orochi?"
"Careful! Zeus's thunder will scorch his helmet -"
They said I was crazy. Dr. Lin wrote in the medical record: "Dimensional alteration disease, claiming to eat gods as takeaways." Xiaojiu held the game controller and sneered: "He is the reincarnation of the old god 'Taotie', and the hunger signs are tableware." Even the "Xiao" who snatched my order shouted on the live broadcast: "Su Jiu! Tokyo Tower bets his life to deliver the order!"
But they don't know—what I'm chewing on is not the body of gods, but the "locks of judgment" that trap humans; what I'm delivering isn't takeout, but the "knife" that shreds gods' scripts.
When the barrage exploded with "Su Jiu wants to kill gods", I touched the crumpled medical certificate in my pocket and smiled: "Mom and dad, look - I can finally give you some 'god sashimi'."
This is not a cool article, but a madman's survival diary. There is no system, no invincibility, only a battery car, an incubator, and the hunger that bites through the godhead.
